Shower Magic

 

The Tall Book of Mother Goose

When I woke up this morning I found a portion of a rhyme rolling around in my head. I could hear the cadence – or at least I imagined it — perfectly well, but the only words I could summon were tattered and torn.

“I think my brain was weeding out old information last night,” I told my husband. I beat the cadence for him and inserted “tattered and torn” at the right spot. It wasn’t enough information for either of us. “I guess that memory is gone forever,” I said, shaking my head. At my age, I don’t like losing old memories – or any memories for that matter. If they are going to go, they should go completely and not tease me by leaving a stub.

I was still thinking about the rhyme as I got in the shower. I need a shower in the morning to loosen the synovial fluid in my joints and tame my unruly hair. Until I’ve had a shower I not only walk like Frankenstein’s monster my curls stand about like I was awakened by an electric shock. I believe I do my very best thinking in the shower too. If I’m going to get a big idea, it will be in the shower, so I wasn’t surprised when I suddenly remembered another piece of the rhyme. “All forlorn! Tattered and torn and all forlorn!” The cadence grew stronger.

Before my shower was finished, I’d remembered, “crumpled horn, tossed the dog and killed the rat.” What’s more, I knew I’d been thinking of a nursery rhyme from my childhood. I have no clue why my brain decided to review “The House That Jack Built” while I slept, but I knew I’d find it in my copy of The Tall Book of Mother Goose, published by Western Publishing in 1942.

Take that sixth decade!

Here’s the last verse:

This is the farmer sowing the corn,
That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog
That worried the cat
That killed the rat
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

The House That Jack Built

Oh,Those Senior Moments!

Generic Cards From My Emergency Stash

One of my sisters turns another year older this week. I remember the date of her birthday and even the day of the week. I remember how old she will be. What I don’t remember is what I did with the card I bought to commemorate the occasion. Since I hit 60, anything misplaced or forgotten can suddenly seem like a harbinger of impending senility.   I can’t help but wonder if the day I lost this card will one day be remarked upon as the event that signaled the beginning of the end of my brain. “What a shame,” they’ll say. “She used to have such a good memory!

My sister’s card-buying talents are legendary, mine not so much. I usually settle for something mildly amusing and not too stupid. I do wish I could find this card though. First, because I remember it as better than usual and second because I’ve had it since before her last birthday (the one in 2014). I’ve grown attached to the idea of sending it. I would have sent it to her when I first bought it, of course — if it hadn’t mysteriously disappeared. Yes, as pathetic as it sounds, I have actually misplaced this card twice.   I never did remember when or why I hid it last June, even after I eventually uncovered it beneath my dresser scarf in December. I suppose it must have seemed a good idea at the time.

I saved the prodigal card for the next six months. I kept it right under my nose on the top of my dresser. I looked at it every day for half the year. And then, just 2 weeks ago, right before I needed it, I moved it. I know I must have moved it because it isn’t there now. “Are you giving me the gaslight treatment?” I accused my husband this morning. Unfortunately, his astonished denial was more sincere than he is capable of faking.   I can only imagine that some diminished part of my brain was responsible for deciding where to hide it when my sister visited in May. The sensible cells probably wanted to put it under the dresser scarf again, but the tired saggy brain cells said “No! Hide it like the crown jewels!”

So I’ve looked everywhere.   Again.   This time I looked under the dresser scarf first, of course. I think it is probably a good sign that I do remember where I found it the last time. Today, I gave in and bought another card. It’s not too bad, so I’m going to stamp and address it tonight while I still know where it is. Should I ever see that incredible vanishing card again, however I’m going to send it to my sister — and I won’t care what month it is!