I was going to call it 'train of thought derailed' but it wasn't really a train, just a series of things going through my head as I walked Ripley this morning, which came to a screeching halt when I got stuck on not being able to remember the name "Elizabeth Taylor." The process of getting there was so odd, though, that I am compelled to write it down.
It began when I saw someone walking one of those Portuguese water dogs, or a dog that looked a lot like one of those dogs. That made me think of Bo, the Presidential dog. Bo Obama. That naturally led me to start singing "The Name Game" in my head, because obviously it's easier to say "Bobama" than Bo Obama. The Name Game lasted for quite awhile as I ran through everybody's name I could think of, including a few repeat rounds of Ripley Ripley Bo Bipley, Banana Fana Fo Fipley, Me My Mo Mipley, Ripley! Then I began speculating about whether my littler nephews (or even the not-so-little nephews) would find the name game quite entertaining and I imagined demonstrating it for them next time I see them. Then I imagined, for heightened nephew (and self) entertainment value, that it would be good to add a special dance that is danced for any particular person's name. I thought about some potentially very silly dances. Then I imagined telling them it would be "their own interpretive dance."
Then, naturally, the line "If I can't dance my own interpretive dance, I won't dance at all" came to mind, from the film "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" I thought about what a depressing movie that was, with the couple going down into the depths of mental cruelty to each other, and how I probably wouldn't want to ever watch it again. Then it happened: I couldn't remember the name of the lead actress. Despite running through several of her best known films, i.e. International Velvet, Cleopatra, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and so on. The name 'Elizabeth' was coming but the only last name that came up with it was Montgomery, and of course I knew that was definitely wrong -- "Bewitched" was my favorite of all the syndicated re-run shows though I was never able to grasp what Samantha saw in Darren - either of the Darrens. Anyway.
The other name that kept coming up was Joan Collins and I knew that was wrong too. Elizabeth. Elizabeth. Overdressed lady in a wheelchair, friend of Michael Jackson...a thing like this can drive you insane. It went on for at least five minutes. Then, suddenly, I got it. Taylor! HUGE sigh of relief. Stream free to flow again.
I'd better start doing more crossword puzzles, or something. It could be a long next 50 years. I can see myself parked in a hallway, singing the theme song to "Bewitched." Or perhaps playing the name game with everybody who walks by and dancing my own interpretive dance. Worse things could happen.