That was Then, This… is Saskatchewan – ECSTATICALLY ALONE TOUR

Let’s scroll back in time a bit.
Truth: I keep wanting to finish this, and put it up, but also, this trip is ALL about going with the flow…so I’m trying to be mindful of that and….wait a minute…you don’t really need to know my flowery issues. Just know that I started this last week.
Okay.
LAST WEEK, Ari took a picture of me on a hike in Thunder Bay.
I’m not going to lie, in the middle of our hike, when we got to a particularly visually pleasing rocky and rolling section, we paused and had a WARRIOR photo shoot.
As I took his picture, I was all

Me: THIS IS YOUR PROFILE PICTURE. THIS IS YOUR PROFILE PICTURE.

BUT IT IS, RIGHT!?!?

You’d think I thought I was Ansel Adams or something
Well, I don’t actually think I’m Ansel Adams, but with our trusty IPHONES, we’ve ALL become amateur photographers.
God, I love Ansel Adams.
His posters were always the biggest sellers at the college poster market…remember the college poster market!?!?…but Adams was more of a landscape artist, not a portrait artist, whereas I dabble in both.
Yes, I still very aware that I’m NOT Ansel Adams.

Later in the day, after our outdoor adventures had wrapped up and we were relaxing in our side-by-side queen beds at the swank Valhalla Inn by the Thunder Bay Airport, Ari sent my shot to me, it went up into space, bounced off of a satellite, came back down to me and I opened it on my phone…

Me: I’m a substantial gal.

…and before you write me, after a fashion, I was not mad at that thought…and then, the thought continued…

Me: Those are some strong legs. That’s a strong back. I love a braid. I’M WEARING NEW STRIPPEY SOCKS THAT I BOUGHT AT MEC. I LOVE THOSE EFFING SOCKS. #merinowool

Let’s not even get started again about how much I love those frikken boots.

I laid back, closed my eyes, put my phone to my chest, and mulled over my footwear joy…which took some glorious time.
When I opened my eyes, I pulled the phone up towards the ceiling, over top of my pillowed head, like a teenager in a movie, and looked at the picture again.
My smile.
I looked at my smile and a feeling washed over me like a flush…not a flash…a flush.
We like flushes.
At least I do.
My eyes filled up and I gulped in a breath.

God fucking damn it, Matthews.
I’m so glad I hung (hang) onto myself.
I’m so, so glad I discover(ed) myself.
I’m so thankful I do things, even when I’m scared (shitless and not shitless).
I’m so deeply, fucking grateful that I remind(ed) myself who I am…especially when I’m not totally convinced of who I am.

And, you know what? Some days, I’m NOT totally convinced OF MANY THINGS and really need a pep talk that only I can give myself.

Yes. The feeling was a lot.
I breathed in again, slower this time, though it must have been loud, because Ari looked over at me from his side of the room, to see what was what.
I put on a smile, because I wanted to keep the thought to myself for a while.
Yes, this feeling was almost too much.
Uncomfortable happiness.
It’s one of my things. I think I’ve mentioned this before.
BUT I will NOT be uncomfortable with my happiness forever.
This picture reminds me that it WON’T be forever.
There may be days when I’m uncertain about a myriad of things…but I am WAY MORE THAN CAPABLE of shoring my defences and/or my foundations.
That picture reminds me of that, too.
I got the strong in me.

I’m so fucking glad that even when I’ve felt fucked up beyond all reason, I’ve kept me safe.
Trust yourself, Matthews.
That was then, This is NOW.
That was then, THIS is now.

Holy.

Today, is my first real alone day on my trip.
I’m relaxing into my alone-ness, although, it’s nice that Ari’s just across town right now, instead of across the country.
During this couple of days, I was supposed to stay with him, on his couch…but I think he needed his space (he had been away from home for over a month), and I needed mine (I’m 53 AND I need a bed, people)…and being able to admit that we need space…and a bed?…Is friendship.
This alone-ness, with my friend near by, made me get up, stretch my hands, and spin, like Mary Tyler Moore.
AS I spun, I ran into a wooden chair and almost fell down.
Probably, I will get a big-ass bruise on my shin, but the spin was still well worth it.
How often are we so very inspired that we spin?
You gotta take the magic, right? And the bruise that sometimes accompanies it.

