What is your perfect day like ?

My Perfect day is the kind where I manage to find a balance between getting things accomplished and having time left over to relax.

My Seriously Fun day does not require perfection. All I need for that is some friends, the outdoors, an outdoor vehicle of some sort be it an ATV, Boat or an animal like a Horse, Elephant...whatever I can ride that won't attack me first, some munchies, drink, good music, etc.

If the activity is anything I have to style my hair for, it can still be fun but it will never be Seriously Fun.

I am in need of a Seriously Fun day. It has been soo long since I had one.

Gehanna

My perfact day would be one where no one griped at me for not getting the floor vacuumed or the dishes emptyed out of the dishwasher! Where all I could do, without any distractions, would be to sit at my computer and just write!! My happy little writters Muse would come down and settle on my shoulders and all my thoughts and feelings would magically come across onto the screen and I wouldnt sit there starting and wondering what I was doing wrong LOL

My perfect day is spent at a marsh, swimming and watching fiddler crabs to my heart's content, and having my whole family along with me, as amazed and in love with the marshes as I am. The whole day there is not a single complaint, and when we arrive back home an hour after dark (having been at the marsh sunrise to sunset) I can sit and write until midnight, at which point I go outside and look at the moonlight. After half an hour, I come back in, meditate, and go to bed, completely at peace and content.

My perfect day would be where nothing goes according to plan, and everything goes against me - just to prove that life cannot be commanded by silly little me.

Ooh! I have another one- another perfect day, I mean. This is my "dream-day," if you will.


I wake up, pull out the newpaper, and discover that overnight all fossil fuel energy sources have been affordably replaced by renewable resoures, and all drilling, strip mining, etc., has ceased permentantly. And on this day no one dies, and no violent crimes take place. Also, I win the lottery, and make out with 10 billion dollars. The government agrees with me that since the lottery is a tax, the money I won is tax free. I start my own charity, donate lots to existing charities, buy my own island, pay off all the debts of everyone in my family, give certain people their choice of one gift up that costs up to a million dollars, and go on a shopping spree at all my favorite book stores. I then am able to spend the rest of my life happliy writing and painting away. On this day, a humane cure for both cancer and AIDS is found. Oh, and I get to meet William Shakespeare through time travel. My suspicions are proved- and he is a she, writing under a pseudonym. I then am able to prove this to the modern world.

::sigh:: what a perfect day.

My perfect day would start by waking up with no pain.

After that, anything would be great.

My perfect day includes lots of trees, sparkling clear lakes, blue skies with puffy white clouds, warm but not to hot temperatures, rocky cliffs, and no pressures to do very much.

Just had a bunch of them, too...

Here's hoping everyone has a perfect day sometime.

My perfect day would be sleep, eat, write, eat, write, eat, write and sleep in that order. Oh, and getting acceptances for works I haven't submitted anywhere yet would be nice too.

Oh wait...perfect day, not dream day.

~DragonHeart~

Oh, hey, in 8th grade for my English class we had to do a project about ourselves, answering questions like what you want to be when you grow up, what are your favorite things, etc. One was to plan your perfect day. How funny. I took it quite literally and planned all twenty four hours, as though I would know at midnight that it was the perfect day. I even scheduled bathroom breaks. Ha. I called my best friends and asked what they would like to do and included those things too. Of course, at 13, my perfect day involved my friends and me meeting Def Leppard and Van Halen, and having a party with them. I remember looking at my classmates perfect days and thinking how boring they were. They were all grounded in reality; one kid wrote sleep til noon. Heck, I did that every saturday! One girl had a date. She was gorgeous, and could have a date any old day. Come on. I knew even if I met Def Leppard they wouldn't come to my house for a party, but who cares? It was fun to imagine it.

So, some 17 years later, what is my perfect day? mmm....
If it can be as fanciful as when I was thirteen, I think it would involve winning the lottery, getting an acceptance from a publisher, being on vacation with my husband, (not the day traveling but being there) and really good meals. Maybe Def Leppard can be at the restuarant. Ha!

Hmm, my perfect day...

It would start by winning the lottery. Then I would settle all issues here, pack up, and move my family to Wales. There I would find a castle, by the deed, fix it up, and live in it. I would have my own office with shelves full of books lining each wall from floor to ceiling. My children would have their own huge playroom right across and I could leave the door open to watch them as I worked on the computer.

That would be my ideal day. LOL

My perfect day is waking up late to a beautiful sunny warm day, going outside to watch the tide roll in at my (someday) seaside home, waves crashing, when the doorbell rings. I answer and it is a mailman delivering a box containing the hard cover of my first ever published novel. That would be a happy and perfect day...

