Six LDS Writers and A Frog

Friday, June 01, 2007

If I Only Had a Brain

by Kerry Blair

My brain is broken. It's not a new phenomena exactly, but it is dang inconvenient on a day I'm supposed to blog. Because of MS I often lose the use of an arm or a foot or a leg or maybe even an eye, but today it's definitely my brain that's failed me.

I spent the last hour chatting with my son in Iraq via computer. That is to say I tried to hold up half a conversation, but it didn't quite work out. I just can't think of the names of things. For instance, when I wanted to give Matt a medical update on his dog I couldn't come up with her name or the word for her species. I ended up typing something like: you know, that black thing that has four legs and goes . . . um . . . wait, it will come to me . . . woof.

Then another son came in and asked where we kept the . . . something or other. Since I couldn't put together a clear set of directions to the top shelf over the microwave, I got up to retrieve the item myself. Halfway to the kitchen I forgot what we were looking for and wandered off to feed the fish instead. I think I've fed those fish three times today, but it I might have done it sixteen. I wish they'd quit acting all hungry and pathetic and making me worry about them. It's much easier with the . . . you know: fuzzy, flighty, goes meow. She'll follow me around until I feed her. As long as she's lying (laying? let's go with dozing) peacefully in the . . . dang . . . bright, hot, shines through windows . . . I'm pretty confident that her tummy's full. (I'm not, however, confident that I should have a "that" in that last phrase, nor three in this one.)

What is it with the brain and language skills, anyway? I often say this, but isn't neurological malfunction fascinating? I could probably decline any Latin verb you threw at me right now, but I can't seem to form a truly coherent sentence and/or come up with the name of that guy who blogs on Monday. (Don't tell me. I'll think of it eventually.) Hopefully I'll be better tommorrow. Tomorrrow? Tommorow? I'm normally a whiz at spelling; today I'll leave it to you to pick one that's close and live with it.

Speaking of spelling, did you read the list of names of the finalists in the National Bee? Here's a partial, gleaned from pictures posted on AOL: Kavya Shivashankar, Kennyi Aouad, Nithya P. Vijayakumar. My gosh. If those kids can spell their own names it's no wonder they can out-spell the rest of the nation. That said, the winner was Evan O'Dorney who said he'd rather be home doing math.

Math. Maybe I can do math today! I can't do it the rest of the time, but who knows?

This is the way my brain is functioning. Malfunctioning, that is to say. Random thoughts fly in and then flit away before I can grasp them. I suspect this is the way Rob's gray matter operates most of the time, but it's a whole new . . . insert appropriate word here because I can't think of it . . . for me.

Maybe I'll go back to bed while I still have enough synapses firing to find it. Goodness knows I shouldn't post a blog under the current circumstances. I know! I'll ask somebody to fill in for me. Yeah, that's what I'll do! Just as soon as I can come up with anybody's name . . .


9 Comments:

At 6/01/2007 1:40 PM, Blogger Tristi Pinkston said...

It's okay, Kerry - I think we've all blocked out the name of the guy who blogs on Monday.

 
At 6/01/2007 2:18 PM, Blogger Chillygator said...

And yet you still already knew the punchline of Matt's bad joke.

I learned to spell my last name in third grade, I can sympathize with the spelling bee kids. I plan to give hard names to all my children. Builds character. And annoying conversations where you have to repeat your name 10 times.

 
At 6/01/2007 2:27 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Kerry, I can sympathize--my Mom has MS, and has exactly the same problem. We like to think it's because she's crazy, but I guess you're a second witness to prove it's real.

And I'm going to get you a Christmas present. Check it out.

 
At 6/01/2007 2:46 PM, Blogger Jeff Savage said...

You can feel free to just say something like, "Tallish . . . lots of gray hair . . . talks loud . . . writes very strange stuff . . . barely graduated from high school . . . absent minded, but doesn't have anything to blame it on." We'll all know who you're talking about

 
At 6/01/2007 3:12 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Aw, Kerry, even without all of the synapses firing, you run cirlces around the rest of us. And forgetting things like names?--when I was younger I blamed it on a chronic case of foot-in-mouth disease. Now I blame it either on age or my charitable attempt at helping others feel superior. I recommend the Gone with the Wind strategy for dealing with the problem--either worry about it tomorrow or tell the world , "Frankly, my dear . . .

 
At 6/01/2007 4:07 PM, Blogger Stephanie Black said...

I can't remember my kids' names. I call them by the wrong names regularly.

Kerry, whether or not you remember the word for the animal that woofs, you're one of the most brilliant people I've ever met!

 
At 6/01/2007 8:41 PM, Blogger Jon Spell said...

Rob, I see your book and raise you...

Book #2 (heh)

Kerry, I wish I could give you a hug! =) (Enjoyed my goldfish crackers this weekend.)

 
At 6/02/2007 10:10 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

You guys, those books are the best! I'm ordering them today, though, since I still have the same problem and just can't wait for December. About 4 AM I sat up and yelled out the window: "Shut up, you...um...thing with feathers!"

(The fuzzy thing with long ears and a carrot fetish that lives just oustide the window was glad to hear I was mad at the rooster and not him.)

Now that I've thought of its name, I'm putting a "Free to a Good Home" ad in the local paper. Anybody got a big stew pot? That would be the best home for that rooster I can think of.

 
At 6/02/2007 12:54 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Here's hoppin' you're feelin' fine and hoppy soon. In case you can't remember my name, I'm the athletic green thing with big googly eyes and a fetish for flies--and Miss Mousie.

 

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