Last week was a week.

Like, a weeeeeek.

And I started to write to you guys about all the things that had made it a week, but that process made me feel kind of like this:

And that didn’t feel so great.  Because I don’t want to bring you guys down too, y’know?  So, instead, here are the positive sides of the things that COULD have totally made last week a week.

I did NOT forget my coffee at the drive through window: I DID forget to pay at the first window, but it was TOTALLY FINE because the guy at THAT window yelled REALLY LOUDLY after me.  For some reason, it made me feel old.  No worries though, after the yelling (LAAAADY!  LADY!  YOU NEED TO PAY!)  I was able to reverse.  And make all of the other cars reverse – until they couldn’t do that anymore, because there were too many of them, but again – NO BIG DEAL because I just popped out of my car, and walked back over to the window.

And all of the other people in their cars were super, super patient.  No one even beeped their horn at me.

For real though you guys.  I’m not even being sarcastic.

No for real.

I fell in love with one of my neighbors: I work from home.  Did I tell you guys this already?  It’s mostly amazing, but the notsoamazing parts of it are that there’s no requirement to get dressed.  Like, ever.  Or shower. Which again, is not the worst.  Mostly.  Because people stop by sometimes, and for some reason it hasn’t clicked for me that hiding under the window because I’m wearing leggings with holes in them and haven’t washed my hair for 48 hours is no way to live.  And when Anna dragged the neighbor-lady down to meet me Friday night, I was still working.  And still unshowered.  So Anna was like “SOANDSO IS HERE TO MEET YOU” and I was like “I CAN’T COME OUT RIGHT NOW I’M WORKING, JUST TELL HER I’M ON A CALL” because I’ve never met her you guys!  And I wanted her to meet showered-Erin.  But instead of telling her that I was working, Anna said:

“Oh, my Mom doesn’t really feel like coming out right now.  She’ll come meet you later.”

Which I’m sure, made her think I looked something like this:

And let’s be honest, I kind of did.

It was fine, though, because I made her apology corn bread and walked it down yesterday, so she would know that I do actually leave the house.  And told her when she came over I was unshowered and wearing leggings with holes in them.  And we talked for long enough that I forgot how long it was – in a really good way.  And she had that aura about her, the one that makes you feel completely at ease immediately?  And everything she said was like – TOTALLY.  Y’know?  It was like YES.  I fell in love with her.

And even though – even with the positive, it was a WEEK, the weekend reminded me of all of the things I love about where I’m sitting right now, writing you from.  Because I drove to Massachusetts, to our old neighborhood.  And I drove to New Hampshire.  And at the end of both drives, when I crossed the border into Maine, I felt safe again.  Because I started my day here, on top of a mountain:

And I ended it here, after a 3 mile run along the coastline:

And both of those things happened within 10 minutes of my front door.  And that is like TOTALLY, y’know?  It’s like YES.

So.  If you forget the first window, no worries, someone will notify you.  Loudly.  And you can hit reverse and pop out of the car.  If you forget to wash your hair, no worries, your neighbor will not judge you, especially if you’re honest with her when you bring her apology corn bread.

And if you need a respite, put away the bathtub gin and come over.  Because Maine is like TOTALLY.  It’s like YES.

Hey guys.

Happy almosttheweekend.

In my songs-on-repeat-100-times extravaganza, I have been obsessively listening to this song.

100 times.

It’s making me really happy.  You should just keep it going while you read this post, because I bet it’ll make you happy too. Like it’s summertime and we’re outside in my backyard.  I’ve hung up white Christmas lights around the very old wooden fence and in the large tree, so even though it’s dark outside, we can see each other, between that and the half-melted candles around the table.  Bar lighting.  We’re just finishing dinner I made for you, and it was so good!  Some sort of grilled chicken I think – even though I’m a vegetarian.  We ate outside on an old picnic table that my dad refinished for me (heads up Dad), and the fire is going nearby in the fire pit.  It’s low tide and we’re just barely close enough to the ocean to smell it, on the occasional warm breeze.  Anna’s gone off to play with the neighbor-kids, and we can hear them laughing, screaming and running a few houses down.  This song comes on, and as the beat picks up, we decide to leave all of the dirty dishes, pour more wine and dance.

