Bargain

Best I've ever had, ever could have, ever will have. #bestever

This weekend we made the long trek up to our favorite Midwestern spot: Copper Harbor, in the U.P.

It wasn't a perfect weekend for it, by any means: I've been processing traumatic memories (most likely thanks to my mother's birthday on Friday) which means not much sleep and lots of tears, I have a cold, we couldn't get Friday or Monday off work, the forecast was chilly one day and rainy the next...

But it was our last opportunity to get up there this Fall, so we took it. And though it wasn't easy in a lot of ways, it was, as it always is, glorious: the mountain biking, Lake Superior, Brickside Brewery, ahhhh...

And don't forget lots of car time with my man, whether it be driving or sleeping (as we did the second night when it wasn't just cold but pouring rain). That's always a treat.

Especially with a sound track like this:

I'd gladly lose me to find you
I'd gladly give up all I had
To find you I'd suffer anything and be glad

I'd pay any price just to get you
I'd work all my life and I will
To win you I'd stand naked, stoned and stabbed

I'd call that a bargain
The best I ever had
The best I ever had

I'd gladly lose me to find you
I'd gladly give up all I got
To catch you I'm gonna run and never stop

I'd pay any price just to win you
Surrender my good life for bad
To find you I'm gonna drown an unsung man

I'd call that a bargain
The best I ever had
The best I ever had

I sit looking 'round
I look at my face in the mirror
I know I'm worth nothing without you
In life one and one don't make two
One and one make one
And I'm looking for that free ride to me
I'm looking for you

I'd gladly lose me to find you
I'd gladly give up all I got
To catch you I'm gonna run and never stop

I'd pay any price just to win you
Surrender my good life for bad
To find you I'm gonna drown an unsung man

I'd call that a bargain
The best I ever had
The best I ever had

Yes he is!

Hold the Line

The sunset soon after we arrived at Leelanau State Park

My man and I are so pumped about this mini vacation to the Traverse City area on Michigan's lower peninsula!

We love a good road trip, and this one sure hasn't disappointed.

Not to mention the mountain biking we found today -- wow! 18 miles of gorgeous, flowy woods that we had almost entirely to ourselves. It was an incredible ride.

I was so tired afterward that I was tempted to sleep at the trail head after our picnic dinner, but my boyfriend had enough left in his tank to drive the additional 1.5 hours to our beautiful campsite on Lake Michigan.

And the next morning under the bright sky!

Cranking good tunes always helps the miles tick by faster -- and we are both feeling that this Toto song tells a little bit of our story, seeing as it took a few years for us to get to where we are now:

It's not in the way that you hold me
It's not in the way you say you care
It's not in the way you've been treating my friends
It's not in the way that you'll stay till the end
It's not in the way you look or the things that you say that you do

Hold the line
Love isn't always on time
Whoa oh oh
Hold the line
Love isn't always on time
Whoa oh oh

It's not in the words that you told me
It's not in the way you say you're mine
It's not in the way that you came back to me
It's not in the way that your love set me free
It's not in the way you look or the things that you say that you do

Hold the line
Love isn't always on time
Whoa oh oh
Hold the line
Love isn't always on time
Whoa oh oh

Nope, it isn't. Or it doesn't always feel like it is. But when it comes, when it fully arrives, ooooohhhh baby, it is worth every second of waiting, every moment of heartbreak, every tear -- it's so freakin' awesome!

Eternal Flame

I just wanna stay right here in this tent forever and ever

I'm having a really hard time adjusting to being back from the most magical camping adventure ever.

I've never had an easy time with transitions, or moderation, for that matter, and coming home is requiring me to deal with both. Wah.

I remember hearing this song when I was growing up, but at that point I hadn't felt it like I'm feeling it now:

Close your eyes, give me your hand, darlin'
Do you feel my heart beating
Do you understand
Do you feel the same
Am I only dreaming
Is this burning an eternal flame

Nope, you're not dreaming.

Yep, this is burning an eternal flame.

