Necklace: Kunglers, Ivatan . Hairs: Wasabi Pills, Cora .
I made the off the cuff comment last week that I didn’t think I would ever get married because I couldn’t get past picturing Taylor in old age, balding, wrinkly, letting himself “go.” Sure I said it all in jest. Mostly.. I suppose… But he was a little taken aback by it all and assured me he’d never let himself go anywhere, but more importantly he explained to me that if you love someone, a lot of the time those little unimportant details no longer matter so much. Obviously as a, ummm, did I say my nickname for him is Dr. Ben Dover? Well, as that sort of doctor most of his patients are of the geriatric variety, and to further enhance his point about details not mattering he told me this story:
Mecklace: Kungler’s, Tamarindo . Hair: D!va, Miso .
An elderly husband and wife noticed that they were beginning to forget many little things around the house. They were afraid that this could be dangerous, as one of them may accidently forget to turn off the stove and thus cause a fire.
So, they decided on their visit to Dr. Ben they would ask his opinion. Taylor (aka Ben) told them that many people their age find it useful to write themselves little notes as reminders. The elderly couple thought this sounded wonderful, and left the office very pleased with the advice.
When they got home, the wife said, “Dear, will you please go to the kitchen and get me a dish of ice cream? And why don’t you write that down so you won’t forget?”
“Nonsense,” said the husband, “I can remember a dish of ice cream!”
“Well,” said the wife, “I’d also like some strawberries on it. You better write that down, because I know you’ll forget.”
“Don’t be silly,” replied the husband. “A dish of ice cream and some strawberries. I can remember that!”
“OK, dear, but I’d like you to put some whipped cream on top. Now you’d really better write it down now. You’ll forget,” said the wife.
“Come now, my memory’s not all that bad,” said the husband. “No problem — a dish of ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream.”
And with that, the husband shut the kitchen door behind him. The wife could hear him getting out pots and pans, and making some noise inconsistent with his preparing a dish of ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream. He emerged from the kitchen about 15 minutes later.
Walking over to his wife, he presented her with a plate of bacon and eggs.
The wife took one look at the plate, glanced up at her husband and said, “Hey, where’s the toast?”
The take from? I figured he may be on to something, because I probably will never remember what he used to look like anyways. Besides, I am about at that mental point myself already these days. I’ll write myself a note to let you know what I decide. If I can just remember where I put my pencil and paper.