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2003-06-17

I'm at a caf� on Sunday afternoon. I came here because I had work (for work) to do. It's Fathers Day but B agreed to do things with Clay so that I could do what I needed to do. (They drove to a farmers' market an hour away, where I just learned via cell phone that they found some great flowering plants, and are now going to Sears and Lowe's for gardening supplies.) Anyway, I've made a big dent in my work so I'm taking a break.

The caf� I'm in is in an independent bookstore and it's a pretty nice, well-lit, quiet place. And since the last time I've been here they've even added Internet access. I didn't bring a wireless card or Ethernet cable so I'm out of luck, but it's just as well since part of the point of my being here--aside from a general need to get out of the house--is the lack of distractions.

A fair number of alterna-teens frequent this place, some of whose bodies are modified to extremes. I've never much cared for tattoos or any but the tamest of piercings but since having a child I must say these things fill me with a new level of horror. The thought that my son might permanently alter his beautiful, perfect body deeply disturbs me. When the time comes, I will encourage Clay to focus on the hair--dye it, shave it all off, sport creative facial hair, experiment with dreadlocks. If he chooses to do irreversible things to his body, I'll do my best to accept it but really, the thought almost makes me cry. I saw a kid in here earlier whose earlobes had been stretched out into doughnut shapes and all I could think was, "God, his poor mother."

I guess I'm officially old. And bourgeois. So be it.

On the novel front: the best friend has finished editing the manuscript! Now we will have a series of phone calls in which she'll read me her edits and I'll enter them into the file. Yes, it seems like a time-consuming way to transfer this knowledge, but it's the one she insists upon so I'll gratefully go along with the plan.

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