One little thing

Something went through my brain this morning...a scene from my past...and I was determined to write about it as soon as I could. Here. It was a little moment of a memory, but it was interesting as I hadn't thought about it in years.

But, of course, I forgot what it was.

I've been searching my brain, trying to remember, but it is gone until the next mental hiccup (I usually write "hiccough" but this time I didn't) when it comes up again.

Now, there's the pity.
At the time I thought about this event, I realized that it would make good blog. That it would enrich the reader and make me happy for posterity, as I do sincerely hope this blog never goes away...not like LiveJournal which is dead to me.
And I wanted, no, needed to share.

But alas, it is gone.

I don't know whether to blame chemo brain or descending dementia. I hope it isn't dementia as I wouldn't really like to burden my loved ones with that. I remember all sorts of stuff from lots of times before the cancer...but afterwards...sometimes I actually go blank.

Words are the worst. If I am near someone who knows me well, they usually can supply those pesky missed words that were in my head one second and the next, vanished...poof! Just like that.
I hate to be speaking and have that blank come and people look at me and wonder what the hell is preventing me from saying it...but it is gone. My grey matter blackboard is wiped clean.

It is very frustrating.

Though, yesterday, Karyn and I gave a talk to some lovely mystery writers. I didn't miss a step or a word. Everything came out smoothly. What was I talking about? Paranormal stuff, stuff I've known since before college...and that is a long time ago. But it was clear. I didn't miss a word. I even made some jokes that made sense.

So why am I forgetting so much stuff?
Herb told me today that last year he made leek and potato soup. I hope he did and I hope I liked it. I don't remember it at all.

My biggest fear is that this is really serious and I am on the verge of forgetting all the great and fabulous things in my life and only remembering those things that keep me awake at night, wondering why the hell I did what I did when I did it.
Or not remembering anything at all.

Gimme an ah-hah moment, please

From The Mermaid Arms

Sometimes two crabs would be feeding at the same time and both would come up together and continue to fight in the bucket. Scrabbling and scratching against the metal.  Gurgling and smelling like salt water and seaweed and…wet crabs. The girls happily pulled in crab after crab, going through all the bait quickly.  

When the bucket was full, Lee stood, rubbed his leg and stretched out the stiffness.  “This ought to please your mama and Posey,” he declared.  “Let’s pack up and go back.”

Sally got up and twisted a few times while Lulu looked over at the bucket once more and announced, “Yes, mama will be pleased.”

“You’re terrific crabbers! Wish we could take a picture of your catch. I bet your daddy would like to see how well you did today.”

The little one shot him a look he didn’t understand, though he never really could read her expressions.  Lulu’s chin lowered to her chest.

“Our Daddy was lost at sea. He’s in heaven with Jesus now.”

Lee had no words.  His voice choked in his throat and he closed his eyes at his stupidity. 

Can a person be gruntled if they can be disgruntled?

We were on vacation last week.
We were down the Jersey shore, one of my very best favorite places to be. It is there I got the idea for the Mermaid Arms story and I worked on it several times previously while there...we were in the same rental house we've used three previous times. It's a nice enough place, but it is showing its age and very little has been done to keep it up.

Anyway, I worked on the story that is being pieced together as I have mentioned about a million times before...following the timeline I wrote two years ago and tried to adhere to when the daughters helped me put all the pieces into one big file. Well, as I was reading, I came to two pieces of an event but could not find the first piece...the set up for the situation.
I searched, using those little helpful hints in  WORD like search and find.
Couldn't find it.
SHIT
It actually kept me up, trying to figure out where this part was. I had the file on the laptop, but it was missing the first bit, also. I checked and rechecked the hard copy I always carry with me and came to realize if it wasn't there, it had to be somewhere because I remember writing it!
Where was it?

Ah hah! Elyse had put all these little bits and pieces into a sort of junk pile that I had not sent to the laptop.

The minute I got home, I came upstairs, turned on the old machine and searched the junk pile.
I found it easily enough...the fourth segment attached to something completely out of sync...something I just kept writing on without thinking of putting it where it belonged.
STUPID MOVE on my part for sure.

But I have to say this now. I think there is something pushing me to stay away from this story. After the sickness and the resulting  broken legs and all that problem with them and not being able to get around easily, and all the other BS I've survived (infectious disease, breast incident, teeth, sleep test) I still have it in the back of my head that if I finish this story, I will die.

You know the story about the Winchester mansion. The builder's father made the famous rifles that were used to kill Native Americans, slaughter them, really, and used in the Civil War and to kill off the bison. She was told to build this huge house but never to finish it. The architects had to build in stairs that went nowhere, rooms with no floors, all sorts of traps to capture the spirits of the dead who were surely haunting her. If the house was ever finished, she feared she would die because the ghosts were sure to get her.

I kinda feel that way about this story.
It is rather frightening.
I've faced death far too many times to give up the fight, so this story may never ever be done.

Too bad. It's at least 3/4 of the way done.

I'm being silly, I know.