So, as I mentioned, we are back at our old church. And despite the long drive there and back, I am enjoying it. Getting communion every week is such a blessing. And we see lots of old friends every week.
Which causes me a wee problem.
I joined this church when we got married and we left soon after Maggie's baptism. Which means that I was incubating one kid or another for the majority of my season there.
And pregnancy makes you stupid. Trust me on this one. Dumber than you have ever been. For instance: once I went grocery shopping, came home, opened up the minivan to unload it and found it surprisingly empty. Drove back to Kroger and there were my groceries, still in the cart in the parking lot.
Recently a study came out that finally confirmed this. Someone, surely a mother tired of her husband's wisecracks, received some grant money and poured herself into research to prove that we are not making this stuff up. And I betcha a dollar she had trouble with her pregnant subjects remembering to show up for their appointments.
Maggie's pregnancy was the worst. During that time a couple we knew invited us to their home for dinner, we'll call them Jon and Sabra, since, well, those are their names. Just the four of us, no children, no distractions, looking each other full on in the eyes and talking for several hours over baked chicken.
Two weeks later, we were at church and it was time for communion. There was a man holding out a tray of wine, and he looked so familiar. I stared at him while I stood in line to go forward, trying so hard to place him. Nada.
When I sat back down, I whispered to my husband, "Who is that guy I got communion from? Don't I know him?" Walker snapped his neck towards me and he had a look on his face that I have never seen before or since. It was abject horror. "That's it! You are going to a neurologist! I'm calling and making you an appointment tomorrow! Something is seriously wrong with you!"
"Wow, ok. Who is it?"
"That's Jon! Jon! You were just at his house for dinner! That's Jon!"
"Oh," I giggled. "I knew he looked familiar."
I didn't call a neurologist. By March 2006, Maggie was three months old, my hair started to fall out and my brain grew back. Till I was pregnant again, anyway.
Therefore, if we met briefly between the years of 2002-2007, and if you approach me now and hug me and say, "Hi Missy!! So good to see you!" Well. I will hug you, and put on my best fake look of recognition and ask how you have been! Oh my gosh! You look great! Love your shoes! How was Christmas?
And somewhere in the very back of my hippocampus a sad little neuron will call out HELLLOOOOOOOO and be answered with only an echo. I will not have the foggiest idea who you are.
So do me a favor, pretty please?
Wear your nametag.