Oh dear, I just gave my book to a friend who for the past twenty years has been writing fiction, essays, poetry and editing and has been published. This is scary indeed. I don’t expect any editing favors from her. No pity judgments. Just give me the straight dope. I can take it–I think. She’ll be the first person other than my family to go over it. My pits are sweating.
On to the wedding. Remember the speedboat to which I referred? Last Friday I ordered a pair of shoes from endless.com (a nice cut-rate shoe site from which I got Liz’s bridesmaid shoes) to go with my dress. I expected them to show up in the next couple of weeks, but no: a big plunk on the front step at 9:00 a.m. Tuesday morning, and there they were. And they fit! Hey, something went right! So they are the white kind that can be dyed to match the dress–but what do you think? Would that just be too matchy-matchy? Do I trust the shoe-dyer guy to get it right? And when would I ever wear light blue shoes again, attractive as they are? For that matter, when would I ever wear white shoes again? Certainly not after Labor Day.
Not much else going on. Liz’s 25th birthday was last Monday, and her dad and I got her what she most desired: the latest version of the Merck manual for veterinarians. I thought she was going to burst out crying, she was so excited. Man, that thing is fat, expensive and thorough. As Katie said, the pages were about as thin as the Bible’s. So it was a happy evening, even though I suspect Ryan, her BF, feels uneasy over the direction Liz’s life is taking her. To UC Davis? Back to Ghana? She has so many paths she desires to take; it’s quite exciting and gratifying for us to watch. I asked Ryan, wouldn’t going to Africa inspire his art? “No.” So that is that. I already dread the impasse this promises to bring.