...then I'd go watch a bunch of smiley faces beat up a horse:

:horse:

Sorry, I found this in the smileys. I wasn't sure how else to use this.

Awaken at 4:10 a.m. - five minutes before the alarm. Make thermos of tea and grab a banana. Slip into the boat in the near-dark of pre-dawn and make my way through wisps of fog to where I know the walleye are waiting. Spend three hours or so making their acquaintence and bring two home.

Wash up and slip back under the covers to wake my lover in slow and delicious ways.

Re-emerge to clean the catch and fry them up for brunch, served with toast and brown-sugared beans.

Sit on the dock and watch the kids swim and play with half my mind on where those walleye will be in an hour, with the sun high, wind low, and light penetrating deep into the clear water.

Take a couple of the kids with me for the afternoon foray. Walleye aren't where they're supposed to be and kids get restless so - it's off to the weedbed where the panfish are plentiful and obliging.

Back to the cottage for a late afternoon nap. Awaken and jump off the dock to clear the lingering cobwebs. The cool water works that magic in seconds.

Dry off, make a whiskey and soda and sip while BBQ-ing supper.

Eat. Kibbitz. Laugh.

Head out for the evening walleye hunt. Fish til the mosquitoes start to swarm then return, clean the catch, make a 2nd drink, and read or play cards for an hour.

Bedtime at 10-something.

Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.....

You guys have really great perfect days.

My perfect day, I wake up on my own land, a beautiful oak covered forest with a sparkling creek just outside my window. Deer graze, birds sing. It's a clear day, not hot. My house is clean. I have a strong cup of coffee, sitting outside on my porch, feet up, watching the deer.

The mailman comes and delivers several boxes of fan letters, people who love my best selling book. I have numerous calls for appearances on TV and Radio, but I politely decline.

As this is a dream, all of my dead relatives are alive and well. We gather on my porch, and drink coffee or iced tea, and talk. I ask my dad all the things I neglected to ask him when he was alive, and I hug my brother, something I didn't do when he was alive. We all laugh like old times.

Everybody is happy. My sister is there, not an alcoholic.

We are surrounded by birds, animals, nature and platters of fresh fruit.

All my special friends from past and present are with me.


Ah - I guess I have died and gone to heaven. It's my version of the after -life.

Oh - and you can take as many naps as you want - and time doesn't pass.

Shades of Primary Colors through the Window

I wake up just before dawn in my house on a northern shore of Oahu just off the beach. The ocean surf keeps a steady pattern in the background, and strange bird calls hasten the sun's rising over the not-so-distant mountains.

After a glass of water and a slice of fruit, I slip on my jogging shoes and start walking along the beach. The air smells like ocean, salty and primordial. The sand slips from beneath my shoes and piles up along the sides, holding me back. In five minutes, I'm running on the hardpack, making my way through the palm trees and scrub to the asphalt path, waving and nodding to the cyclers and runners and joggers and walkers that I pass and who pass me.

An hour later, I'm walking back along the same stretch of sand to my home. A shower, a breakfast, and a desk await me. A window to the beach, the trees, the sky--everything is a shade of a primary color.

For a while, I do what it is I have to do, the things that give my life meaning. They have to do with creation, files and documents, music and programming, words and books. Somehow they seem meaningful and necessary to other people, and I enjoy doing them for that reason.

Then humans enter my picture. Signifcant others. We learn, we grow, we discuss, we plan, we love, we laugh, we cry. We play Nintendo and watch television, sail kites and Frisbees, read from the old books and learn new ways.

Come the afternoon, storm clouds billow over the mountains and spill out onto the valleys and lowlands. Lightning and rain, thunder and wind remind us of our mortality, of our life, of the excitement that resides in everything, waiting for the perfect recipe of electrons and protons to allow it release.

Some days include a swim in the ocean. When it's there, you don't have to do it every day to enjoy it. Just knowing the possibility exists makes it a joy. Some days a trip into town lets us see that another way of life makes possible our way of life. And our way of life makes possible their way.

We do things to make the days worthwhile, to make our lives worth living, so that when we get to the end of the day, we can say, yeah, that was cool, but tomorrow I'm going to do this and that and some other things differently. But this day, we ate mangos and boiled pig and drank papaya juice. We talked about days long gone when villagers spent weeks carving out a tree trunk into a canoe, wove root fibers into cloth, and remembered their relatives stories.

I click some links and pay a few bills and remember that tomorrow I've got to mow the lawn. But it doesn't seem bad. Maybe I'll do it one blade of grass at a time.

Perfect day....hmmm. I've had this recurring dream for about a week now and it fits perfectly.

