Showing posts with label dyslexia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dyslexia. Show all posts

Monday, September 4, 2017

Prahjuhdi?


Do you ever say to yourself, “I must be losing my mind,” and then one day realize that you have said that to yourself so many times,  you might actually have lost it? 

One of my granddaughters told me a few months ago that she wanted to go to projedy dot com. So I turned on my daughter’s and son-in-law’s computer, put in the password, went to the URL line and typed in – oh, wait, suddenly I couldn’t remember how to spell projedy or progidy. Was it with a j or a g and did it end with an e-d-y or i-d-y? Spellcheck didn’t like any of those spellings. 

So I asked Siri. She didn’t like the word either. “Progeny, p-r-o-g-e-n-y.” No, projedy, I repeated. And Siri repeated, “Progeny, p-r-o-g-e-n-y.”

What the…?

Well, obviously, the site my granddaughter wanted to visit didn’t exist. She must have lost her mind as well. At 9! But she insisted that she had visited it before.

I wondered if she had dyslexia? Though I’ve never been diagnosed with it, I know I suffer from a mild form of it. Ah (lightbulb switches on), prodigy! 

Problem solved. Now if only I can solve the toilet paper problem.

“We’re out of toilet paper,” that same granddaughter said to me earlier that day.

“Do you know where we keep it?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

Assuming that she was putting it in the dispenser, I later went into the bathroom and discovered that while she knew where we kept the toilet paper, she must have thought I just wanted to know if she knew, because not one roll went into the bathroom. 

Thankfully my memory is not completely shot. Her toilet tissue situation reminded me of the time I asked my oldest daughter to wash the dishes. She washed the dishes, but left all the forks, spoons, knives, glasses, and bowls all over the counter and table. 

With some people, I’ve learned, you need to be very specific.



Monday, January 26, 2009

Penguins and Peacocks



I was so excited to see penguins living down the street from my new home that I called all my friends and told all my family members about what I had seen.

Everybody always throws buckets of negativity on my news.

PENGUINS?! PENGUINS???? They snarled.

Yes, penguins, I insisted. Just a couple of blocks from my home live lots of penguins. And get this – there's even an albino penguin.

I'm sure at this point everybody was wondering just how that might look, because what I meant, after all, was peacocks, not penguins. It's just like when I call my dishwasher the microwave. I don't mean microwave. I just say microwave.

Reminds me of the time a friend of mine and I played hangman (see drawing). How could she not guess (it was so obvious) "potato couch"...

I think the synapses that make connections in my brain are cross-wired. I used to wonder why nobody understood me. Now I know.

Over the weekend I had the chance to visit a friend I hadn't seen in a long time (sadly, this is the way it is with ALL my friends). Barbara handed me a little gift, a penguin (see red arrow above), to remind me of the difference between that and a peacock. Just so happens she was the friend who caught my hangman mistake.

I should probably label all of my appliances too, so that I can relay the information correctly. 

By the way, though I tell everybody that I do, I really don't cook in my dishwasher. 
penguin