Thanks For the Memories

I used to have a really good memory. Not like Irish's or anything (regular poster to this blog; long-time friend, one of the most irritatingly phenomenal memories ever...how this bucket o' brains remembers my birthday after 20 some odd years when I can't even remember what season his is - much to my extreme chagrin - is beyond me. Irish can remember anything - and I wish he'd stop it!) It was not uncommon for me to memorize up to 40 or 50 pages of script at a time. When I played in the piano bar, I had to memorize anywhere from 300 to 500 songs at a time (the secret is in the fact that most songs have the same chord pattern and most singers only sing in a few favorite keys and I've always been pretty good with jingles and lyrics). How is it that I can't remember whether the baby or the dog is named "Gimli" and what year my dad died? I honestly have to count back from when I bought my car because that's the last "date" I can remember. I can remember the time I got spanked when I didn't deserve it and yet I couldn't tell you what I made for dinner last night.

I used to be glued to Jeopardy. I even once had an appointment to be a Jeopardy auditioner. I couldn't even hold my own during the Kid's Jeopardy anymore. Not that I don't know information. Just that I don't have any recall. Other than to say, in my best old lady voice, "I can recall a time..." - but really, I can't. I just make it up so nobody knows I can't remember a damned thing.

Like Irish's birthday. Or my first date. Or what I originally sat down to write about.

*sigh*