Thank God it’s Monday. Wife’s at work. The house is quiet. I have made Monday a day of peace. A luxury of the retired and unemployed . . . not easy to acquire. There’s always something that needs doing. About a year ago I started taking Monday off. A day of rest. Sundays don’t work for me. I end up cutting the grass or washing the car . . . pulling weeds or fixing something. Mondays I refuse to do anything at all, unless is brings me pleasure. A total refusal to work. This weekend I shoveled five cubic yards of gavel. One yard weighs 2,800 pounds. That is a perfect definition of work. Weight X Movement = Work. Earlier this week I shoveled and distributed five yards of wood chips.
Writing this blog is relaxing, kind of fun and is as close as I can come to writing. In a way these blogs are notes to myself—to be read a year or so from now. I know I will write something about this move to Sweden – On Leaving America. But it hurts not to write right now . . these past months. There are so many things I want to work on, and I’ve been getting published these last two years, even now when I’m not writing I’m getting a few acceptances from the eighty-three submissions I’ve made since January. I hate not writing. But today I play with this blog—and you.
I think it was Valery who commented she wanted to read more about Amber. It’s provocative thought. It would be fun and easy to do . . . and I could do it here on the blog maybe once a week. It seems kind of silly and might bore male followers. But I don’t have time to be writing anything serious. I should be working on Dearie, a 70,000 word novel I’ve been working on for 5 years. It’s close to finished. It’s been written, revised many times. I have a nice cover and am working with an editor. I just need one more revision and I’m done with it. But I just can’t go there now. I could write, Buckminster & Amber . . . easy I think. How would Amber see the world? Herself?