What Was I Saying?!

Hey everyone! Welcome back to the ATS porch! I greet you from Houston where I’m getting tons of baby sugar from our newest addition to the family. My daughter and her husband welcomed Connor Phillip Maher into the family this past Monday, the 5th at 11:46 pm. He is absolutely and completely adorable. You can see for yourself at my blog:http://www.shellierushingtomlinson.wordpress.com or on my Facebook wall! Connor is home now and I’m helping his mommy with him and his older brother, Grant Thomas, so I do believe I’ll get right to it! Have a seat, and let’s chat…~smile~

I’m growing quite fond of our well-meaning scientists, y’all. They’re back with yet another excuse for why we’re so forgetful. Excuse, explanation, call it what you will, they now know why we will stride often into a room with great purpose– only to discover that we’ve lost the handle on our mission somewhere along the way. Get this: studies suggest that simply walking through a doorway can erase your memory! I know, scary isn’t it?

Apparently, they’ve discovered that the brain identifies each room with a new event and resets itself to capture a fresh memory. This is supposed to partially explain why retracing our steps to the previous room can often jog loose the missing memory. It does not explain why some people have been known to go back to the previous room only to wonder if they’re on a brand new mission or still working on the last one. That’s what they call a vicious cycle. Not that I’ve ever done that.

Oh, right. Who am I kidding? I forgot what we were talking about halfway through that last sentence. I’d be worried if it wasn’t so funny, but it is, and it also provides me with good material on occasion. The other night I was giving a presentation to the Trenton Society Book Club in West Monroe, LA, also known as the Book Club that Doesn’t Read Books, when I lost my train of thought in mid-sentence. The girls were gracious enough to allow me to ramble through several unrelated stories until I found my way back to the original one. Afterwards, one of the club members met me at the book table with a great story of her own.

Seems her late mother-in-law had a tendency to forget where she was going with a story, too. Rather than being flustered by it, the charming belle would pull out her standard closure, one I may just have to adopt. When her train of thought abruptly derailed, Mrs. Corey Ann would pause briefly. If she got nothing, she’d simply say, “Forget that. I have.”

Hugs,
Shellie