Tug, tug, miss.

Us humans are funny. We are so different from our ancestors. We don't stay and settle roots (though some do, yes). Many humans move, travel, encompassed by our technology and our wanderlust.We grow up and we explore. I have lived in 5 different states since high school, each new journey exciting and completely bursting with promise.

But things happen to us when we move. We lose friendships, possessions, the opportunities to spend time with the people we are leaving. We dive into the new place and we start it over again. We start accumulating new friendships, new possessions, learning about the new culture. Places run their course (or maybe they don't) and the cycle continues anew.

But each time you depart a home, you leave a piece of yourself. A memory, a person, a wish, an accomplishment, a job, a friend, a lover, a heartache. But still we march on, hearts and eyes forward, ever ready to embrace the current newness.

My point is this: in this vast United States I have pieces of my experiences all tied up like heartstrings connecting me from here to there. There are tugs from any given heartstring at any given time. Tug, tug, miss. Tug, tug, miss. That's life I suppose. You get used to the missing at some point.

I just returned from Maine, and see of all my various heartstrings none of them is as strong and thick as that of my home state. As soon as I step foot off the plane the old culture surrounds me. The crisp air, the leaves, the smell of the ocean, the accents. ("Oh geez, we're gonna go on up to Kenny-bunk-port for the summah". I mean how endearing is that accent?!).

My heart hurts from the pulling. Seeing my daughter with her cousins, her second cousins, her aunts, her uncles, her grandmother her great grandmother...it was family togetherness bliss, something that is, unfortunately, a rare occurrence at this place in our lives. She loved and adored it. As a mom it made my body melt on the inside; it was so endearing. My child for whom I have not been able to provide a sibling for, was suddenly surrounded by people that genuinely loved her. It had been three years since I'd been to Maine, my daughter was 1 on her last visit. So this felt very different. This wasn't just my trip anymore. It was hers, too. And she absolutely loved it.

So here we are back in Denver. I'm blessed here, and there is so much that I love. But the pulling is there. Tug, tug, miss. Tug, tug, miss. Tug, tug, miss.

Cousins

Swan Pond, Lyman, Maine

Ah, the mighty Atlantic.

The two Eleanor Graces in my life: my grandmother and my daughter. They love each other.

The grass seems to be quite green here.

This morning I read this quote on one of my friend's facebook pages:

If you're here for four more years or four more weeks, you're here right now. I think when you're somewhere, you ought to be there. It's not about how long you stay in a place, it's about what you do while you're there, and when you go, is that place any better for your having been there.

- Jerry Stahl

Last summer I announced to the blogosphere of our interest to move back to Maine. The thing is, I wish I could live in 2 (or maybe 3) places at once. You leave pieces of your heart behind when you move, and in the true spirit of the human condition, you want those pieces back (sometimes). I want to move back to Maine and be near my old and dear friends and some of my precious family. But we have been like fish swimming upstream in this endeavor. We haven't been able to sell our house (such an exercise in frustration), the ecomony stinks, and the myth about nursing shortages doesn't seem to be true because nursing jobs are not plentiful there. And the thing about reuniting with the pieces of your heart that you left behind, is that you must leave more of your heart in the place from which you want to leave.

Maine fills me with confliction. I loved growing up there. I love the summers and the ocean and the salty air and and the small town feel everywhere you go. It was my home, the land that I grew in, and I think Ellie would have a lovely childhood back "home". 

I have lived in Colorado for 5 years now and I miss admit, I've grown pretty attached. I love my job, I have wonderful friends, and the Rocky Mountains do something for my soul that New England can not do. (Just as New England does something for my soul that Colorado can not). This is where my daughter was born, where my husband was born, and so far it has been nothing but wonderful to us. I'm not ruling out moving back to Maine. One day we'll sell our house and we'll have to revisit where we want to go. But that quote reminded me today that I am not in Maine. I am not in California (sorry Mom). Today I am in Colorado.... 

and it is awesome.


a lovely hike at Red Rocks yesterday with my girl (hiking in JANUARY!!)

breathtaking

Telluride, Colorado: my favorite place on earth



 See?

(p.s. Thank God for Maine vacations!)

My blessings are coming in the form of whoopie. Or, be careful what you wish for.

The power of social media is pretty significant. I guess I should realize this when I beckon my facebook friends to please help a Maine girl living in Colorado out by hooking me up with a sweet Maine treasure that is the whoopie pie. In this case, be careful what you wish for, as whoopie pies are calorie laden cake loaves of sweet sugary bliss. And my resistance to anything sugary is weak.

I wrote about my friends, the Cox Family, who hooked me up over the weekend, much to my delight and true surprise. Those whoopie pies had about a 12 hour life span in this house, now working their way through my metabolism and on their way to storage.

However, TODAY, I received another package, this time from my very loveable and fun cousin, Morgan. She is just the type of person to take my whoopie deprived requests seriously, and when the package marked "perishable" arrived, I knew.

