Hello

Hello, dear readers -- if any of you are still out there -- I've missed you all!  I guess I just needed a break from blogging because the last week or so I've really missed it.  I make no promises that I'll do better with the frequency with which I blog but for today it's good to be back.

Actually, this is sort of an open letter to my good friend, Cindi Ballard, who wrote a couple of weeks back inquiring if anything was wrong since I haven't blogged in so long.  It kind of reminded me that this blog has been a wonderful way to keep in touch with my peeps and why I kept writing it after my 30 day stint on Cape Cod was over, back in the day. 

I am really terrible at communicating -- no shock to anyone -- although my intentions are good.  I have meant to write Cindi back every day since she wrote, but then I was in Aspen and then I was home and had deadlines and then I had to feed the cat and then I forgot to pick up light bulbs at Ralph's and then I took a class in furniture refinishing....all of which to say -- my ADD condition is not getting better, it's getting worse.  It's not just Cindi -- I've been meaning to write my cousin Beverly since she commented on my blog months and months back.  Some of you, who do not truly understand someone with an ADD disorder, would say that I simply don't care enough to follow through with my correspondence (or whatever the task at hand might be) but the true fact of the matter is that I do care, it's just that focusing on one particular thing at the right time is, without medication, sometimes impossible.  So, to Cindi...to Beverly and Danny...to all the many others I've slighted:  I apologize and will try to do better.

Most of you know, especially if you're long-time readers of this blog, that I've really suffered with depression (which I think in some ways triggers and reacts from the ADD.)  Moreso since Mom and Dad died but, truthfully (although I didn't know it) all of my adult life.  I don't know what causes it, but it can truly be quite debilitating.  If you have never suffered from it, you can't understand it.  I remember a few years back talking to a friend on the phone who got quite frustrated with me and said "Just get off your a** and get to the gym!"  But...I couldn't.  That's the night when I started looking online and found a therapist who, thankfully, was just what I needed.

The reason I bring that up, is that it occurred to me yesterday that the past few months have truly been pretty amazing.  I think there are many factors contributing to this, but I think I am learning to, emotionally, face my giants, which is not easy but is good.  Moving to Santa Barbara, and all that means, has been a wonderful thing as well.  And while I think depression is one of those things that will be somewhat of a factor in my life forever, I am grateful for the times, like now, when the air is sweet and the head is clear and life is as it should be.


Goodbye

She was beautiful, yes, but also charismatic.  I was enchanted with her as a teenager, watching Charlie's Angels every week, reading the unauthorized biography and, while I didn't have the poster, I did have the button made from the poster (I collected buttons and this particular one was a Christmas gift from Mom.)  I loved Farrah.

I made her laugh once.  It was a miserably cold and blustery day in New York.  I was crossing the street at 19th and Broadway, going from ABC Carpet & Home to the adjacent Fish's Eddy.  I remember the wind cutting like a knife and there was, oddly enough, little traffic at the time.  I had my head down and to the side trying to shield my face from the biting cold when all of a sudden as I was about to step up onto the curb I realized I was about to hit someone -- I looked up right into the face of Farrah Fawcett.  I jumped back and actually made a gasping noise -- both from recognizing her and from the near-collision -- and she laughed. 

Farrah died today in LA.  Cancer is a terrible, terrible thing.


Why

The last couple of days I have found myself longing for the good ol' days....and by the good ol' days I mean two weeks ago before I knew who Jon and Kate are.  Seriously.  They are everywhere...and they're famous for what?  A high sperm count and lack of restraint?  Obviously I don't watch their show or know their story -- maybe they adopted these kids from Malawi, Indonesia or, I don't know, North Little Rock -- but you can't stand in a checkout line without being bombarded with the intimate details of their lives. 

And now...they're getting divorced.  Read my lips:  I.  Don't. Care. 

But what about the kids?  Nope - I just looked in the pantry and I'm all out of care.

Yes, I know that makes me a bad person, and I'm okay with that, but I just can't dredge up any emotion whatsoever for these famewhores or their children.  I actually got an e-mail from someone I know yesterday requesting prayer for them. 

First, I have enough friends who work in the reality television industry to know one thing:  It's not real...sure, the situation might be real, but the producers manufacture what they need for good television viewing.  Second, I have real friends with real problems and I'm not going to waste my time and energy worrying about them.

Last night, on the local tv news, they were the LEAD story.  The LEAD.  We have a major political scandal going on in South Carolina, North Korea is threatening to blow us to smithereens and the leading story on the news is Jon and Kate Plus Eight?

Much is wrong.