*Sigh*.

In reality, there’s a wintry chill outside and it’s raining, and that sort of feels like weather to sleep to instead of dance to.

Also in reality, I’m sort of in survival mode right now, which means a few things, other than songs on repeat and fantasizing about what the summer in Kittery will bring.  Other happenings from the front lines of heart-hurt:

Sarah Koenig has become my one-sided rebound relationship: It started as an addiction to the show itself, of course – Serial.  Did Adnan Syed do it?  I don’t know.  Has Bowe Bergdahl paid the price already?  Honestly, I don’t even care, as long as Sarah will keep talking to me about it.  I wasn’t able to sleep for a few weeks, and have been trying everything: Meditation.  Advil PM.  Whiskey.  Running.  Okay, I’m lying about that last one, but I THOUGHT about how it might help.  Regardless, Sarah has been my only savior. I have been plugging in my phone, absorbing myself in the even tone of her stories, and passing out.  Yes, I’ve been waking up hours later to the silence of the podcast being over, still not managing to make it to the end of Episode 5, ‘Meanwhile, Back in Tampa’, but it’s okay.  Because I don’t really want it to end.  So I hit play again, tuck  myself in, and fall back asleep.

I’ve committed to eating everything in my house before I shop again: I don’t know why.  I looked at the cupboard one day and realized we had managed to purchase, or acquire, like 10 different boxes of cracker-like-pretzel things.  And who NEEDS that?  We don’t.  It felt so wasteful and processed and it stressed me out.  It was like, everything that is wrong with the world, right in my cupboard.  So I decided we’d eat it all and then once all the food was gone, go shopping again – locally, of course.

For produce only.

With reuseable bags.

On my bike.

Until I can get the garden going?

What this means is that my options for dinner tonight are frozen quinoa, beans, some beef broth, apples or marshmallows that are all stuck together in a bag.  Or wait – brown rice.  Or some sour cream?  Maybe I can put those things together.

Shockingly, Anna has been stomping around the house for the last 24 hours noting she will STARVE with only WATER and SOME APPLES to eat and drink!

(I won’t let her eat the bag of marshmallows.  But why haven’t I thrown it away?  I don’t know.  I’ll go do that now.)

I’ve overposted on Facebook and Instagram and written 10,000 blog posts.  I know you guys, totally pathetic.  I’m all – look at my cat!  I’ve updated my profile picture!  I’m running a race!  Wait, my cat again!  I’m one post short of a picture of my sour cream and beef broth dinner.  I wonder what people did when there wasn’t even email?  Because at least before Facebook and Instagram, you could hit ‘get mail’ a bunch of times.  And that was satisfying for sure.  I mean, I likely did that 10 times before I wrote to you guys.  Maybe people just stared at the phones hooked into the wall and called the operator to see if it was working?  That seems like something that would bring me endless joy in the absence of wi-fi.  What I am saving you from is the 9,999 other blog posts I’ve written over the last few weeks.

You’re welcome.

I decided to have a party:  The last time I decided to have a party – a large one, anyway, was this time.  This time of year, hurting a little bit, and wanting to plan something where a ton of people I love would be in a room with a ton of other people I love so they would all fall in love with each other.  I’m going to be 38 this year, and I had some fleeting fantasies about having a 3rd anniversary of my last party – my 35th birthday party (because that has a better ring to it, doesn’t it?  A third anniversary of 35?), but there’s so much stuff happening this summer (isn’t there always?) that I didn’t think I could make it happen.

But I’m rethinking that, in this moment.

And no worries, as mentioned in the previous paragraph, once I figure out the details, I’ll totally keep you posted.

Hey guys.  Happy Oscars.

How was your weekend?

Ours, was a weekend of discoveries.

A recap, of course, here:

I discovered Bikram yoga: Have you guys done this before?  What it is, in short: a specified number of yoga poses (somewhere near 30 I think?) that you repeat for about 90 minutes in a room that feels like it’s about 190 degrees.  My friends have gone, and been all “I lost 20 pounds with Bikram” and “Bikram changed my life” and “Bikram made me a better person”, so I thought I’d try.

And y’know what’s super fucking hard?