Extended vacation in the Keys, private bungalow with hammocks and lush tropical foliage everywhere is the setting.

I Wake up just before dawn to a pot of freshly brewed coffee and proceed to blend the perfect combination with cream & sugar.

I take the coffee out to the beach where I sit, watching the sun's struggle to overtake the night.

Hubby arrives soon thereafter.

No words...just the peaceful bliss of the waves and the birds and all the other *critters* of the beach.

(With a preventative slathering of 500 SPF just in case!)

My perfect day...

My perfect day has a morning which lasts much longer than usual. It also contains almost all the special moments of a lifetime; (some things, like marriage and the birth of a particular child, are special in their UNrepeatability).

I wake up naturally, at 5:30 AM, at the end of a glorious and memorable dream in my own home, with my hubby softly snoring next to me. I kiss him without waking him up, and slip out of bed to greet the morning. Because this is a fantasy day (!) someone remembered to make the hazelnut coffee the night before, and I can smell it as I walk across the family room and look out the wall of unshuttered windows overlooking our property. The stars and distant city lights twinkle through the live oak trees like a rhinestone necklace, the carpet is soft under my feet, and the house is absolutely quiet. I stir 2 scoops of hot chocolate and Splenda into my strong coffee, and grabbing a banana that is just starting to freckle, I head to the library. It greets me like it does every morning, sconce lights turned low on the sage green walls, and I settle into the chair in the corner by the bookcase with all my favorite books. On the ottoman is my Bible and journal, and I set the timer on the piano to my left, because I am prone to losing all track of time in this place where I muse, and meditate, and read, and wonder, and smile, and weep, and wrestle, and praise. The words attempting to describe this encounter already fill 6 ring binders, so I will move on to where the birds are singing, the timer rings, and I look up to see sunlight streaming in through the centuries-old stained glass window hanging in the east window by the fireplace. It is from an old church in England, and in vibrant reds, greens, blues, and golds it reads, "Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth which was crucified; He is risen, He is not here!" And my perfect morning is almost complete.



I tiptoe back into the bedroom, and wake up my hubby of 25 years very slowly, because, since it's the perfect day, he doesn't have to go in to work. After a warm shower, he heads to the kitchen to make the house smell great with his gourmet breakfast skills, and then I go to the icerink and work it all off, while he does his morning thing on the riding mower. Because it's the perfect morning, the rink is virtually empty, and freshly zambonied, and I greet a couple of friends and lace up. Since it's the perfect day, I opt not to wear the crash pad, and leave the pads out of my gloves. The ice is smooth under my feet, the rush of cool air welcome in my face, and the music in my headphones spurs me on as I land every jump and execute every spin. (This IS a fantasy day, after all!) I try something new and creative, and am not discouraged by the results. At the end of 90 minutes, I am not wiped out, but exhilarated, and I have no new bruises.



On my way home there are no meds to pick up at the pharmacy, because my children have no disabilities, and we are all healthy. As I arrive home, I see my teenage son smiling as he edges the yard without being asked. I enter the house to the strains of piano music wafting in from the library; my daughter has decided to surprise me by doing the breakfast dishes, and practicing piano without being asked. I have time now to sew the gift I’m making for a friend before we have a family outing. My husband comes into the house with the news that this friend (from Australia, met online) has called to say she has been given a clean bill of health, and that she and her husband are coming here next week in response to our invitation. We then take our kids out bowling, and no one rolls their eyes at the suggestion, or laughs too hard at my gutter balls. Our teenagers laugh and chat like good friends the whole time.



When I get home, I check my emails and I have no spam. Two are from family with no bones to pick, and one is from a long-lost friend who wanted to reconnect. I spend time answering them, and then my muse starts whispering inspiration, and I write for an hour or two with NO interruptions. I then check the mailbox, and wonder of wonders, there is (finally) a reply from the book publisher!! They love my book, and have enclosed an author-friendly contract and advance. I also hear from the anthology publisher, who wants all 20 of the poems I sent her.



As I deliver a meal to my friend and neighbor later, I am met at the door with the exciting news that her cancer has mysteriously and suddenly gone into remission. We laugh and cry and hug.



That night we have small group (hah!—30 people!) from our church over to our house, and we have an unseasonably cool summer evening for our outdoor barbeque. Our pastor spends the next 2 hours attempting to lead this group of very verbal, very funny people in a semi-serious discussion on the sermon topic. At the end, there are no prayer requests because everyone’s friends and family are on top of the world, no problems. So we end with praise instead, as we enjoy a spectacular sunset.



The next day is Saturday, so we head to bed wondering if maybe, just maybe we can repeat it all tomorrow…