Little ironies

I'm a bit slammed with work, panicked by looming deadlines, and wondering at the wisdom of hoping to be chosen to collaborate on a book that is wildly interesting to me, but one that will certainly make my life a little, no, a lot more stressful. I haven't heard yet whether I got the book I interviewed for. The beautiful and kind agent did email me last night to say a decision should be made this week. I'm trying to work fast and smart on my current projects, to clear the decks for the possibility of more work. In a way, I'm in a good place. If I get the book, I win. If I don't, I will be less stressed, so I also win.

We had houseguests this past weekend, my niece and her fiancé (left), and also a friend whose family lived down the street from our family when we were growing up on Paddington Terrace, for which this blog is named. As you can imagine, there were lots of laughs and reminiscences about those halcyon days. Our houseguest's sister was my brother's first wife; they later divorced, but she is still my sister. She lives in Germany with her true love now, both of them brainiac scientists.

Her little brother Robert, my onetime neighbor, joked that he used to come thirty-first out of thirty students in his high school class. It's a delightful irony, because he's now the CEO of an information technology company, has published two breathtaking photography books, bought a premium stretch of beachfront property on which he has placed a houseboat that he is renovating, and has dibs in numerous other business ventures besides. The newest? He was in the city this week attending a seminar to become officially certified as a matchmaker. His clientele will be executive women. He had the idea one week, located a well appointed office space the next week, identified who he could hire to run the business while he did his day job, and registered to acquire the proper credentials by the week after that. And while he was with us this week, in between impromptu comedy routines, he wrote his business plan.

My dad always said, the bottom five percent of any class will employ the top five percent. He reasoned that people who don't overthink the obstacles but dive right in are the ones who end up making magic. Better not to know the hurdles ahead, but to meet them as they come, he reflected. This did not mean he was remotely okay with my brother and me falling below the top five percent of our classes.

The photo is of Robert and me with another denizens of our Paddington Terrace days. On the right is Ian, who lived across the street from me with his older sister who was my age, and a younger brother. His dad was a judge, like mine. Ian now lives in upstate New York. He came to visit, as he and Robert were thick as thieves growing up. They're the same age, went to the same school, and were in the same grade. Ian, however, posted straight As, and was never less than second in his class. There are so many ways to be brilliant.

In other news, I've made my blog private for work reasons, and have tried to invite all of you who I know read here. There may be other regular readers who never comment—I wish there were a way to let them know they are welcome, too. If you have any ideas about that, please share.