Toast Dust – you know the stuff that you scrape off burnt toast to save that slice of bread? It’s important one not be wasteful, you know. I learned that from my mom, a toast-burner extraordinaire. The toaster gets the blame, and that little adjustment knob on the bottom of the toaster? Well it was years before I knew what that was there for. No one ever touched that little do-hickey at our house. Mom used to “hide” the evidence by scraping it directly into the sink (why the sink, I’m not sure as it was in the days before anyone had any garbage disposals other than a dog); which we’d always find when we went to clean up. ‘Course the slight charcoal taste was still a dead give away.
Well, I woke up one day with what surely must be toast dust in my eyes. I have never suffered much in the way of allergies, but after a second nosebleed it had me wondering. Maybe it’s because I have neglected to drink water the preceding days. Doesn’t coffee count? All of my siblings have allergies and two even have asthma.
My older sister Shirley was very sickly due to asthma and its devastating attacks. I’ll never forget when the doctor told mom to give her wine to cut the mucus down. Mom would force feed a tablespoon or so when it would get bad. I had always wondered about the blue lips. Shirley used to tell me in genuine earnest “it’s cuz I’m dying and you have to be nice to me.”
Ah, but I digress. I have said all that to say this: I think I’ve succumbed to allergies in my old age. My day will be going along fine and all of a sudden I’ll find myself sniffling, sneezing, and scrubbing at my eyes; then as suddenly as it appeared - it’s gone!
Another coming of old age is the memory thing. My mind used to be a steel trap; nearly a photographic memory. If I had read it, I could close my eyes and read it off the page. This was really helpful in college, providing I actually read the material. Not so much anymore though. I have come to the conclusion that my “hard drive” is nearing capacity, regularly deleting files to make room for more. Unfortunately, I have noticed that I don’t always have much control over what “files” are maintained and which are sent to the “recycle bin.” I’m hoping the ridiculous trivia of the past is what goes first; things like my old BFF girlfriend’s phone number from 6th grade (yes, I still remember it), or a gift I got at the 3rd birthday party from my Aunt Gloria. However, I suspect that there must be a greater purpose to those memories, trivial or not. I just have to find it. I’ll have to dig deep and put some of my good analytical skills into play and determine the ….
What am I looking for again????