I wish there were eight days in a week instead of seven: one
day to be a responsible adult and pay the bills, two days to clean the house, and then take five days to write. Marching toward retirement
changes my thinking, not so much to slow down, but to be able to do more. That dreaded age of sixty stalks me this week, a number that means upgrading to a more expensive face cream and cushier inserts in my hiking boots.
For those who know me through my character of Olivia Novack
in the Dushane Sisters Trilogy, I, too, am a bit of a cleaning freak. The two reserved days for Swiffering aren't a chore for me. I know it
sounds weird, but I love to clean. Dust bunny elimination and an immaculate refrigerator are happy moments. It’s kind of my version of yoga to get to
that Zen moment. A spill of something
sticky on the floor or a random horked-up fur ball from the cat is only a minor obstacle.
I squealed with delight when my mother gave me a mop with a
special spinning bucket that
operates on the principal of centrifugal force,
like a salad spinner for the mop head. Thanks to my Mom, my bamboo floors look great simply because
I love to use that dang mop. And I’m always on the lookout for the perfect
squeegee, a must-have tool for sparkling clean windows. At the end of the day, I splash some wine in a glass and admire
my handiwork, whether inside or outside. Either way, I open the door and say "Ahhhhhh."
In my younger and suppler days, I wished that the week
would zoom by faster—six days would’ve been a dream. In the 1980s, I’d stack
my weekends with activities that were bigger, better, less responsible, and more fun. There were many late nights at San Francisco clubs, dancing to punk and new wave music. How
on earth did I balance a career, marriage, and partying? I can only shrug at that one.
But wait—there’s more!
Photo: pepsicolawesternmt.com |
Another reason that I want an eighth day in the
week is because I want to hike, canoe, fish, and hunt with my husband. He’s at
that “it’s about time” stage too. We want to learn the contour and lore of the land
by walking it, paddling it, and stalking prey on it. The freezer awaits. We also garden to raise
our own fresh vegetables. That tended land will be in Kalispell, Montana, our
new home at the end of this summer. At any time of year, I can gaze a
three-sixty to admire the snow-capped Swan Mountains and traverse a crystal-clear
lake in our own backyard. The stars shine bright in the quiet of night above a
bonfire, and the evidence of wild, fuzzy visitors greets us in the morning. There’s
no stack-up of traffic or nonsense out of City Hall, just honest,
hardworking folk who want to do right by their neighbors.
There are other things I could do with an extra weekday. I
could make the trek to meet with an expert resource for researching my next
book, Big Sky Talk. Since I have a bit of magical realism coming
up, I want to meet with a Blackfoot elder to understand their folklore and
beliefs about reincarnation. That will be an unbelievable extra day, one that I hope will affect the course of my writing life. Some small
moments change people, and that’s one meeting that I hope will change mine.
Then there’s that eighth day with no plans or commitments. We could
get in the car and go, drive along the S-curves of Glacier National Park, a photo op around every corner. I’d check the river's water level,
the flora and fauna, and spot for bears, elk, and moose. The occasional fat
turkey might hit my peripheral vision, and I’d make a Thanksgiving note about
cooking time based on its weight. My husband would shoot it, clean it, and de-feather
the poor beast before I’d shove it in the oven (of course, after all appropriate hunting licenses had been garnered). The real reward would be the praise from step-kids
and step-grandkids savoring the aroma while watching ESPN. Food heals all historical wounds. I
love their dad, and he loves me.
I saved the best for last. The extra day might be reserved for romance, the moment we women
wish for with the men we love, topped only by fresh
sheets before lotion. But with only seven days in the week, we have
challenges by the time Saturday rolls around. Too tired. Too stressed. Too late.
Too early. Too anything. But in our wishes, the time is just right. Maybe we
could steal an overnight for just the two of us to trek into the wilderness. We’ll make up new wishes and dreams by the campfire, a reminder that life means
nothing without a partner, a lover, and a best friend.
If all else fails, then maybe an extra day could be used for
reading other authors’ works. I’m kind of hooked on a combo of Nevada Barr and Janet
Evanovich. They’re opposite bookends: Barr's wildlife ranger action in Glacier National Park against Evanovich's Jersey Girl bounty hunter of urban lowlifes. I’m tuning the characters for my new book, except mine will be baby
boomers with a lot of life experience under their belts. That makes things deliciously complicated and messy. It’s going to take all I’ve got to sort it out—times eight.
I guess the number eight is more important than I thought,
both to the Genrenistas and to me. I love blogging with Romancing the Genres. Happy
anniversary to us. And happy writing to all.
Photo: Micah Brooks |
windtreepress.com
Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com.
Available Now! Book 3 of the Dushane Sisters Trilogy |
The Dushane Sisters Trilogy concludes with Indigo Legacy, available now. There's love in the air for Olivia and Woody, but will family intrigue get in the way? Ride along for the wild trip that starts in a New York auction house and peaks in a mansion on Boston's Beacon Hill.
The Dushane sisters finally get to the truth about their mother.
6 comments:
I'm well past the 60 mark and also well past my non-writing working life by half-a decade or so. I already have those 8 days. How? Because I no longer have Monday - Sunday brain. Just realized after reading your post why my notes to myself have the "day of the week" on them. I need the visual reminder in order to engage with the rest of the world. Welcome to an 8 days a week life-style!
I really, really enjoyed your post. We were in Kalispell a few years back on vacation. Beautiful place and the scenery in amazing. So happy for you that you will move there this soon. Eight days would be awesome. I'm retired and could still use that 8th day! The weeks have been flying by. Good luck with sales!
As always, I enjoyed your post, Courtney. Eight days a week do sound good!
Lovely post, Courtney. You and I are sisters-in-cleanliness, I get an amazing sense of accomplishment from gleaming windows. Our two black cats means my dust mop gets a daily workout and I love watching the "bunnies" float away in the breeze when I shake out the mop. I, too, long for an eighth day, one solely devoted to reading for pleasure.
Thank you all! Extendable Swiffer dusters are great additions to the cleaning arsenal, especially for a shorty like me. And I hope they never take Fantastik or 409 carpet cleaner off the market. I wouldn't know what to do!
Great post! While I enjoy a clean house, I can come up with lots of things to do to put it off. But once I get started cleaning I can't stop until it's all done.
My cousin lives near Flathead Lake. When I visit her, I'll have to get hold of you and meet up.
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