Bikram yoga, you guys.  Bikram yoga is SUPER. FUCKING. HARD.  And if your friends tell you all of those things, and don’t tell you that it’s super fucking hard, they are super fucking liars.  Because it is.  So the entire time – in my head, I was thinking “Youneverhavetodothisagain” overandoverandover again.  And thinking of running.  And thinking of what people would do if I ran?  Like – if I just walked out, pretending I ran out of water, but then kept on walking?

But I didn’t.

Even though I really, really wanted to.

And at the end, the instructor said, “You did it Erin!” and the whole class turned to me and clapped.  And I thought oh, fuck.  Because of course that was all I needed – that small little boost of support – to decide that I’d do it again.

Sigh.

Anna discovered my wine stopper: Anna got up early on Saturday – like, crazy early, and although I was up, I didn’t want her to be up, so I sent her back to bed.  But it was coldish.  And I bought a heated mattress pad this winter, so my bed is warmish.  So I sent her back to my bed.  And after about 10 minutes of listening to her rustle around in there, I finally went back in and accepted defeat, and told her she could get up.  And she pulled her hand out from under my pillow, and held something up, and said, “What is this Mama, is it a wine stopper?”

And I said, “Ummmm, yah.  That’s a wine stopper.”

But you guys.

It wasn’t a wine stopper.  

It WASN’T.  A. WINE. STOPPER.

We discovered Fort Foster: We’d discovered it before, of course – having been up here random weekends to meet my sister and family – but this morning, we met up with a friend (and her dog) and grabbed coffee at the local coffee shop (better described as: the coffee shop that serves the most heavenly baked goods on earth) and drove out to the gate.  Although it’s technically closed for the off-season – we weren’t the only ones there, it was flooded with other Kitterians and their hounds, since the weather was so lovely.  And we walked forever, while Anna collected seashells, and my friend and I caught up, and when we found a place to park for a minute, ran into a couple I’d just seen at Lil’s.  And because it’s Kittery, when I asked if they’d just been there – that led to a conversation that lasted 15 mintues.  They’d moved up here from Newton 10 years ago – and like me, two months in, wondered why everyone in the northeast wasn’t here already.  Because this was where we stood, for our Sunday morning conversation:

And I don’t think there could be anything better than good coffee, good company, and new friends, here.  Really.

Between that, and my parents, sister, brothernlaw and nephew coming over for dinner tonight, I thought again – for what seems like the millionth time in two months, how happy I am that we’re here.  How no place since she was born – no place since I left my own hometown, has felt this good, this warm, this home.  How it seems like I’ve been looking for this for so, so long – in a way that I didn’t even know I had been.

So.

If you want to discover how strong you are, mentally and physically (because you are) go to Bikram yoga.  If you want to avoid figuring out to avoid talking through how a wine stopper would end up in your bed, DON’T LEAVE A WINE STOPPER IN YOUR BED.

And if things are as awful as you thought they could be, and you’ve dropped to the floor in the midst of chaos, just wait.  Because three months later, you could be home.

Hey guys.  How’s it going out there?

Here, it’s been a little crazy.

Like – I stopped buying liquor at the Rite Aid.

I didn’t, really – but I’ve received some feedback from avid fans (read: my friend Autumn) that I’m talking too much about my fascination with the drugstoreliquor stuff so I should put a stop to it.  (Just last night though: red wine, antibiotics, pharmacy counter.  You just can’t beat it.)  Really, I need to stop being on antibiotics because then the thrill of the purchase will be gone – because that’s what it is, you guys – it’s not just that you can buy it, it’s that it feels somewhat rebellious to be holding the label that clearly states you must not have alcohol while on the drugs, while holding the alcohol – the eye contact we make, the pharmacist and me – she, wondering if I’m going to drink it, me, wondering if she’s wondering if I’m going to drink it – it’s just too good.  Like buying condoms as a teenager, maybe?

Me, writing about it later and thinking I really need to find better outlets for my need for acts of rebellion. 

Here’s the real (vacation) week in review:

We took care of ourselves: Anna went to my folks last weekend to kick off vacation, and I stayed here.  She shopped and watched and got love from my parents.  I ran and slept and read and slept some more.  Drank good coffee, wine and had good food, and good love.  Stayed inside – because our new space is soooo cozy.  I checked my oil, and organized my closet and shopped too long at stores and went to see a movie.

