I know, it’s been a while, but I figured you wouldn’t want to hear about how sick I’ve been. Being sick is a full time job. I know this to be true, because I tried to do my other full time job last Friday, and I got sent home. Apparently my feeble croak frightened the listeners. So I went home to bed and slept for 18 of the next 24 hours. I would like to tell you that I’m better. I would also like to tell you that plump is the new slim, that 50 is the new 30, and that Trump is doing a better job than anyone realizes. Anyway, this is not going to kill me. I’ve got my life to live, and all my love to give, and I’ll survive.


In the midst of coughing up pieces of lung and feeling sorry for myself, I managed to read two entire books: So Much Love, by Rebecca Rosenblum, and The Child Finder, by Rene Denfeld.  Good reads both, but coincidentally, they both deal with abductions. I hadn’t planned it that way, having bought them separately, and some time ago at that. There is, however, a genre of popular fiction these days devoted to missing women and children, and it seems to be growing. What’s up with that? Gone Girl, Room, Missing Child, The Last Child, What She Knew, The Sleepwalker, The Child in Time, Girl Last Seen, etc. They seem to cater to a collective sense of anxiety, and I don’t know if it’s good for us (me). I also watched Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri, which again deals with the disappearance and murder of a teenage girl. It’s a terrific movie, but can you blame me for having nightmares? I have two sons, both of who top out above 6 foot two, and who could probably trounce anyone who came near them. Well, Aidan certainly could. Ronan would defend himself with his poetry skills. Just as well that I did not have a daughter; otherwise I would have raised her Amish.


Not all of my feverish dreams have been outright nightmares. I dreamed Darren was an Elvis impersonator, that my friend Lis had four sumptuous homes (in England, France, Scotland and Dubai) that I never knew about, and I also dreamed that I went to a huge party, but there were no bathrooms. Don’t even start with me. I’ve read Freud’s “Jokes and their Relationship to the Unconscious” and I didn’t laugh once.


Anyway, less sleep and more work. I will be back on air this week, although we are off Tuesday (to shoot a TV commercial) and Thursday (for some team building exercises, which I hope do not involve making a human pyramid.) Keep well. I miss you.


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