I believe it's meant to be, darlin'
I watch you when you are sleeping
You belong with me
Do you feel the same
Am I only dreaming
Or is this burning an eternal flame

Say my name
Sun shines through the rain
A whole life so lonely
And then come and ease the pain
I don't want to lose this feeling, oh

I do so love it when he says my name. Both names. All the names. Sarah. Archie. Babe. Any of the many terms of endearment he uses for me:

Say my name
Sun shines through the rain
A whole life so lonely
And then come and ease the pain
I don't want to lose this feeling, oh

I sure don't. And I won't, lose it that is. But I do have to share myself and him with the rest of the world:

Close your eyes, give me your hand
Do you feel my heart beating
Do you understand
Do you feel the same
Am I only dreaming
Or is this burning an eternal flame

Uh-huh. And a smokin' hot eternal flame at that!

Live Like You Were Dyin'

 A fire's not quite the same in the driveway!

Ever since my trip to Copper Harbor, I've been daydreaming about waking up in the tent with my little birds. When I saw that the weather was supposed to be beautiful this weekend, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to go camping.

I was wrong. My son didn't feel comfortable leaving our sick guinea pig at home alone, even for 24 hours. So we compromised: stay home tonight, leave in the morning for the state park where we were going to camp and at least spend the super warm October day out in nature.

My daughter and I went to the hardware store and purchased a fire pit so that she could cook her hot dogs and the kids could eat s'mores. Not having a s'more -- because it is day 19 of the Whole 30 for me -- sucked. But I managed.

My daughter and I have also spent a lot of the day -- actually a lot of the last three days -- laughing together, which has felt pretty awesome.

I've had this song in my head for DAYS, and while our adventures were curtailed this weekend, it does feel like we are embracing life the best way we know how:

He said I was in my early 40's
With a lot of life before me
And a moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days, lookin' at the x-rays
Talkin' 'bout the options and talkin' 'bout sweet time
Asked him when it sank in, that this might really be the real end
How's it hit ya, when you get that kind of news
Man what ya do
And he says

I went sky divin'
I went rocky mountain climbin'
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull name Fumanchu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I've been denying
And he said someday I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin'

Like tomorrow was a gift and you've got eternity
To think about what you do with it,
What could you do with it, what can
I do with with it, what would I do with it.

Tomorrow is most definitely a gift, as was today...

One More Night

Soaking up the summer sun on the rocky shore

Spent the day riding again today, but decided to forego the trip to the brewery that turned into a big nap yesterday. Instead I decided to shower and head for Lake Superior.

It never disappoints! There's something about this rocky shoreline that is so grounding, and I could use a little of that right about now.

The beautiful view in the other direction

The weather has been extraordinarily beautiful, the riding fantastic, the sleep restorative, but there is no getting away from the fact that I'm alone up here.

Yesterday at my campsite, a man with young kids asked if I was solo and I said yes, to which he replied that his wife had been watching me and didn't think she'd ever do it by herself.

I felt like saying:

"Well dude, if you had asked me if I'd be here alone when my kids were that age, I would have told you that you were crazy, but here I am."

But I didn't, of course.

He said he thought I had it figured out -- both because he envied my alone time and of course men are much more comfortable than women with solo adventures. I get that.

He also said: "You could be doing this" pointing to his kids. I assured him that I have done that, and that my kids would have liked to have come (and I would have liked to have them), but they were older and had activities and school back at home.

There are some pretty great things about being solo -- lots of time to think -- getting to do what you want when you want -- but one of the things I've affirmed on this trip is that for me, I'd rather share this with someone. And since I'm no longer able to share it with the person I used to share it with, I resolved to make more of an effort to meet people for whom this weekend is their idea of a good time. They exist, I know they do, I just don't really know them (with one exception, and she was unable to join me).

Turns out this is the very last night that the East Campground at Fort Wilkins State Park is open, making this rather insipid Maroon 5 tune, which came to me as my neighbors on the campground were discussing having to pack up and leave in the morning:

You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war.
You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the door.
You and I get so damn dysfunctional, we stopped keeping score.
You and I get sick, yeah, I know that we can't do this no more.

