The Persistence of Memory

Please note my use of ‘an’ and not ‘the’. ‘The’ edge does not exist in my world. There are a plethora of edges …each with their own neatly organized list of criteria for going over. Sometimes it’s pretty… This time it was not. 
By nature, I am a fixer…and tonight, this is what led to my demise. And now, the backstory. I received a Starbucks gift card for Christmas from a treasured family that I do elder care with. Lately, my nine year old has become fond of the double chocolate chip frappaccino… A little too fond , so fond in fact that I searched up the copycat recipe on Pinterest. I scanned the recipe to be certain that all of the ingredients were within grasp. Sweet! Ready to roll! I was having a proud frugal mama moment.  
I gathered the ingredients, the nutri ninja base and cup,and the cover with the blade that makes all the magic happen. I even had the whipped cream and a recycled frappaccino cup. I followed the recipe very carefully making sure that all ingredients were measured to the ‘t’. I was happily tallying all the money I’d be saving by this fabulous idea as I placed the cover on the container. My heart was beating happily in anticipation.  
I placed the container in the base and pressed down to engage the motor. I could hardly contain myself! I was celebrating victory inside my head… What a party …champagne, chocolate fountain….

As I lifted the cup from the base, all of that frappaccino goodness poured from the bottom of the cup. The cover that holds the blade had loosened during all that magic. My brain immediately flashed a view of the masterpiece that is Salvador Dalis melting clocks…so aptly named the Persistence of Memory.

And so it was the persistence of the memory of all the bank I’d be rolling by making this beverage at home that fueled what became my undoing.
You see… The ninja comes with more than one blade cover. Aha! And guess what?! Each cover has a sweet little gray piece of rubber that is called the gasket. There it was! A loose gasket and a blade without one. Just as I began rejoicing the solution ….it happened. Why wasn’t this gasket fitting soon turned into ‘if it’s the last effing thing I do in my life …this gasket is going to fit!”  

I tried a knife, scissors, a chopstick… Nothing …a corkscrew…Nothing! I googled it… Watched YouTube video clips… Nothing! Two long hrs passed, peppered with colorful expletives… I had to get to bed… I stomped into my husbands office and chucked all the parts onto his desk with a gruff “Over an edge!” 

I went to bed… Still reeling and muttering to myself. The freshly washed Starbucks frappaccino cup remained empty among the disaster of the kitchen counter, the empty green straw leaning wearily against the side of the cup.

When I woke the next morning, I went to investigate the progress. Part of me prayed my husband was unsuccessful … Like that would make me feel less of a failure! At first glance it looked like that was the case… Gasket still laying next to the blade cover. Maybe I’m not as hopeless as I thought! Ha! He couldn’t do it either… Let the rejoicing commence! 
“You couldn’t do it either huh?” I was feeling better. Both of us had failed to get into the Mensa club of the nutri ninja! 

Then it came, like a wall of embarrassment … Red hot cheeks… “Um… There’s already a gasket in this cover”, he stated.

No need to share the rest of my reaction… After all, there were three blade covers… The gasket-less one in the sink. Sigh… Fast forward 25 minutes…..

…and as I handed the crisp dollars to the lovely barista I inched slightly towards the plateau… back up from ‘an’ edge that I had been sent over.



…this morning as I hung out with my student, we were called upon to take a turn at contributing to the stunning mural that speaks of the history of our city. The task, to apply paint to a portion of the mural while being sure to leave a buffer zone around the perimeter. The purpose is to preserve the crisp black sharpie lines that help define the masterpiece. Here is where it gets good… The magic, in the form of a sweet little porous package…  

The director of the project explains this part… ” if you paint over the line, just say ‘sponge ‘! And I will come and fix it.”
I’ve decided that we could all benefit from such a delightful service! … That whenever our crisp definitive lines of self get blurred or covered we merely pause and call out “sponge!!!!” And voila… The magic happens, the fuzziness is wiped away and clarity emerges. Without question we see clearly who we are … It would be like having a personal assistant to keep us in check … 

I think I should pursue this idea! There are so many times in a day when I wish someone would unblur the fuzziness… Sharpen those lines a little… Make it all a little clearer…a masterpiece defined!

Sponge ! 


…now I’ve done it! I’ve wrecked my fingerprint!

Now I’ve done it! I’ve wrecked my fingerprint! Yes…yes I did. I had noble intentions as I dismantled the electric pencil sharpener… Hell bent on fixing it. My motivation was multi-faceted… First and foremost… THE NOISE! I sit right next to the beastly thing. It’s roar deafening as each fourth grader lined up with their handful of pencils. I was edging closer to acting on that burning impulse to grab one of those sharpened pencils to jab in my eye!!! (Total Ally McBeal moment ! Watched the whole thing flash through my mind.). I decided it would be a waste of a good Dixon Ticonderoga pencil.  
Secondly, I’m a fixer. It’s what I do. I’m driven internally for real. I tackle the photocopier when there’s a jam… Love to untangle the knots in tiny link necklaces… It’s just who I am… Fixer! 

So when the line settled and the students got started on their morning work… I moved in… Like Mcguyver . I emptied the compartment of the shavings and approached the sharpener that had been assaulting my ears for way too long now. If only I had known the horror I was about to inflict upon myself… Might that have stopped me? Well … No… No it wouldn’t have! Much like a skilled bomb technician I reached inside (yes I unplugged it first… A complete idiot I’m not… Well perhaps that’s debatable…). I turned the mechanism and successfully dislodged some of the jammed pieces of pencil lead… And here’s where it all went awry… I wasn’t satisfied of course so I reached in my hand one more time to be sure I’d done a thorough job…my ears were already poised to thank me for a job well done, and then it happened… As I was manually turning the sharpening cylinder I deeply sliced the tip of my pointer finger. I had to act fast yet calmly and with little noticeable reaction as here I was surrounded by the class of fourth grade students.  

The sink across the room looked miles away but I had no choice… Blood was beginning to pour out of my finger and would surely leave a gory trail should I wait any longer. It seemed so far in that moment and each hurried step felt like slow motion. I barely made it to the sink and turned on the cold water without blood dripping and revealing the horror show that once was my finger. I stood at the sink for sometime before wrapping my pointer in a swath of paper towels. A decision had to be made… Do I consult the nurse? Absolutely NOT! I went to the teachers lounge and prepared a small ice pack … And moved on with my day.  

I must say it took about a week for my finger to heal…which means it also took that long before I knew that my fingerprint was wrecked… You see, I programmed my iPhone to unlock by fingerprint recognition. Once the bandages were gone I gave it a whirl… And there it was… The infamous eh-eh (funny game show sound clip here) the ‘nope no way you got it wrong’ shake on the screen of my phone. Repeated attempts only confirmed it… I had altered my fingerprint. The rest of this story is… I reprogrammed my phone to read my thumb. This seemed logical … I cannot fit my thumb inside the electric pencil sharpener! I also started carrying this everywhere I go…