lovely day
Welcome to Mommy’s El Camino.
It’s Friday. I missed Sunday, or, rather: I took Sunday off.
Today, May 16th, is my birthday. Please buy my three books. Get your sister a copy of Excavation. Get your downstairs neighbor who smokes too much Hollywood Notebook. Get your lover Bruja. And if you just feel generous, with yourself or others, and want to do something with that feeling, please spend your money here or here.
No day is perfect but I’ve spent many years of my life dreaming of what I think would be the “perfect day.” I’ve written journal page upon journal page since adolescence about what the day would consist of. The wildest part is that from the ages twenty through thirty-five, the day was relatively the same in its make-up, and then one day in my thirties, I realized I’d made a life in which at least one or two days a week, I could have this kind of day, which I’ll just call a lovely day (h/t Bill Withers).
“Made a life” doesn’t tell you the exact ingredients, the amount of time, effort, failure, and monkeywrenches that get thrown in to make this life. BUT: what does that lovely day look like today—
I wake up. I make coffee. I write two pages long-hand in my journal. The family leaves and I am alone. The morning destination, if I leave the house, is the outdoor public pool or the nearby recreation area with miles of hiking trails. Otherwise I’m on that fucking stationary bike or I’m doing yoga on the wood floor. By mid-morning I’m done, and after various house chores and animal care of two senior cats and one senior dog, I have lunch. By noon or one o’clock, I’m sitting down with my projects notebook and/or my computer. I’m either writing the next book, or the novel, or writing the teleplay, or notes on any of these. I’m also reading other people’s work. I can do this for up to three hours, and if I’m feeling good, four. Four rarely happens. So I’ll settle for three.
The day’s monkeywrenches can and often include: running errands, additional animal care, picking up the kid from school, low energy/fatigue, depressive feelings, paid work, assorted tasks related to caregiving of my mother from across the city, feeling frozen by the news, and random house problems that pop up. There are actually far more potential and actual monkeywrenches, but that would be a whole list that overwhelms the best parts of the lovely day. And, really, most days are not a lovely day. But when I have one, as I did this week, I’m reminded that it took years upon years to get to this place. And I want more of them.
Take care. See you Sunday.
