"Women and Elephants never forget." (Dorothy Parker)

.....I'm sorry about politicizing yesterday's blog post.  I really made a pact with myself not to get involved in politics, because I know I'll always have good friends who will not agree with what I have to say--and I don't want them to drop me like a hot potato.  And I'm also sorry to have used such a worn out cliche; but I can't think of anything else with which they can drop me.  And speaking of dropping, I am guilty of dropping several things during the day.  Every day.  I don't know what to do about it.  Today, while sharing lunch with Rhoda at the Bagel Tree, I first dropped the bill, and then I dropped my ID card from my wallet and she had to pick them up.  I really do expect to drop a few more things during the rest of the day; and perhaps with no one around to pick up after me; I certainly cannot bend down to do it--not with my back.  But dropping things is not my only bete noir; I also rip the skin off some part of my body at least once a week; my skin is paper thin.  If Rho is around when it happens, she just dips into her purse and pulls out whatever size band-aid is required.  Amazing, eh?  But that's what she does.  I attribute the condition of my skin to having been exposed to the sun for most of my life, and failing to use the proper sun-screen--or any sun-screen.  Live and learn.

.....As long as I'm confessing stuff, I might as well divulge a few other faults, some of which I can control, and others which I cannot.  For example, I find it very frustrating not to be able to place the mouse pointer right on the monitor where I need it without a few tries because I have tremors in my right hand; this, I suppose, is a product of ageing--I admit it.  I have aged like everyone else, but I've had more practice at it than most.  And, consequently, I've become very good at tremorrizeing a lot better than most.  Then there is the cane; I've had to use one to get around the house without falling down and breaking another hip, and I doubt whether or not I can find a hip donor.  But the real problem is not the cane, rather it's my memory.  I can never remember if I left it in the den, or the kitchen, or the living room or bedroom or bathroom.  And if you've been listening, guess who has to find it.  It's embarrassing.  Of course, I do have one or two other faults, but I do not feel like continuing this self flagellation. 

.....So, let's review for posterity's sake: I'm a liberal, a Democrat, a dropeasy, a bleeder, a trembler, and a partial case of dementia.  I have some good qualities also, but I've forgotten what they are.