…and apparently I have no other way to do so, or so says a friend of mine. 

Actually she’s said it for years. 

I’d never heard of A.D.D until sometime in the early 1990s, when a friend of mine Karen, in Orlando, informed me that I was most assuredly suffering from this plight.  She even compared me to George Bush, the second one.  Ouch!

Can I help it if my brain really is a computer and thoughts come and go at random. 

Can I help it if it can process more than one thing at a time? 

I’m a regular UNIX machine.

Really, I think it’s a good thing.  Well, at least for me, ah, er, sometimes.

But, it’s a little somewhat a tad really frustrating.

I can’t watch an entire TV show with out switching to another.  Several hundred times.  I read three or four books at once.  I do two or three crosswords at a time.   My mind is always going, even when I sleep.

I have 200+ unfinished blog posts.

And talking -  one topic, get serious, I flit from Kate Gosselin to The Theory of Realtivity in one breath.  Could it be  because she isn’t relevant – no, that’s not it,  those words have nothing to do with one another, oh look a chicken.

See what I mean?

It drives people nuts – an added benefit I might add. 

I think I’ve always been that way.  Seems even as a child, back before A.D.D. was invented discovered, I was, shall we say, “multi-topic friendly”.

One of Mother’s friends, Nellie,  said of me, “That boy could talk the legs off an iron kettle.”  And I’m sure I could.  But then if she’d had something interesting to say, maybe I’d have listened, bless her heart. 

Everything was so interesting.  I was curious, asking, listening – ok sometimes – and reading.

Information was important.  And sharing that information became a cause.

There really are some ignorant people out there.

My daughter, while in high school, knew that if she had a history question she couldn’t answer, I could, or I could find it in one of the 3,000 books in the house.

My son, already knew it all, so he never asked.

And I’m still that way.  Call me Sarah Palin, but I was writing on my palm so long ago, that when Palm Pilots came out, no one bought me one as I already had one built in.

And I’m the king of the post-it note, napkin, business card back, dollar bill.  I’ll write an idea on anything.

I used to carry a tape recorder, then a digital recorder, but now, I just text myself ideas.

And they come at lightning speed.

My mind never stops working.

It’s frustrating.  I can’t turn it off.  I’ll see – hear – read something and think, “There’s a blog in that!”

Maybe it’s ironic justice that most of my work at school is with kids who have  A.D.D, you know, ther real kind, diagnosed by someone who legally can do so.

Darn, a chicken!

Wow!  Maybe ADD is contagious.

See, there it goes again.  Frenetic.

Well, we actually called it the Five and Ten Cent store, but it’s one and the same.

It was in Germantown, it’s not there anylonger, and it was owend and operated by one of the nicest guys I’ve ever known.

Mr. Seelbrede.  I don’t know his first name, he was always Mr.  as was everyone back then. 

They carried everything you needed, from fabric to greeting cards to toys, hula hoops, and candy; they sold candy corn and peanuts mixed, it’s still my favorite and may have been the beginning of that addiction.  They even had wagons.  They weren’t a dime though.

It was the precursor of the Dollar Store.  Only much better.  It was a local store, operated by a local man, who knew the community, it’s needs, and it’s small wants.  He was a really nice man, and had a beautiful daughter who grew UP to be Miss USA in 1981, Kim Seelbrede.  She recently told me (via Facebook) her dad worried about kids stealing.  I was surprised to find out that they did back then.  We were way to afraid to steal.   She said “his greatest joy was clowning and connecting with his customers”, and it showed!

Mr. Seelbrede was special. 

He called me Wally.

For a few years I had no idea why.  I just thought he figured my  name was Wally, and I never corrected him.  Which is odd, as I usually corrected everyone on everything back then.  Somethings never change.

I was “outspoken”.

Finally, one day, I asked him “Why?”

He said, “Well, you look like Mr. Peepers.”

And amazingly, I did.

Now Mr. Peepers was on TV.  So, as a seven year old looking like a star was fine with me, it didn’t matter that he was reduced to selling laundry detergent.

As you may remember, I’ve often claimed that I was switched at birth, and my real parents are rich Hollywood types who could spoil me materially.  Alas, Mother insists not.

But really, take a look at this and tell me what you think?

Me:

Mr. Peepers:

Since my my motto has always been “If there’s a will, I wanna be in it!”…

…I need to run now, gotta’ go call the lawyer.

…before that piece of junk in your attic – basement – garage – closet winds UP being worth something.

Take this for example…

This 1980s era Nintendo system complete with games sold for $13,105 on e-bay.

Really, what did it cost brand new?  A couple a hundred bucks?

It amazes me what people collect, what they are willing to pay for something, and how much and how long they will look for “THE” item to complete the collection.

Now, UP is a collector, so I’m one of “those people”.   I’ve been buying and selling antique and collectible dishes and other decorative items for 30 years.  I’ve sold items to Movie Studios, Interior Decorators, and collectors.

I have a collection of three toed bowls.

I have a collection of books.

I have a collection of antique family photographs.

I have seven sets of dishes, mostly Depression Glass, but a few sets of China to boot.

And, I have a collection of punch bowls.  Five of them to be exact!

And my Christmas Punch Set -

Just what everyone needs.

I live in fear that the people from “Hoarders” will show UP and take over my house.

So, I kinda have a read on collecting and collectors.  One of my friends collects classic scale model cars.  One collect Mr. Peanut things, another collects computers.  He has one of every AT&T computer ever made.  Theyare useless, except to him, just as most collections are.

I’m always amazed at what people will collect.

And what they will pass UP on the way to collect “their thing”.

But, Nintendos?

Really, there is no taste left in America.

It started with Beanie Babies.  When I was selling 70 year old Depression Glass, an item with history, artistic value, and creativity, people would trot by my booth at the antique mall so fast, my hair would flutter.  They were all heading for the Beanie Babies. 

Rags, stuffed with beans, really.  And I’ll admit, the daughter, has a a bunch.  After 9-11, the antique business dropped off a tad.  And with today’s economy, it has to be a real rarity to command attention, much less a price. 

But, just as everything else in the world changes from time to time, it will come back.  It may be Nintendo today, or Vinyl Albums (again) tomorrow, but everything comes back. 

People love to say, “Mama had one just like that!”  It becomes a must have.  Or, “My Grandma used to serve me cereal in that old Beatles Cereal bowl.”  And it’s a required item. 

So, hang on to it.  Store it away.  You just never know when someone will be looking for a Greatful Dead T-shirt or might “hafta have” a Magic Bullet!

I hate texting.

I do it, but I hate it.

And yes, I text when I drive.

When it becomes illegal, I’ll quit…maybe.

But I hate it. 

I love the sound of my children’s voices, and would rather they call.

But, in this “modern” age, texting is the way.  It’s easy to do when ur n class + all.

So, I txt, jst lk evry 1 els.

BTW, I wish they wld cl me.

I find it amazing that people will send you a quick text rather than call.

I think it’s usually because they have something they want to say that doesn’t require the pleasantries and obligations of a conversation.

Texting is destroying the English Language too.

In class the other day, we were  peer editing.  That’s when one kid writes something and another one checks it for mistakes.  You know, trading papers.

One student changed you’re which was incorrect because the writer should have used your, to ur.

Really, ur.  I’m not making this UP.

But back to the phone. 

Pick it UP.

Call me back.

I’d rather hear your voice!