ADD

What happened? Where did my gung-ho-ness go? Why is blogging the last thing on earth I want to do in my spare time?

The short answer: baseball. I watch every Sox game, every night. 6 nights x 3 hours per = 18 hours/week x 4 weeks/month x 6 months/year = not enough time to blog, do laundry, or eat properly.

The long answer: I think I've got an undiagnosed, yet quite severe, case of ADD. Most of you out there reading this who know me well are nodding vigorously in agreement right now.

It's bad. But here's how to cope:

-- Don't take me to a bar or restaurant with a TV in it or risk a one-sided conversation for the rest of the night.

-- Don't write me a long, impassioned email without expecting a two week delay in my four-sentence response. Trust me when I say it's taking all I've got to concentrate on those four sentences. I love you so much. But that's all I've got.

-- Don't ask me to remind you to do something later. You might want to remind me when it's time to remember to remind you.

-- Involve food. My attention is yours if you involve food.

-- No flashing lights or colors. I live and work in New York City, but take me to Times Square and watch me transform into a five year old on sugar.

That said, I'd like to apologize first to Jenny, who has been probably the most patient as anyone over the years. Her mind is razor sharp and lightning fast, so she has the most to lose when she engages me in conversation. I recently reread one of her letters to me, and it was frustrated, sad, flummoxed, loving, and wistful. I can't imagine what it's like to manufacture that kind of patience. Sorry hon.

Secondly and equally, Sara and J. Sara because she's had to deal with it for a very, very long time; J because she's going to have to deal with it for a very, very long time to come.

Amanda, of course, has probably wanted to kill me more than anyone else on the planet. Keep truckin, baby. Love ya.

Happy Memorial Day. Go outside!