Maine: Vacationland; Relaxationland

I've always been told I don't take enough time to stop and smell the roses. I usually get through each day on a well-planned and highly congested schedule that is booked minute-by-minute and has very little wiggle room for alterations or last-minute changes. But this weekend, I stopped to smell the roses.

After a mini-breakdown on Thursday night, which resulted in tears usually reserved for Friday board room meetings and cheesy unrealistic-but-I-wish-they-came-true movies, I packed my overnight bag and hit 95-N for an overnight with the Portugal gals. 

We made it record time - just over one hour. Within seconds of entering the front door, I had a glass of wine in hand and a perfect spot near the fire. There was laughter, pictures and more wine. The next morning, after a few hours of sleep and a few more tears, I opened the front door and took a deep breath of the fresh air, then exhaled as if the world depended on it. To most of the country, Maine is known as "Vacationland"; to me, the state is a quite retreat and a forceful relaxation that if nothing else, reminds me to just breathe.

(Cape Porpoise, Maine)

Champagne Cocktails and Taffy Dreams

Forget lobsters (of which we had two each) and rocky shore lines (of which we walked endlessly), this year's Maine memory comes in the form of pink champagne and licorice taffy.

I wish I knew the name of the pink champagne -- it was $20 a bottle and it was horrible, but surprisingly, an entire bottle was finished. Thinking back, that entire bottle might have been consumed by the one person who actually liked the pink champagne...

Before the more "adult" wines had been drunk and we were all too loose to drive, a few friends made their way to The Goldenrod, one of the best New England taffy factories. Unfortunately, the array had taffy had been picked through by earlier-in-the-day visitors, but lucky for me, there was an entire bundle of licorice taffy that hadn't been touched AND IT WAS ALL MINE!!

(Thank you, friends, for buying me my favorite taffy.)

The best part of Maine weekend? Sitting around the wrap-around porch with your best girlfriends and talking about Maine weekends past. Another year, another Maine weekend.

Maine Weekend

Setting: York Harbor, Maine.

Players: 10-12 girlfriends, depending on who can make it that summer.

Time: One weekend

Every year for the past seven years (I think it's seven, but as I get older my memory simply fades, so let's go with seven) we've picked one weekend during the summer to spend in York Harbor, Maine. The journey starts on a Friday after work (for some, mid-day) and ends on Sunday. Each year something more interesting happens; each year a new story to tell and new memories made.

It's collectively our favorite weekend of the summer. Some of the girls haven't seen each other for an entire year and others spend every other weekend together, but it's still a weekend to re-bond, re-group and rejuvenate among friends.

Over the years we've danced on bar tables, picked up bikers, fought off bats, chainsmoked, overdrank, canoed, kayaked, fell asleep on the beach, blown the fuse boxes, boiled lobsters, made early-morning coffee runs and ate leftover pizza from the night before. We've planned pedicures, pregnancies, outlet shopping and weddings. Families grow and priorities shift, but for one weekend every year it's just the girls.

It's the one weekend I leave the laptop at home, pack only sweats and running shoes, grab a good book and leave the worries of the city behind. This year... who knows what story we'll remember most, but it's certain to be another weekend in Maine that we'll never forget.