Where Are the Spoons? by Betsy Ashton

Just about this time last year, my wonderful husband and I decided that our kitchen needed a face lift. When we built our house, we skimped on the kitchen, not because of space constraints but because we had never planned to live in the house full time. It was supposed to be a weekend getaway, until we fell in love with life on a lake. A big lake.

Back to the kitchen. Over nine years the kitchen wore out. Counter laminate warped; cabinet laminate separated. We had a couple of choices: redo the counter tops and reface the cabinets or redo the whole darned kitchen. Trumpet flare! We went with the entire kitchen.

We hired a contractor who worked with us on the design. Actually, he couldn't do much, since the footprint was fixed. What he could do was provide better cabinets and counters. We went back and forth over the design and choices. He gave us a start date six weeks out. Four weeks later, he called to tell us the cabinets were in and could he begin the next day.

Yikes! We'd lolly-gagged around, thinking about emptying the kitchen, doing absolutely nothing. One day! Holy hell! Terry dashed around clearing table tops and setting up portable tables. I filled them as fast as he made them available. Where ever did we get so much stuff? My first inclination was to sort each drawer, each cabinet, before stacking dishes, glassware, cooking items, on said cleared tables. With one day to accomplish this herculean task, sorting went out the window. Did I really have that many glasses? Really? How many did I need?

And the spices and condiments. Where did these all come from? Some were how old? Six years? No way. I use all these spices and herbs all the time. They can't be that old. Actually, some were more than a decade old. I couldn't believe how much I had in my cupboards. Yes, I cook a lot. I use tons of herbs and spices, but it seems I use the same ones all the time. I couldn't remember the last time I used Chinese Five Spices. The use-by date was in the last century. I tossed the bottle.

And how many pie plates does one cook need? I had 11. I now have three in different sizes. This year at the holidays we used two. Maybe I have one too many. Loaf pans. Six was three too many. If I couldn't remember when I last used something, it went into the Goodwill box. Or boxes. By the time I was through sorting, I had thirteen larges boxes of stuff to donate.

Now, none of this really has anything to do with the title of this little essay. Except that it does. We constantly lost something during the construction. First it was some of the wine glasses. See the top picture. Then it was the silverware. Our joking question became, "Where are the spoons?" Same place they were for a month or so. On a bar stool in one of the guest bedrooms.

And now, a year after construction is complete, duplicates have found their way to Goodwill and we have the kitchen completely put back together, we will look around, turn in a circle and ask, "Where are the spoons?" And we still have no good answer beyond "right where we left them/"

Do you have a similar story? If so, please share it.

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Betsy Ashton is the author of Mad Max, Unintended Consequences, and Uncharted Territory, A Mad Max Mystery, now available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Mommy Brain or Senior Moment by Diane Burton

I am so glad that scientists, and the general public, are finally recognizing there’s a reason mothers forget things. And not just new mothers. It’s called “mommy brain.” With all that mothers have going on in their lives it’s no wonder they forget. They have to balance children’s activities, work (paid or volunteer) outside the home, and marriage. Plus housekeeping. Moms are bound to forget things. When my children were younger, I had a huge office-type calendar on which we wrote our activities using a multi-colored pen. Four people, four colors. I let everyone know if it wasn’t on the calendar they were in deep doo-doo. I couldn’t be expected to pick someone up from baseball practice if I didn’t know about it. Telling me didn’t count.

Fast forward several years. With only two of us, you’d think I could remember things. Nope. It has to go on the calendar—regular size now. I even have a calendar on my computer for blog guests and my own blogging assignments. So why did I forget that today was my turn to blog here? Because I didn’t look at the calendar.

Whenever I schedule my posts (usually the night before), I’m amazed that some of the other authors have their posts scheduled so far in advance. I admire people who are well prepared. That is not me. I’m the last-minute type. I fritter away my time, or get so involved in my current WIP, then rush around to meet my deadlines.

When those of us of a certain age (don’t you love that expression that encompasses so many years?) forget things, we use the term “senior moment.” I think senior moment is mommy brain grown up. Frankly, I like the term mommy brain better. Either way, that’s why this post is late.

At least, I didn’t forget altogether. Right?

When Diane Burton isn’t blogging here on the 8th and 30th of each month or on her own site http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/ on Mondays, she’s writing romantic adventure stories that take place on Earth and beyond.This week, she left her brain in outer space.