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2001-06-04 | 9:24 a.m.

I am in a taking-stock mood. I want to call the community college and find out whether I can still sign up for a self-paced math class. Maybe I can finish my degree before I'm 40 (for crying out loud). I already walked through commencement but I never fulfilled the quantitative reasoning requirement because I have trouble with math. I mean I have serious trouble with math. Everyone tries to convince me that it's just my personality, that I psych myself out of it or something, but I beg to differ.

I'm also going to write to Leo and ask him to help Frank get an agent. This is ridiculous. At my urging, Frank put together a package and sent it to a local, well-recommended agent and she never even responded. Mean old cow. It's not like Frank is some putz writing bad poetry. He is a real writer! So I put Frank in touch with another writer, a friend of Leo's and an acquaintance of mine, and he said you can't really get an agent these days without another writer vouching for you. Then he read Frank's book and raved about it and said he would put Frank in touch with his own agent---one of the biggest agents on the West Coast. Such thrilling news and then ... nothing ever happened. Frank doesn't want to ask him about it again because it's embarrassing. So I think it's time to pull out all the stops.

What else. Well I have an assignment to do for Stephen's company (due 6/18, but I'd like to get it out of the way before then, since it practically gives me hives just to think about it) and a board meeting tomorrow night, so I need to remember to have all the stuff ready to go and something decent to wear. Preferably black.

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