A couple months ago, a wildlife rescue organization released a rehabilitated bald eagle at the nearby state park the Littles and I frequent. I hoped to attend, wanted to witness the bird experience its freedom and take flight once more.
But its release into the wild coincided with my re-confinement to the classroom. I had to be back at work.
So, I settled for the vicarious experience of hearing about it from a friend, pouring over the photos she texted me, which depicted a large juvenile bald eagle flying low above the grass, the faces of onlookers alight with awe in the background. What a high it must’ve been to watch this bird fly for the first time in months, to watch it soar higher and higher, growing smaller and smaller in the sky.
I can only imagine.
Many mornings this week were crisp and cool, filled with birdsong and the chorus of crickets. Perfect for a walk with the Littles or a jog.
But mandatory for my morning commute.
At work, I often think how nice it would be to spend my 27-minute lunch break eating with colleagues, reading a book, writing in my journal, or working on my manuscript.
But there are always essays to grade, copies to make, lessons plans to create, emails to send, unexpected “fires” to put out—work to be done.
I want to nap. But dishes need washing.
I want to read. But mail needs sorting.
I want to write. But errands need running.
I want to sit and listen to the bugs and watch the clouds drift across the sky and the light fade from the day. But papers need grading.
Recently I was listening to a podcast that discussed what was essential, and how we can simplify our lives by eliminating those things that are unnecessary. The trouble is, how do we determine what’s not necessary? It’s all so contextual. There are things that are necessary to my soul, things that are necessary to my livelihood, things that are necessary to my health, my relationships, my survival—and often, they seem to be in direct conflict with each other.
For this reason, I propose a magical and entirely impossible solution: Eighthday.
Eighthday is immune to obligations. Plans simply won’t stick to it. It’s a day reserved solely for all the things the other seven days in your week couldn’t accommodate, all the things you so desperately tried—at the cost of your sleep and sanity—to fit into the other days, but couldn’t.
It’s the junk-drawer, catch-all room of the calendar, where you can safely stash all the things you need or want to do until you have time.
Writing project? Eighthday.
Home improvement project? Eighthday.
Extra long TBR list? Eighthday.
Eighthday frees up the weekend for plans with friends, church services, etc. Anything that didn’t fit? Eighthday.
Bonus? Eighthday is not bound by 24 hours. It’s as long as you need it to be.
Eighthday is a day you get all to yourself, and nothing can impinge on it. In fact, no one even knows it exists for anyone else, so no one dares heap more on you just to say, “Don’t worry; there’s always Eighthday.” (Except you, of course. Knowing Eigththday is never more than seven days away allows you the comfort of reminding yourself, “Don’t worry; there’s always Eighthday.”)
Eighthday is reserved for whatever brings you peace, your own little secret sanctuary on the calendar.
I feel better just imagining it. For now, I suppose, I’m banking all my Eighthdays up into what I hope will be many, many years of a happy, fulfilling retirement, longingly referred to as Someday.
What I’m Working On
My Current Work-In-Progress: The Good Curse
As I’ve read through my second draft, I’ve been delighted by little aphorisms uttered here and there by various characters. Here is a small sampling:
“...rising in the morning is the first supreme act of faith each day, isn’t it? Throwing the covers aside, however unwillingly, and setting feet to floor, the day’s first prayer.”
“A little more sense and a little less sentiment might make life easier to bear.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve come to know, it’s y’ can bear more than y’ think y’ can, mostly because y’ can never think up all the things y’ll have to bear.”
“Butter once churned can never again be made milk.”
“Motherhood makes monsters of us all.”
Did you know…?
The Court Of Oyer and Terminer, establised in 1692 specifically to “hear and determine” witchcraft cases, accepted the use of spectral evidence in condemning accused witches. Spectral evidence refers to what witnesses claimed to have experienced in dreams and visions, specifically when witnesses claimed to have seen the accused’s spirit in a specific place when the physical person was elsewhere.
Bonus Projects
Archie’s story, “Weclome Home,” appears on page 38 of Chicken Soup for the Soul: Pets, Pets, Pets. On November 22, I’ll be holding a reading to benefit A Pet’s Tale, a non-profit exotic animal rescue, at Three Leg Run in Chester. This event is free, dog-friendly, and open to the public. $10 of every book sold will go to exotic animals waiting for forever homes. Grab your friends, two-legged and four-legged alike, and join us!
Recently, I participated in a possum yoga class for a story in Cooperative Living Magazine. The experience led to the birth of an idea: a meditative writing class co-hosted by an animal ambassador at Awesome Possumz in collaboration with Rising Dawn Yoga Studio. Stay tuned for details! It’s going. To. Be. Epic.
Outdoor Writing
I’ve conducted all three interviews for my cover story on winter hiking and written and submitted the story. It’s always fun to talk to and learn from people as in-love with the outdoors as I am.
As mentioned above, I also participated in possum yoga recently for my next deadline. On deck: a visit to a reptile natural history museum.
Writing Community
On October 30, I participated in a Chicken Soup Zoom meeting for previous contributors. In the course of the meeting, I became acquainted with a fellow contributor who’s a descendant of Rebecca Nurse, one of the four women hanged alongside Sarah Good, the narrator and protagonist of my historical fiction manuscript, The Good Curse.
What I’m Reading
I have almost finished Vanessa Chakour’s Earthly Bodies: Embracing Animal Nature.
Links to My Latest
“Welcome Home,” a story I wrote about Archie, appears in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Pets, Pets, Pets, released on October 28.
My most recent outdoors piece, “The Magic of Trees: A day at the State Arboretum of Virginia,” appears in the October issue of Cooperative Living Magazine. This piece was a collaboration with a dear friend who also happens to be a talented photographer.
Archie and The Littles
Arhcie patiently waits for me to take him to his heat lamp to dry off and warm up after a shower.
Archie enjoys one of the ten new books I bought him for his 25th birthday and second Gotcha Day, which coincided with Halloween.
The Littles, whose 7th birthday is Monday, frolic in a field on an afternoon walk.
What I Saw Outside
This little wren slept on our front porch most nights this summer and into mid-fall. Most mornings, he (or she) sang me awake from the wreath right outside my bedroom window.
Sunset as seen on a recent walk with The Littles, a few days after the time change
A golden ginkgo glows against a blue November sky.
Literary Calendar
November
November 22, 2025 | 12pm-2pm | Chicken Soup for the Soul: Pets, Pets, Pets Reading and Signing to benefit A Pet’s Tale at Three Leg Run
$10 of every book sold benefits the exotic pets awaiting forever homes at A Pet’s Tale! This free, in-person event is dog-friendly and open to the public!
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