Confessions and Miracle Retraction

So, it turns out that the egg miracle (see Capricorn) wasn’t a miracle at all. Just one more fraudulent thing on the internet. The sad fact is that even though I’m all about data and not prone to believing in miracles, I really would enjoy a miracle right about now (who wouldn't?), and if it involves eggs, why, so much the better.

 This is what happened. I looked in the refrigerator for a few days, maybe 8, and didn’t really have much good to eat, so kept doing that, “I’ll just have some cheese and crackers, and later I’ll go to the store.” But eventually, it was so stark that I photographed it. (I know. Please don’t comment. Try, if you’re able, not to judge. I am totally aware that I’m that person, the one who imagines miracles where there are none, and photographs the inside of my own refrigerator. I’m reluctant to confess that I also practice saying, “ohm” in front of my ukelele tuner because I like it best if we all do middle C at the beginning of yoga. But since I'm confessing, I won’t hold back.  Yes, I do that too.)
I know, it's blurry, but really, do you see an egg carton?  No, me neither.

But I’ve been losing stuff lately.  I’m losing family and friends and objects and I don’t like any of it.  I tried to make juice one day, which I do most days because it's a good thing to do when what you have in the refrigerator a handful of carrots, one tired chard leaf, a few pieces of kale, and an elderly shriveled apple.  But I couldn’t find most of the parts of the juicer.  Giant plastic parts.  How do you lose stuff like that? 

Or this:  How is it that I lost my pants?  And three days later I find them sitting on the bench at the yoga studio.  Awkward?  Not to mention all the tedious things I can never find, like my car keys and my hat and a clean pair of socks. 

Anyway, Cake Boss & Co. stopped by to work on scrolls, and upon arrival, she opened the refrigerator, which was mildly confusing because she’s eliminated everything good from her diet (coffee, beer, wheat.  What else is there?).  And she discovered a second egg carton with six empty spaces.

I know.  It makes me feel like I’m one of those quacks. The next thing you know, I’ll confess that the horoscopes are made up.  Oh, you knew that.  Stick around for ways to lose belly fat.  Remove unwanted hair and grow wanted.  

But it was a miracle anyway, because some scroll work happened, and science fair projects involving eggs got started.  I spent the afternoon trying to make a picture of the virgin out of egg shells, but suddenly remembered that my life is finite and tossed the whole thing in the compost.

Anyway, back to my facial recognition disorder.  I was sitting in the coffee shop the other day with C., and she moved across the room, maybe because I was talking too much or maybe it was something about her back.  Anyway, this woman arrived and looked familiar, the way everyone does, but she greeted me by name and sat down and started talking.  I had no idea who she was.

She started asking me questions, like, “What are you up to these days?” I wasn't  sure where to begin.  Like, has it been a week or a year or a decade since I’ve seen her?  I said some things, but she seemed to already know  everything, so I tried to turn the tables and learn about her, but that was awkward too because again, I didn't know where to begin. I e-mailed C. across the room:  “Look up.  Who am I talking to?”  But she was writing a book and not even a tiny bit distractible, which was hard for me to fathom, but that’s a different post.  Eventually, the unknown woman left, and I asked the barista who she was, but she had no idea either.

Now, every time I’m a tiny bit bored, I try to figure out who she is.  I was at a party last night, and every few minutes, (mostly when people talked about Star Wars movies, but lots of other times too,) I’d look at C. and say, “I’m thinking about that woman right now, in case you’re wondering.” 

In the town where I live, everyone is connected by about 1.5 degrees of separation, so I looked around the party to see who was from my town, because odds are high that they’ll know her.  So I was explaining the mystery to the few people who might help me figure this out.  (I didn't tell the part about the egg miracle, because I didn’t want to seem too sketchy -- I stuck to the mystery woman part), when the Linguist leaned over and said, “This isn’t a very good story; they’re just listening because they think you’re cute.”

“Is that good news or bad news, do you think?”

He didn’t say anything, but just took a long drink.  Anyway.

But the real take home is this:  during one of the moments when I was actually listening and not busy missing people or trying to figure out who the woman is, I heard people talking about their Internet Service Providers (I know.  And my story isn’t very good?  You see what I mean?).  Someone said, “Hey, I’ve got ten down and one point five up.”  I have no idea what that means, but it definitely seemed like a good thing by the way he said it.  It seemed like something I should be able to say with fluency.  So.  My ISP, in case you're wondering?  Ten down, 1.5 up.  

If anyone knows a woman with brown hair who drank coffee on Friday, let me know.

Comments

  1. Well...I used to have brown hair (I used to have hair) and I drink coffee everyday. If it makes you feel any better, you can say it was me lol. I've been losing things too...I just don't care.

    ReplyDelete
  2. What I've lost is my mind but I don't care anymore. Not really.
    I have that facial recognition problem too! Have all my life. I think this is one of the reasons I don't like to go anywhere. It is exactly as you describe- someone will start talking to me and obviously, I will know this person, or at least she will know me, and I will have NO idea whatsoever from where or when and it is just a horrible thing. So. I stick close to home. I was so relieved to discover the cause of my problem and that it is a fairly common and very real thing. I read about it first in a Jane Goodall book. She has it too! So does Oliver Sacks. So there. We are in good company.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hmm. I think we need a strategy, Ms. Moon, that doesn't involve becoming recluses. (I'm glad you're feeling better, btw.)

      Delete
  3. I believe in the egg miracle. Cake Boss can suck it. (In a dearly beloved kind of way. Because I love Cake Boss.)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. We all love Cake Boss. In a dearly beloved way, which is way better than a dearly departed way. :-)
      I'm glad you're a believer.

      Delete
  4. Well, as I see it the parameters are female, brown hair, drank coffee last Friday, at your coffee shop table. My score is a stunning three out of four, yet that other "one" kills the deal. 'Tweren't me, my dear. You need to figure out a way to get people's names from them without feeling bad about it. Maybe you could ask for their autograph :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Now that's a pretty good idea, Jennio. I could say I'm taking a handwriting analysis class or something.

      Delete
    2. Carry a small tape recorder with you and when someone approaches you who seems to know you ask them to speak their name into the recorder....tell them you're working on a voice recognition program. (or just use your cell phone and tell them you 'have an app for that' lol.

      Delete
  5. My very favorite book store manager has that facial recognition disorder and so, it appears, does Ms. Moon, and Oliver Sacks and now you. The company you all keep is fantastic, if that is any consolation.

    I know you don't know me, but when I read posts like this, my heart leaps up and out.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, I guess that is some consolation. I hope your heart leaping up and out is a good thing, and not something that requires surgery or CPR. :-)
      Thanks for reading!

      Delete
  6. I'm a midwife so I'm around during BIG EVENTS and then later when the mom is all slim she'll come walking toward me with a child or two and I have NO IDEA who she is. Embarrassing, very embarrassing. And the kid's name? No clue. Or gender either. It helps if they're all in pink or wearing a baseball cap. But sometimes that doesn't work.

    My hair was brown about 15 years ago so I'm sure it wasn't me.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Dowdy Church-lady Post

Carry on, my friends.

We shall not be moved