Yeah, but baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you.
Yeah, I stopped using my head, using my head, let it all go.
Got you stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo.
And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid, crawling back to you.

So I cross my heart and I hope to die
That I'll only stay with you one more night
And I know I said it a million times
But I'll only stay with you one more night

And the song, when it came, reminded me as a number of things have on this trip, that all was not sunshine and daisies when I was with the New Englander, even in beautiful places like this.

There was always a part of me that wished he'd share more of himself with me, or think about us as a unit, but he truly functioned like a solo entity that sometimes had an add-on (or three). This was driven home to me in a comment he made on the way home from here the very last time we were up here together.

He was leaving soon (for New England), and we were talking about the fact that we hadn't been to Marquette yet (another town in the U.P. with great mountain biking), and I mentioned a weekend that I could go. I will never forget what he said in response: "Oh no, I wouldn't be going for comfort."

Meaning that he hadn't been thinking I'd be with him at all, if he did go, and that I didn't really enter the picture for him when he thought about going. My heart sank. That was such a pivotal moment for me. It really made me realize he didn't want to share his life with me, or maybe with anyone, I don't know.

But it's good for me to remember that, because I am also remembering so many delicious things about our relationship while I'm up here:

Try to tell you "no" but my body keeps on telling you "yes".
Try to tell you "stop", but your lipstick got me so out of breath.
I'll be waking up in the morning, probably hating myself.
And I'll be waking up, feeling satisfied but guilty as hell.

Yeah, but baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you.
(Making me love you)
Yeah, I stopped using my head, using my head, let it all go.
(I let it all go)
Got you stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo.
(Like a tattoo, yeah)
And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid, crawling back to you.

And I also feel grateful, that since he really had no intention of truly partnering with me, that he did leave. Because god knows it was nearly impossible for me to stay away from him when he was nearby -- my physical body just wouldn't have it:

So I cross my heart and I hope to die
(Yeah)
That I'll only stay with you one more night
(Oh)
And I know I said it a million times
(Yeah)
But I'll only stay with you one more night
(Yeah)

Yeah, baby, give me one more night
Yeah, baby, give me one more night (whoa, yeah)
Yeah, baby, give me one more night (oh, yeah, yeah)

Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise

This week I learned that my first boyfriend recently had a grand mal seizure, and when he went to the hospital they found and successfully removed a brain tumor, which was cancerous.

I was 18 when we broke up, and haven't heard much from him since, but the news still hit me pretty hard. It was one of those people are mortal, even my people, and they won't all always be okay kind of realizations that aren't that fun to have.

Speaking of not fun, this morning I ran into a friend's ex-boyfriend at my favorite coffee shop. He's super sad about their breakup, and always wants to talk about it when I see him because I'm the only person that knows them both. And I feel for him - oh man, do I feel for him. He's in the why does something so senseless have to happen to me phase, and I remember that phase very well.

Luckily, as I told him, I'm on the other side of it now, and I was able to share the lessons I learned by going through that crazy painful process of grieving my lover once removed:

1) Don't try to figure out why, or ask yourself what you could or should have done differently. You did the best you could and you can't expect more from yourself than that. Plus, even if you could figure out why, it wouldn't make it hurt any less.

2) If it seems senseless, it may just be senseless. Senseless things happen in this life every day. People sometimes have to bury their children. Accidents disfigure people forever. Loves that we felt were oh-so-right sometimes don't work out. We don't get to make sense of these things. We just have to learn to live in the new reality.

3) Trust that this loss is happening to you for a reason, that there is something to be gained for YOU here. I gained SO much from my own grieving process. I know that I'm way more capable than I was before that loss of being the kind of partner that I want to be to the man I love.

4) Believe in a world where if you lose a great love, they either eventually come back when you're both in different, better places or you fall in love with someone else and it's just as great a love as the one you lost. Those are the only two outcomes in my Universe, anyway. You know what the Universe says: Thoughts become things. Choose the good ones!

