a cabin in the woods

A. and I talk all the time about how my dream house is in Maine. It sits on a cliff overlooking the ocean with bay windows and high ceilings so light can fill the rooms. There are dense woods in the backyard. The house has a furnished attic with a simple desk and a windowsill bench with lots of pillows — private, and a perfect place to write. It truly is a dream — I’ve never been to Maine. I concocted the house while reading some kids’ novel. I have no idea which one, but it doesn’t matter.

This weekend, A. and I met up with friends in Spruce Knob, West Virginia, for a climbing trip. Our friends found a two-bedroom cabin for seven us (plus two babies). And when A. and I arrived on Friday evening, the place took my breath away. It was nestled in the woods with high ceilings, wood beams and a bay window overlooking a deck and a fire pit.

S. and J. were sitting in the dimly-lit dining room, quietly putting together a 1,000-piece puzzle — something else I used to love to do as a kid. After I put C. down for the night, A. and I jumped in and the four of us drank red wine, ate my homemade chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies and worked different sections of the puzzle.

We finished it the next morning (and then I started on another). Other friends arrived, and some went climbing. I met them at the crag later in the afternoon with C., and got one climb in.

That evening, we sat around a fire roasting marshmallows while J. played Ryan Adams and the Beatles on the guitar. And I felt relaxed and happy.

Maybe someday A. and I will be able to build a house somewhere in the woods. I doubt will have enough money, but a girl can dream.

fleeing irene leads to a revelation: i miss climbing outside

Last weekend, A. and I planned on dipping our toes in the hot summer sand at the beach since the summer has been so hectic and we haven’t had any beach time and I looove beach time. But, as everyone knows, mean Hurricane Irene was staring down the east coast like a school-yard bully, so instead we ran in the other direction.

We got in the car on Saturday morning about 10 a.m. A. kindly asked me not to look at a map — he wanted to drive and see where we ended up. We listened to Car Talk and Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me! as we drove west under the gray skies.

When we hit Winchester, Va., we stopped in an independent coffee shop in the town’s historic strip and got a chai and egg sandwich on thick homemade multi-grain bread. And then we continued on toward West Virginia, where the skies turned blue with a few clouds dotting the sky. We passed a wind farm and then after a few wrong turns, we found a short hike in Canaan Valley.

the new river gorge

Last weekend, A. and I drove out to the New River Gorge in West Virginia for our last climbing trip before A. jetted off. We stayed in a cabin with seven other people — a glorious 3-bedroom cabin with a hot tub, fireplace and big porch. A. and I arrived late Friday evening to homemade chicken enchiladas and J., T., and M. playing their guitars and singing everything from the Beatles to Belle and Sebastian.

We got up early Saturday to sizzling bacon and pancakes and warm coffee and then we hit the rocks — big, tall walls along a wide river. It was in the 60s. In late November. We stayed all day till our bodies were shot and hiked out just as a full moon was rising.

Later that evening, after the group gorged on pizzas, I could feel my eyes welling up as I sat in a kitchen chair next to A. The trigger was thinking about how I only had two more nights to sleep by his side for what seemed like so, so long. I was awash with sadness.

A. probed my eyes and asked if I wanted to talk — and yes, of course I did. We ignored the jokes that we were slipping away to make out, and I cried in his arms, soaking his tee-shirt. I cried it all out — all of my fears about him leaving — the experience changing him, him not being happy, me missing him, his safety. And then, I felt this tremendous relief. I was able to share my feelings while he was there. And I felt so connected to him.

So two days later, when I dropped him off at the airport, I felt strong. And now, as I read and clean and pack for the holiday and dream up adventures for me in my quiet apartment — and he’s about to take off from Dubai — I feel strong.

My coworker asked me last week, “Do you really want to spend your last weekend together with a group?” I hadn’t even thought of it that way. We had the 5-hour drive each way together, just the two of us. We had all of Monday together to sleep in and relax. And on the weekend, we were surrounded by good friends with lots of banter and laughter doing what we both love — being outside, active and adventurous. It was perfect.

And now, inexplicably, March doesn’t feel so far away.

Have a great trip, A. You’re going to be amazing.

rock climbing rocks

Well, that settles it. I’m in love.  

I’m going to go buy myself a harness, some climbing shoes and a bag of chalk and I’m going to learn how to rock climb. I climbed three routes yesterday at Great Falls, a 5.5, a 5.6 and half of a 5.7 and it was scary and exhilarating all at once. And yes, I fell off the wall all three times and my — as S. calls it — belay slave caught me. But it was gorgeous and fun and an amazing personal challenge.

Also, I had no idea how sore my forearms, and hand muscles could get. And um, fingers? My fingers are sore. That’s just weird.