Is there a pill for memory loss? I need one. I need a bottle. Shoot, I need a lifetime supply.
At our book signing on Saturday, a woman comes up to the table and says, “I didn’t know you were a writer.”
She says, “I want to buy the three books you have here, and I want you to sign them.”
I’m shooting prayers heavenward for any kind of sign that will help me remember who this person is because I’m thinking I have never seen her before in my entire life.
Frantically, my mind searches for a name but, well, it’s just not coming to me. Finally I say, “I’m so sorry, but I’m having a menopausal moment. Where do I know you from?”
She says, “I go to church with you.”
Now, before you judge me too harshly, we do run close to 850 people on Sunday, okay? Still, I have to admit she also tells me that for a short time she sang in our choir. I sing in the choir. Our choir runs about 60 people. I can only hope that since I’m a soprano, she was in the alto section.
Unfortunately, my day doesn’t get any better. People come and go who are from my husband’s school corporation, and I don’t know them either. I won’t even talk about the couple I’ve known for 16 years whose names I couldn’t remember. I did recognize my husband when he picked me up, though. So that’s good.
I honestly believe it’s more than age that contributes to this memory loss thing. I’ve heard about the evils of sugar substitutes, and I’m convinced that it’s killed off far more brain cells than I care to admit. As in, I have very few left. Okay, none. So I’ve given up diet pop. Why, I haven’t had a diet pop since—well, I can’t remember.
I also think my mother has something to do with my current state of mind. When I was a kid, she pulled my hair into ponytails so tight that it stopped the blood flow to my brain. Now I could be wrong, but something tells me that ain’t healthy. Saying nothing of the sagging face it’s left me with.
Side note: If you’re considering plastic surgery, save your money. Go to my mom. She’ll fix you up so your face will never move again. I’ll give you her name and number—as soon as I find them.
All that to say please don’t be offended if I don’t know you at conference. Instead, be happy for me that I’ve remembered the conference, my flight ticket, my luggage, my name . . . .