I titled my blog 'Doibie' because I couldn't think of what I wanted to call it when I started it. I just went blank that night. Fingers poised at the keyboard, my mind was a sieve. It's been that way for a while now. Doibie has always been my word for whatever I couldn't seem to remember at the time. Somehow, it just fits whatever word is missing.
A typical day/night, I'll turn to my husband with a puzzled look on my face, search the room as if whatever it is I'm looking for will just pop out at me. Finally, when I've exhausted my mental search, I'll throw my question to the room and hope somehow whoever is present will know what I mean. It's usually just my poor husband. "Have you seen the um...the a, you know, that thing I use."
He stares at me, blinks a couple of times, mouth slightly ajar.
I sigh. He can be so dumb some times. "You know! I had it in my hands yesterday."
Still he says nothing.
"I carried it when we went to the....a...(I snap my fingers or maybe point toward the front yard) to the a..."(Oh God, I'm doing two of them at the same time! My head is going to burst!)
Unable to take it anymore, he blurts out, "The toenail sissors."
"Your favorite wooden spoon. The one you beat me with."
"No! It's in the drawer. And why would I need it now? I beat you yesterday.
Taking a clue from my irratation, he says "A box of tampons, Mydol, favorite period panties?"
"No!" I stamp and slap my hands down against my thighs in total frustration. "you know, the Doibie!"
"Oh!" He slaps his hand against his forehead. "Your car keys are upstairs on right side of the dresser."
"Thanks," I mutter, completely drained. Jeesh. Was that so hard?
Well, I'm at work the other day, multitasking when a patient comes up to the window and sets her purse on the ledge. We stare at each other for a moment. She's obviously trying to think of what to say while I'm trying not to forget what I was typing. "I need to schedule a test," she begins and pretty much ends at the same time. I'm thinking okay, can you narrow that down a bit.
"What test?" I ask.
I can tell by the look on her face, she was hoping I would just know. Obviously, she doesn't know who she's dealing with. "that test I need," she responds.
My co-worker to my immediate right chuckles and quickly leaves my side. Damn, I'm on my own.
"Was it for your back?"
She shakes her head.
Now she's just staring. "It's that test, the one where they do that pokey thing."
I narrow my eyes. Pokey thing must mean needle. "A lab test?"
She rolls her eyes. Irratated at both herself and me, she slaps her hand down on the desk. "It's for my....doibie!"
I'm outraged. "Doibie?" I asked. "Where did you hear that word? That's my word, I made it up."
She shakes her head. "No, I use it. I heard on a TV show."
"Which T.V. show," I ask. The bastards! I'll sue, make millions...
"I dont know," she says, "The one with the family and a... they live by that place..."