2003-05-30
My trip went really well, the only real downside being that our days were so jammed that I didn't get to relax as I'd hoped I might. But being apart from Clay was okay for me and for Clay for B. It seems like kind of a non-issue now; it's hard to remember my being so concerned about it. Very glad I went. (And Clay picked up nursing right where he left off; I'd been a bit worried that he might forget how. In my absence, B said that Clay periodically lifted B's shirts; upon seeing his hairy belly, Clay would laugh uproariously.)
Clay seemed to grow up quite a bit in my absence. Development seems to go in spurts and he'd plateaued for a bit but over this past weekend demonstrated of a couple of new tricks. First, he's begun to shake his head in response to pretty much all questions. Second, he's begun to make funny faces. When he does a pretend-sad face, we feign concern and then he cracks up. Very sweet.
And what else? God, who knows? Life feels pretty good lately. I'm trying to train myself to be happier, to make the decision to shift my focus to all that is rich and fabulous in my.... Oh, how interesting. I intended to say "all that is rich and fabulous in my life" but instead typed "all that is rich and fabulous in myself." A telling slip, perhaps. Anyway, what I want to shift my focus away from are the small corners of life that aren't going as well as I might wish, corners over which I have little or no control. And it seems to be working!
I was reading a novel that described a period in a character's life by saying (paraphrased) "It was the happiest time of her life, though she didn't realize it." This sobered me. What if THIS is the happiest time of MY life? What if I'm frittering it away letting myself get irritated over stupid little things when I could be enjoying every day? Even if this is isn't the happiest time of my life, why waste half an hour? And what does it mean, this word ENJOY? It has always had a connotation of passivitity for me--you don't exactly have control over whether or not you enjoy something. Or do you?
In the past, I've learned to like things. I've been reading a really cool book called Playful Parenting. The author told an anecdote about how he liked long hair but his wife would always get her hair cut short. A friend gave him the following advice: "The next time she gets her hair cut, tell her you like it. And MEAN it." He did so--it worked.
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Update on agent stuff (and thanks to Kymm for asking): I called her in early May and, as I'd expected, her busy-ness level had not significantly changed. She encouraged me to look for another agent if I want to, but I don't want to. She's really on the fence, reluctant to make a commitment but also reluctant to let me go. I understand and I so appreciate her being direct with me. I'm being equally direct with her--I'm on my own fence. So we're gonna talk again in early June (just realized, that's in a couple of days). She thought she might have someone who could read the manuscript and offer some notes.
Meanwhile, my best friend has begun to edit the manuscript for me. She initially proposed that she'd edit mine if I'd edit a screenplay of hers (kind of like in Strangers on a Train, where two guys commit murders on each other's behalf). Then she decided that she wanted to do the screenplay herself, but she'd still try her hand at fixing my book. She not just doing it to be nice to me, though, she really believes in the book and wants to get it out there. (What a friend, huh? Even if I hadn't already intended to dedicate the thing to her, I certainly would now.)
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