We Western Massed: Anna returned from the land of yes midweek, and we went to Western Massachusetts to stay with friends and ski.  I never liked skiing, but did it anyway, being a northern NH girl – but when we walked into the lodge and got in line for rentals, all that little girl stuff came rooting back up and I thought, “I will never, ever ski again.”  But then she loved it, which I love so much, so I’m reconsidering my silent promise.  Beyond the skiing – Western Massachusetts is just so. lovely.  Peaceful and slow and creative and warm and organic and fair trade and solar everything, all set to the backdrop of a river and a train track – and all of that, this time – with the company of people both of us love so much.

With really good coffee.

We said goodbye: When we got home from Western MA they were fine – but this morning Ocean seemed a little lethargic – and that turned into morethanlethargic, and maybe on his last leg – so in the midst of Anna on the floor in tears, I called the emergency vet, and we hauled him in.  When the vet saw him in Anna’s hands, she quickly took him and said he needed to put under oxygen.  When she came back, leaving him in the care of the techs, we talked through the possibilities of what might have happened – but before we managed too much conversation, the tech came back, opening the door – looking at me, then the doctor, and then me again, and slowly shaking her head.  As if she’d been stabbed, Anna dropped to the ground in sobs, while the vet talked to me about the need for an autopsy.

Because she suspected foul play.

Just kidding.

She did want to rule out anything that could affect Lemon, though – and while I agreed out loud that it was important to understand what happened, it was the same as when I agreed out loud that giving the birds anesthesia so we could determine if they were male or female was important.  As in, not at all agreed.  Although she offered cremation, we declined and decided to take Ocean home with us.  While I dug in the backyard, Anna went to check on Lemon, who seemed to be in the same state of decline – and soon after, he passed away too.

And my little animal-lover has spent the day torturing herself for losing her birds, all wrapped up on the couch now watching a movie and occasionally talking about the emptiness of the house and how things will never be the same.  

And while there have been moments in the midst of the passing – (like when they said ‘oxygen’ and ‘autopsy’) that I had to hide my immediate reaction, I do think we’re learning big stuff today.  It gave us an opportunity to talk about how different people cope with losing ones they love, to figure out how we’re going to cope together (or in reality, how I’m going to cope with the amount of coping that needs to happen), what happens and where the birds are now, and to give each other some love.

So.

If you want to take care of yourself, send your children to your parents house (or mine?) and stay home, read and sleep and eat and sleep some more.  If you want all the same things with the added bonus of a low-key mountain to ski on surrounded by open, warm local-folks, go to Berkshire East by way of Shelburne Falls.  And if you find yourself losing someone you love, come over.  We have sage, good comfort food, wine, and lots of love.

RIP, Lemon and Ocean.  You were loved.

Just kidding.

But I THOUGHT a lot about it this weekend, because I got the worst hair cut ever to be gotten.  I didn’t document it, I don’t know why – it was just all so tragic.  But it looked a little bit like this:

Only not as good as that.

NOT.

AS.

GOOD.

For real, you guys.  I know it can sometime sound as thought I’m exaggerating, or being overly dramatic, but I am not doing either of those things.  I’d been hacked.  Like with a machete.  When she said this, I should have bailed:

 “Well, let me just shape it a bit.  Y’know, give you an update?”

I was paralyzed in fear once she did it – because I thought it would be bad, but y’know how they’re tricky with their scissors, and you don’t always totally understand what they’re doing?

But then she turned the chair around, and I felt my stomach drop and a little like I was going to throw up.  I know, it’s just hair you guys.  But let me remind you guys, it was NOT AS GOOD AS THIS:

So I put an elastic in it.

And I tried to keep that just-hair thought in my mind when I was driving home, like, maybe I was being overly dramatic.  And maybe it wasn’t that bad?  And then one of my friends showed up, and I opened the door, and took the elastic out of my hair, and she said:

It’s really bad Erin.  

