The Voices in my Head

http://www.lidiasitaly.com/

Voices have taken up residence in my head.  I don’t know when this happened, but they talk to me constantly.  It doesn’t bother me because I think it’s just a part of aging (or at least I hope it is). 

The only voice that concerns me is the one who talks to me while I’m cooking because she has an Italian accent.  I’m of Irish decent.  I have no idea who she is, but she sounds like Chef Lidia Bastianich.

“And now you putta the pasta ina da pot.”

ETHYL

One of my voices thinks she’s still 24 years old.  She’s mean and picks on me.  I call her Ethyl because it pisses her off.  Although I guess I really can’t blame her, the poor thing is scared and confused.  She has no idea what the hell happened.

I was having a conversation about driving, and was stunned when these words came flying out of my mouth:

“I don’t like to drive at night anymore”

Ethyl was appalled.  She yelled at me.

 “What the hell are you talking about?  I can drive from Brooklyn to the Hamptons at 1:00 on a Friday night on nothing more than Yago Sangria and a doobie.”



Aunt Annie and Yago, cira 1975

 One day after lunch a co-worker pointed out that I had a piece of food on my face.  As I looked in a mirror, removing the offending dried-on cheese, I remembered being young and seeing old people with food on their face and wondering at what age stuff like that started to happen.  And now I know -- it's 53!!

Ethyl was furious

You had dried food on your FACE!  How could you not feel that?

Hey shit happens, Ethyl.  Get over it.  When I start sneezing and pissing my pants on a daily basis you can complain.

OLD LADY

Another voice in my head is the old lady.  She tries to be helpful but she bothers the crap out of me.  At least I understand Ethyl.  Hey, I know youth, I’ve been there.  But old?  I didn’t even give her a name, I just call her Old Lady. 

My short term memory isn’t what it used to be.  If I don’t write something down right away I might forget.  Like the day I was in the bathroom and realized that I needed to buy soap.  By the time I walked the seven feet from the bathroom to the kitchen, it was completely gone.  So I did what most AARPers do – I went back into the bathroom and stood still, hoping that the thought would come back to me.

SOAP!  This is when the Old Lady takes over.  With every step I take, she whispers:

Soap soap soap soap soap soap soap soap

And soap gets written down on the grocery list.  Now if I can only remember the list when I go to the store!

My friend Joan posted a video on facebook about old people ADD.  It's funny to the AARP generation because we can relate.

A few weeks ago I got home to find a new upstairs neighbor moving in.  She introduced herself and we chatted briefly.  During those few minutes I forgot her name. 

I swallowed the embarrassment I felt for immediately forgetting her name and decided that it’s better to ask her to repeat it right then and there than to see her a month from now and have to say “hey neighbor!” because I don’t know her name. 

 “Darlene” she says.  As we continue to talk, the Old Lady whispers into my brain. 

“Darlene Darlene Darlene.  Like Darlene Violette, my comedian friend.  Darlene, Darlene, Darlene.” 

I welcomed her to the neighborhood, gave her a “just knock on my door if you need anything,” and I went inside.

Puttzing around I’m thinking that it’s nice to have another single middle aged woman in the building, and what a lovely person she seems to be.  Darlene. 

“Darlene, Darlene, Darlene – wait a minute -- is it Darlene or DOREEN?”

For the next five minutes the Old Lady debates the whole Darlene/Doreen situation. 

Yeah, well, the Old Lady still hasn't figured it out.  The good news is I haven't seen my neighbor since that day so her name hasn't been an issue. 

The bad news is that Ethyl tells me she thinks her name is Dora.  Lidia tells me "I'ma telling you, I thinka her name isa Donatella."