a novel idea

The dragons are snapping at spiders in the garden and the cat’s got a brand new tail. You’d never know a couple of months ago it was chopped off in the door jam. She doesn’t mind the new length. She darts it around proudly. It’s a bob. It’s French. She bounds over the fence, spayed, and ready for adventure.

As I wait in the coffee shop I see a discarded Province has an article on “Rushing Woman’s Syndrome”. I am off to meet a dear friend who is selling Arbonne. I have been thinking about it all week: the business opportunity pitched to me: healthy products, getting rid of the middle man and mark up, women networking to make some money selling things they already buy at London Drugs. My family sold Watkins and Shaklee for years so I have a fondness thinking of that closet full of product. Oh the red liniment. Oh the cinnamon tins. The idea that strikes me most is putting in ten hours a week to build a business that will create passive income. My friend wisely suggests I not do eight jobs (which I currently am doing not counting my blog) but take on selling Arbonne so I can drop a few that don’t generate as much income. It’s a smart idea. Arbonne isn’t for me, but I hope it is for her. We have a wonderful visit regardless.

I am working too much. Rushing Woman’s Syndrome is a manufactured conceit, not a medically proven condition, but it sure hits on some truths. If going to Italy taught me anything, it is: holidays are holy days. One must have time to rest. I cannot keep spinning my wheels at this velocity unless I’m actually going to make some traction and get ahead. The only thing that generates passive income for me is writing. Do I have ten more hours a week to devote to that?

I clean my desk.

That feels better.

I clean my house.

That feels better.

I buy a juicer and pour my first kale juice into a wine goblet, hoping it will make it taste better.

It does.

And I get to work.

Anita and Lucia go to Italy: the travel novel.

Chapter one.