I'd been blessed with another dose of whoopie.

Mike just said to me "Too bad your whoopie pie friends don't know your cycle". True dat, husband. True dat.


Am I surprised to be experiencing such an outpouring of whoopie? A little. But that's how people are in Maine, at least the people I know and love. They are good and generous, and they know a delictable piece of sugar when they see one.


I guess it's a good thing I just bought a series of spin classes. And I better make damn sure I get my at-risk-for-being-fat ass there.

Love you cuz!!!!

Whoopie!

Being from Maine, there are lots of things that I miss. The ocean. Lobsters. Steamers. Endless forests. Microbrews. And when my monthly sweet tooth kicks in...whoopie pies.

Whoopie pies are tasty treats. Good for you? I should think not. But if you can allow yourself a momentary lapse into the world of partially hydrogenated fats then you will be greeted by the sweetest little chocolate cake with gooey white insides. Sugary! Baked! The perfect fix for "that" time of the month cravings.

That said, last week I had a craving so fierce that it reduced me to posting on my facebook page a pleading request for someone from Maine to send me a whoopie pie. Now surely I did this in jest, though it did spark quite a bit of commentary. One facebook friend sent me a recipe while another friend sent me a link to a whoopie pie sending company. All great information, but ultimately too much work for something I know isn't too good for me. (read: there is no way in hell I can handle a whole batch of home cooked whoopie pies with a sugar craving so acute).

So, moving forward. Today I went to a spin class, an early morning butt kicker set to hip hop music that was so loud and full of f bombs that I was frankly a little surprised that the cops weren't peeking in to assess gang related crime. But it was great, and I came home, ready to kick off my day with some yogurt and granola, post workout, when I see this.

Oh dear, is it? Could it be?

Whoopie pies!!!

Ellie didn't quite know what to think, she just knew that her mom was VERY excited.

Yes, I am a terrible mother.



The newest generation of sugar fiendery. Sorry Ellie.

 I would like to give a HUMONGOUS shout out to my friends, the Cox family. There are real ways of knowing who your friends are in life. Some give you a shoulder to cry on. Some hold your hair back when you're sick. And some send you whoopie pies. From far far away.

Thanks, friends!

So, so long calorie deficit day....hello whoopie!

Why Portland, Maine calls our name

Making a move across the country is no small feat, and we are not entirely resounded to the idea. There are things to put in place, practical things, like 401k's and housing markets, and there is a letting go that I think we are both kind of scared to make.

Having said that, it is easy to fall in love with Portland, Maine. It's a gorgeous city, full of old time charm with it's cobblestone streets and it's old architecture. Right on the water's edge it smells like clean ocean air and has a salt of the earth energy when you explore the hidden treasures of it's local dives. You can stand downtown amidst the bustle of city life and look out to the lush, green islands of Casco Bay. In short, it's beautiful, it really is. As a foodie wanna be Portland feeds me well; the restaurants are superb. It has culture and art, awesome coffee shops, diners for breakfast, and if you take the ever so short drives to the ocean, you can stop at dairy bars! (rarely seen in Colorado) Now THAT is good eating!

I won't say that we are moving there. And I won't say that we aren't. We have a lot to figure out. But it appeals to both of us, and as a mom, it seems like a pretty great place to raise a child. And as luck would have it I seem to have lots of old friends with children right around Ellie's age, and that is pretty special. We have wonderful friends there in general, so a transition so big would not seem nearly as daunting.

I'm not sure what the future will bring for us. As far as I'm concerned I'm home wherever my family is. But Portland is a special place for us, and it's easy to envision our lives there.

a day at the beach

Sun high in the sky

Water glistening,

Sand in your mouth,

Salt in your hair,

Seashells at your feet,

Sandwiches from the cooler,

Sandcastles created, then destroyed,

Birds overhead,

Waves swooshing,

Boats in the distance,

Children laughing,

Treasures left from the tide,

Lounging,

Remembering how sweet life can be.

traveling

We have returned from 10 days in Maine. We are tired, glad for routine, but for me anyway, still reeling. Maine is amazing and special in so many different ways. And the friends and family that are there make it so difficult to leave. There is nothing compared to the smell of that ocean air,
the saltiness on your skin, the green foliage, the amazing people. I just unpacked my bag and there is sand from the Atlantic Ocean all over my floor. I don't want to pick it up.

This week I'm dedicating to Maine. Goodness to come all week.

I'm still here, just been thinking a lot.

So me and my husband have been thinking. And talking. And planning. We are thinking about a move, an intense, pack up your life kind of move. We've made lists: what is important, what we must have. Where do we want Ellie to grow up.

You should know, I'm not from Denver. I'm from Maine. And I've lived a chunk of my adulthood in California. I went to nursing school here in Colorado. And while here, I got me a husband and a kid. I had sort of resigned myself to the fact that I was kind of stuck here. Not that here is bad, it's gorgeous. But I have no family here, except the family I married in to. And there's no real water to speak of, which is hard for an ocean loving gal. So when Mike approached me and said he was ready to make a move, well I was shocked. And then I was elated.
Now I get to go home.

