Remedy #1

This is what happens now: I’m doing one thing — say, making the bed — and I think of another — say, needing to change the Brita filter — but by the time I’ve finished Thing 1, I’ve forgotten all about Thing 2.

Well, I’ve come up with a remedy. As soon as I think of Thing 2 while in the midst of Thing 1, I begin counting out loud. By the time I’ve finished Thing 1, I’m still counting and that reminds me to do Thing 2. Of course if I’m brushing my teeth when I think of something I need to add to the grocery list, I can’t count out loud, but I can count to myself until I’ve finished rinsing and it still works.

This is something new, and so far it’s worked every time. I think I’ve actually conquered this annoying problem…as long as I can remember why I’m counting. I even tried it out with a Thing 3 — “one, one, two, two, three, three, four, four,” etc. Beyond that, all bets are off…I’m not that wacky!

I haven’t, by the way, figured out how to apply this remedy to reheating my coffee in the microwave. I put it in there for one minute, and you’d think with the microwave doing the counting, I can just wander off and tend to something else…because I can’t just stand in one spot for 60 seconds now, can I? Yet pretty much every single time, hours later, there I find it, sitting cold and dead in the microwave. What the…?

Remedy #2

This next remedy has nothing to do with senior moments…it’s about getting rid of hiccups. But since I shared one remedy, I thought I’d share another. This one, too, is incredibly simple and pretty much foolproof. I can’t remember where or when or how I came up with it…have searched for it on the Internet and can’t find any mention of it, but believe me, it works:

If someone has the hiccups, without explaining what you’re doing, ask them what they had for dinner last night. While they’re thinking and reciting, they’re likely to have already stopped hiccuping. If not, ask for more details…what did they have to drink, what about dessert, etc. And if they still have the hiccups, just move on to another meal. I would say 9 times out of 10 it works…somehow it breaks the hiccup cycle.

I actually performed this magic trick on a stranger several years ago (March 26, 1994) at a UB-40 concert. The young woman sitting next to me couldn’t stop hiccuping so, over the strains of, I don’t know, maybe “Red Red Wine,” I boldly asked her what she’d had for dinner last night and, though she undoubtedly thought I was a little odd, as she started telling me, she suddenly realized her hiccups were gone, and why, and then excitedly told everyone she was with that I’d cured her.

And guess what? You can perform the same magic on yourself! And you don’t even have to do it out loud…just think about what you had to eat, adding as many details or meals as necessary until you’ve stopped hiccuping.

Now you just have to remember to do it!

 

Country Living

Although I grew up in a house,  most of my adult life I’ve been a Manhattanite and an apartment dweller.  (See The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, and Cooking with Gas)

However over the years we did spend many wonderful summers in rented houses at the beach.   Our stays were hassle-free,  and at the end of our lease we’d empty the fridge,  pack up our stuff,  and drop off the keys.   (See The Great Hampton Babysitter Heist,  Menemsha Sunset  and Skinny Dipping)

But about a dozen years ago we decided we wanted a place of our own,  not just for summers,   but for weekend escapes and getaways year round.  So as much as we loved being at the beach,  we decided the Berkshire foothills in New England was the place for us with its natural beauty and so much in the area to enjoy in all four seasons.

Friends had a house in Lakeridge,  a lovely community in NW Connecticut,  two hours north of the city and 45 minutes south of Tanglewood.  Built on 235 acres carved out of a lush state forest,  the developers had preserved as many trees and as much of the natural habitat as possible.   In addition to its beautiful setting,  Lakeridge boasts tennis and pickleball courts,  an indoor and outdoor pool,  a pond,  canoes and kayaks,  a small ice skating rink,  a ski slope and chairlift,  gardening plots, and even a stable of horses!  The first time we visited our friends we were sold,  and we bought a house there too.  (See Wisdom in the Weeds,  and Pickled)

The house was in great shape with no obvious need for renovation,  but the kitchen sink was very shallow,  not even deep enough to wash a big spaghetti pot.  So we got a new sink,  and since I had long wanted a stove with a cooktop,  we got a new stove,  and while we were at it a new microwave too.

Then one weekend a house guest was taking a shower while I was running the dishwasher and doing the laundry.  Suddenly his shower turned icy cold.   So we got a bigger hot water heater,  and also replaced the leaky downstairs toilet,  and also the old washing machine which sometimes leaked  down through the kitchen ceiling.

And then we decided to tile the upstairs bathrooms.  (Coming up one Friday night we found a poor dead squirrel floating in the toilet –  but we couldn’t do much about that.)

We’ve loved our years in our forest retreat,  and have enjoyed making friends with the deer and the occasional bear family.  But we’ve also learned that when you own a house there are always improvements you can make,  even to a perfect cabin in the woods!

(By the way,  our neighbors just finished their attic to add another bedroom and bath,  and it looks great.  Tomorrow their contractor is coming over to give us an estimate.)

 

 

– Dana Susan Lehrman 

Skinny Dipping

For several summers in our early,  married-without-children years we rented a beach house in the Hamptons with our good friends J and K.   After a few years our friends – serious fishermen by then –  opted for the mountains instead and bought a house near a trout stream.  (See Catskill Weekend)

And so the next year we rented the beach house by ourselves,  and did so for a few more summers after our son Noah was born.  (See  The Great Hampton Babysitter Heist)

In fact we potty-trained Noah on that Hampton beach by letting him frolic in the sand and the water without a bathing suit or diaper.  The theory was without his diaper he’d be more aware of his pressing needs.  We’d then have teachable moments and could rush him inside to the beach toilets,  and as I remember the strategy worked!

Of course we were responsible parents by then,  so it was only our toddler who went skinny dipping.   But thinking back to those earlier,  carefree summers at the beach house with J and K . . . that’s another story.

– Dana Susan Lehrman