So I called Troupe Studio in Portsmouth, because they had good reviews.  And when someone answered the phone, I said:

Listen.  I know you probably don’t have any openings.  I know it’s Saturday.  But I got a bad haircut.  I look like an 80’s suburban mom.  I can’t leave the house.  Even if you don’t have time to cut it, even if you just LOOK at it, and like – give me hope?  I would be so, so grateful.  Please.  It’s so, so bad.  

Please.

And the man said:

How soon can you get here?

And when I said 8 minutes – he said he couldn’t promise anything, that he would do his best, but he might not be able to cut it, because he was leaving for an appointment.  And what I found out later, is that he hung up the phone, and alerted his next appointment he would be late.

Because it was a hair 911.

And when I walked in, and looked at him, and took the elastic out of my hair, he said:

It’s really bad Erin.

Just kidding.

Ever the professional, he focused on what he could do to help, rather than digging for what salon I’d come from or focusing on how bad my hair cut was.  He told me we’d have to go short, shorter than I’d hoped, but that he could help get it to what I wanted.  And y’know what?

He totally, totally did.

I am not completely happy because I wanted long hair, and now I am left with short, but it is not tragic – in fact, it’s really cute.  And if you’d seen it, you guys – you would get the miracle that is now my hair cut.

So.  If you’re going to get your hair cut, call someone you know.  If you can’t manage that, call someone you know in the area to give you a recommendation.  And if all of that fails, and the chair turns around, and your stomach drops, and you feel like you’re going to throw up, call John Tilton at Troupe, and let him know it’s a hair 911.

Hey guys.

Can I tell you something?

I love Maine.

Because this:

And later, this: 

And then after dinner, this:

Which happened around this:

That all of that can happen – without months of planning, just because, is just so.  good.  y’know?  Maybe some of you are used to being able to have Sunday dinner with family, but I’m not, and it was so, so amazing.

In other weekend news: 

We got the parakeets wings clipped.  Because OF COURSE WE DID.  

Also, I met my new savior neighbor (You will always be the original, Megan.)  And lured her in for wine and take out food, while her kids went back and forth from the upstairs to the downstairs, either trailing Anna or having Anna trail them.  And she gave me the highlights of the neighborhood, which I feel as though you guys are dying to know.

1)  Be nice to skunks, or not: When she and her husband put in a garden – they realized that something was eating it.  So they put up one of those we’re-nice-to-animals spray water things, which basically just gently reminds the animals that getting wet is not fun?  So maybe you shouldn’t eat our stuff?  But really is just a little sprinkler for the hot summer months for the animals.  So they stepped it up and get one of those we’re-nice-to-animals traps that don’t do anything but trap them.  And caught themselves a skunk.  So they called animal control, and a guy came out, and said:

Yah.  Looks like you got yourself a skunk.

And when they asked him what they should do with it?  He said:

Seems to me you have two options.  Either let him go, and bet he’ll come back, or drown him in the river down the street.  

……….

2) Watch out for chickens crossing the street: Apparently, lots of folks around here have chickens.  (You guys know as well as I do, we are totally going to join that pack soon-ish) So a guy was moving out of the neighborhood and couldn’t bring his chickens, so he sold them to another woman down the street.  One chicken, however, just really didn’t handle the three-doors-down move well, so she kept wandering back to the original homestead, to the point that she went missing.  No worries though, her new owner posted a “MISSING: CHICKEN” photo on Facebook.  Because she – although a new owner – had already managed to take a photo of the chicken in question.  A selfie.  Of her and the chicken.  Her and the now missing chicken.  She had already managed a selfie of her and the now missing chicken.

3) Reminder: the Rite Aid sells liquor: I won’t ever get over it you guys.  I had something going on that required antibiotics, and also had the family coming over for dinner, AND – the Rite Aid is .8 miles from my house you guys!  So I walked up to the pharmacy pick-up window with a bottle of red, and asked for the pick up for Laplante.  And when the pharmacist looked up at me, I said, “For real –  this is cool, right?”

And it totally, totally was.

So.  Come to Main you guys!  

Because you can buy chickens!  (But only if they are not used to the neighborhood.)  AND – you can grow a garden!  (But only if you’re ready to drown the animals that eat your veggies.)  And if all of that gets to be too much, or the transition is tough on your body (like it has been mine) NO WORRIES!

You can grab a bottle of red with your antibiotics.