mmmm narcotics and donuts. Life, for this brief moment, is so good. And the sun has peeked in and it's balmy and in the forties. Pitchers and Catchers report to Port St. Lucie in two weeks. Spring training is the best place on earth. One minute you are trudging through the grey snow of a Manhattan winter, then suddenly, wham! The smell of the outfield, the majestic break on an overhand curve, the sound of a dinger. God, but do I love baseball. Got to hope my Mets' offseason moves pan out. But, as is our motto "You gotta believe!" Being a Mets fan in this Yankee town is hard, but I like to think that seeing the bottom -- and last season was the bottom no doubt -- will make the eventual ascent to the mountaintop of the NL East that much better. It's like love, I'm a better man for the bad times I've endured, and when I meet the future Mrs. Blue Trash, I'll call up my exes and thank them for context. Love rules, baseball rules, and my two pugs Fidel and Esperanza rule. Life is good on this mental health day, very very good AND a Terrance Mallick movie is on TV AND my favorite Survivor, Tom the Kentuckian Goat Farmer made it through the first tribal council. What else is good? Hmm, that the new three year olds will start prepping for the Kentucky Derby this weekend, that I have two parties to go to where there will be lots of Veuve Cliquot, and that the Alarm got back together on bands reunited, and that the pain that is Valentine's Day will be mitigated by the Daytona 500 dropping the day after.
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PS: Pugs are adorable. I'm sure you know.