Distractions
I’ve spent the last couple of work hours (all right, last several work hours, possibly even the last dozen or two work hours) trying to build my website. This is a wee bit distracting from the real work at hand, namely, the next book which is (very) tentatively called A Dragon for Tea. There is something very satisfying about working through the mysteries that are website encoding. I mean, sheesh. One little semi-colon or number out of place and the whole thing suddenly looks like spaghetti on the wall. But when it does work, well. That’s something else again.
When I was 25, I got married and then left for Cairo about six weeks later. I was (you will appreciate) nervous. I was to be a diplomat’s wife. That seemed to suggest that I needed accoutrements somewhat more elegant than any I possessed. And I became obsessed with the idea of linen cocktail napkins — small, starched white linen squares which ambassadors could daintily press to their lips after sampling the Ferrero Roche. A woman with such napkins would never be caught unprepared. She would be calm in all circumstances, well-dressed, elegant, with neat hair and unscuffed shoes. She would speak so wittily and intelligently that entire roomfuls of people would hang on her every word. She would never spill the punch or break a dish. She would not feel scared about moving to Egypt. She would not feel worried. She would be utterly competent and composed.
I wanted to be that woman and the small white linen napkins — I was sure — would be the magic key. They would, like a wave from a fairy godmother’s wand, remove my youth, my insecurity, my fear — and leave me taller, lovelier and far more sure of myself. They didn’t of course. They did occasionally make it onto the table, or were carried around under someone’s cheese and cracker, but I was still me. Short. Young. Scared. I still wore unshined boots and spilled things on myself and other people. I said the wrong thing at the wrong time and hid for days in embarrassment. No magic. Just napkins.
I still do this same thing. I want to be successful, confident and assured. To be professional and well-disciplined. I am older and wiser enough to know that there are no magic lamps to rub that will make this so. I need to do it for myself. But building this website is a little like buying dozens of white cocktail napkins. Looking ahead at who I want to be, and making sure that if the ambassador ever does come calling, that I am ready.