I don't have a lot of nostalgic value for Denver. Except for a couple of really good friends who yes I will certainly cry when I leave, this has never felt like home. We've tried to visualize ourselves in places like northern California, Oregon, Seattle. But with all of my soul searching I've come to realize that home feels like Maine. Portland, Maine. Beautiful, coastal, livable, Portland, Maine.

Surprise!

So nothing is set in stone. We are still deliberating. But this is how we are leaning. We've been talking about this for a while now, and truthfully, the more I think about it, the more excited I am. I have a longing for Maine that is sometimes painful. It's beautiful and friendly and slightly hickish and people that are from there are generally awesome. (ahem). So, most people don't know about this plan until now. And there are certain people that I've put off telling. Mostly because it makes me sad. That part. Certain people, like certain next door neighbors who I love like a sister make me feel too sad to talk about this with. Shoot.

I'm a mover, what can I say? I've lived here for 4 years now and that seems to be my max. I sailed away from Maine over 10 years ago, looking for adventures and new experiences. And now I get to go home. Share my new family with my old family. Feel that cold Atlantic ocean air. Watch my daughter discover all of the magic that Maine has to offer. These are good things. And the future, it's looking pretty shiny right now.

So the goal now is the have the best Colorado summer ever. Because soon we're going to be coastal.

Our little traveler

Man nothing heals the downtrodden psyche like a little vacation. Wow do I love vacation! Being away from the house, away from bills, away from dirty piles of whatever, seeing new places. It's healing and I needed it! And I/we got it!

Little Eleanor got to take her first trip to Maine, the place where her mama grew up. I love Maine. To me it is the best place to go for a vacation (and wonderful to live in as well). She got to see the ocean, the woods, tons of family and friends, but sadly no Moose. Though we certainly tried on that one.

Ellie rocked it on the plane. She slept the whole time and only woke up to nurse. She rocked it on the trip as well. She was passed around to so many different family members, was completely out of her normal routine, yet was rarely fussy. Yes, I am lucky. I fully acknowledge this. Of course much of the trip was spent in her Moby wrap (see picture above). This wrap is a lifesaver. It keeps her calm, warm, and it keeps her away from strange hands wanting to touch her and pick her up. Sometimes that gets very annoying!

In short, vacation = perfect reminder that life exists outside of my own self-imposed stresses!

Where am I?

I'm on vacation.

Where you need to beware of crossing Moose.
Where you may find yourself in traffic with tractors.
Where you check into a cabin and they don't even have a key for it.
Where you can say you had a good meal if you have butter stains all over your shirt.
You might be related to the people you meet.
You might see people wearing matching tshirts. With wolves on them.
Where peak season isn't summer. It's snowmobiling season.
Where you wave to oncoming traffic.
Where you pick up a couple pickled eggs when you fill up your car.
Where your rental car could be 1997 Geo Prism with roaches in the ashtray.

Where am I?

Death of a great artist

Andrew Wyeth, 91, has passed away. As a girl who grew up in Maine, I grew up to really appreciate his work. There is a certain something about New England, it's a smell, a touch. The way the ocean air would be filled with salt. The victorian houses with all of their roominess, the way they would become dilapidated. He captured New England living. His images are like looking back through my own memories.

This image here, perhaps his most famous, was called Christina's World. Now I don't know if a relative told me this or I just got it stuck in my head somehow, but I grew up thinking it was a picture of my grandmother's old homestead. Can't you see why I'd think that?

In any case, Andrew Wyeth was a wonderful, wonderful artist. His works will live long after him.

It's the weekend!

Have a great weekend everyone. I'm still in Maine and happy to say it is still wonderful. Talk to you soon!

The beauty of being at Nannie's

• 
  
  Three square meals and lots of baked goods.
• 
  
  Going for a run and discovering a magical quarry.
• 
  
  Perusing the newest additions of homemade preserves.
• 
  
  A woodstove in the morning and fresh coffee.
• 
  
  A sunrise walk in the woods.
• 
  
  Stories and pictures of childhood.
• 
  
  A whole day without a lick of makeup.
• 
  
  Watching Patch Adams.
• 
  
  Helping with chores.
• 
  
  Salty air from the ocean.
• 
  
  Leaving with my arms full.
• 
  
  Leaving with my heart full.

homesick today

Move to Maine with me

you will love it i swear

you'll fall in love with the smell

of the thick salty air.

You'll be so inspired

by it's grandeur and charms.

We'll etch poems about it

in the salt on our arms.

We can eat only seafood

fresh caught from the sea

and lie on the rocks

and wax philosophy.

The breeze will enchant us

and calm us each day,

while tides start us anew

and wash all sins away.