Heard this song in the car today, and it struck just the right chord for a girl who found out an old friend has cancer, is helping another friend through a breakup, and is gearing up for a beautiful weekend on Lake Superior:

There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it

When nothing is owed or deserved or expected
And your life doesn't change by the man that's elected
If you're loved by someone, you're never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it

There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I'll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out

There's a darkness upon you that's flooded in light
And in the fine print they tell you what's wrong and what's right
And it flies by day and it flies by night
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it

And the best news of all is that my special super bright bike light came today -- so when the darkness comes upon me in Copper Harbor, it will be flooded in light -- road full of promise indeed!

Love Me Two Times

I heard this song on the radio on the way to yoga today:

Love me two times, baby
Love me twice today
Love me two times, girl
I'm goin' away
Love me two times, girl
One for tomorrow
One just for today
Love me two times
I'm goin' away

And it prompted lots of thoughts and feelings, among them:

1) I am indeed goin' away soon. I'm going up to Copper Harbor to camp and enjoy some really excellent mountain biking. I love it up there. It's so beautiful. I'm excited. It's just that every time I even think about actually going up there without the New Englander, I start crying.

Well, I told myself as Jim Morrison crooned away in the background, maybe this is just the next layer of the grieving process. Last year I wanted to go, but I couldn't bring myself to do it in the end. This year, despite all the tears, it feels like I'm really going to make the trek.

Love me one time
I could not speak
Love me one time
Yeah, my knees got weak
But love me two times, girl
Last me all through the week
Love me two times
I'm goin' away
Love me two times
I'm goin' away

2) Now that I'm not with the man who loved me two times and then some, I pondered whether I should try to rustle up some other male accompaniment to make the journey with me. You know, someone else to love me two times. As I recall, I pondered the same thing last year. It seemed like it would be easier to face the loss if I had someone else on whom to focus.

I'm sure it would be easier. And if said adventuresome man had walked (or ridden) into my life by now, I'm sure he'd be accompanying me on this trip. But he hasn't. And I'm not about to go hunting for someone for the purpose of making a loss easier to bear. That's not how I roll.

So I'm going to be brave. I'm going to do it alone. I've never camped alone before, so it feels a little daunting, but I have a feeling that going through with this under present circumstances will be good for me. More growing and all that:

Oh, yes

Love me two times, babe
Love me twice today
Love me two times, babe
'Cause I'm goin' away
Love me two time, girl
One for tomorrow
One just for today
Love me two times
I'm goin' away
Love me two times
I'm goin' away
Love me two times
I'm goin' away

Three Little Birds

Three little birds inside their happy little tent

With Memorial Day weekend upon us and no trip to the cabin in our plans, we decided to camp for a night at Governor Dodge State Park and then go from there to my son's noon soccer game -- also in Dodgeville.

Because we hatched our plan late in the game, the only campsites available were Horse Camp -- which I dinged because I thought it might be noisy and smelly -- and a group site. The group site was $25 more than a regular site, but as it turned out, it was worth every penny. We had a huge wooded space to ourselves. No listening to other people partying or snoring while we were trying to sleep -- just the three of us in our tent.

Our huge, awesome campsite

Before we left town yesterday, my daughter had a music program at her school. Her Dad and I were so happy to see how actively she participated -- we haven't seen her sing so freely since preschool. This was one of the songs she sang, and given our idyllic surroundings, and the variety of birdcalls we got to hear from our tent this morning, this song seems perfect to mark this day:

Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!

Can't see a lot of it here but the sky was gorgeous!

Rise up this mornin',
Smile with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Each by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', "This is my message to you-ou-ou: "

Don't get me wrong. There were things to worry about. I suppose there always are. For one thing, my daughter wasn't feeling well on the drive last night and consequently wasn't feeling like camping was a good idea. I had to keep the faith for both of us that it would all work out.

Yeah, it was touch and go for a while, but there was a moment -- after we'd finished our delicious breakfast sandwiches and crawled back in the tent to relax under the bright blue sky -- when my daughter remarked about how much she loved the feeling of relaxing in the tent. We all concurred. And in that moment, every little thing was all right...