It’s raining outside, here in Winnipeg, where I will spend the next day or so at an Air B and B in…well, the north-west part of town…I think.

Google maps and Waze have made us geographically soft, haven’t they?

The rain is not a deluge, like the deluge I drove through last night, to get into town.
Today, it’s a sideways, spitty kind of rain situation.
Just enough to be a bother.
Staring out the window in Winnipeg, drinking a smart peppermint tea, I’m reminded of another rainy night in Toronto, one that happened just a few days before I departed on this trip.

FLASHBACK.
It was well after midnight, and I was leaving my best pal Thom’s apartment after we’d spent the evening celebrating my birthday, a night that included the following, in no particular order:

-truly hysterical laughter
-two kinds of birthday cake (for reals, Thom does nothing small)
-lots of take out
-very loud talking
-presents (Thom knows I love presents)
-a multitude of Carol Channing videos
-all the videos that we could find on YOUTUBE of all the women who’d played Gypsy, singing Rose’s Turn…and there were a lot, let me tell you WHAT.

It was a NIGHT, people.
As I left Thom’s place, the air that surrounding me was filled with September Toronto humidity, heavy and of a temperature that was hard to discern….is it warm? It is it cool? Who knows.
The street was really quiet, even though he lives on a major thoroughfare.
The pavement was shiny with rain, even though the rain had stopped, at some point.
A bit of a magical Toronto evening.

Walking a short distance down the street to my parked car, heart filled to the brim with the joy of my evening, I casually looked across the street…and

Me: Wait…what? Is that…is that my old car?

My old car. Our old car.
The car I’d driven thousands of miles, the car that is now my ex-husband’s car, possibly parked just across from mine, sitting right there, obvious as anything, shining under the street lamp.
I stood still, just steps from my best friend’s house, just steps from my car, which was once our other car, and examined this familiar shape, from across the street.
Huh.
It couldn’t be.
Not so close to my long time best friend’s house.
Not so close to my new home all the way across the city to the west end, where, at the end of 2020, I’d moved for the first time in my entire Toronto life, to give myself space, newness…and distance…from things like this car.
It couldn’t be.
But if I’ve learned anything during this last five years? It totally could be.

AND, let me tell you what, this line of thinking wasn’t about emotion…it was mathematical…my mind was running through all the facts, like a computer.

Because you know what? I wasn’t upset or stung by it’s presence.
I was inquisitive.
I was curious.
I’m a detective, after all.
Really…I played one on TV, and that shit rubs off.
So, I looked around the deserted street, and crossed towards the familliar car.

Yes, yes indeed, there was the rusted out spot that’d been fixed over the driver’s side wheel well.
And there, plain as day, was my old license plate, parked ACROSS the street from our old license plate, that is now MY license plate on my car…that was, again, our car, at one point.
Weird.
Just…weird.
Huh.
I poked around inside myself, because surely this car’s proximity to my “now” life would make me feel something, right?
Nothing.
I felt nothing…but my detective-ness.
I stood looking at the car that had carried my marriage, my past and three of my dogs, searching for the familiar anger that had burned inside me, like a fire in Survivor, for a couple of years…searching…searching…helloooooo, where are you anger?
Silence. Empty chambers.
Not there.
Huh.
I walked away.
As I crossed back to my car, I mused about how very cool this moment was.
It was actually enjoyable.
I’ve said this before…but when meaningful change has happened for me, it’s been very quiet…it just happens.

I smiled.

I crossed the street and I smiled.
Onward, Matthews.
What a joyous absence of any feeling, but happiness.

As the changes in my life pile up, there were a few more instances of movement in the last week that I care to mention here:

1. I decided to do some investigation (detective), and find some new songs. The songs that marked my past, and the songs that marked my healing…can go away for a while, till I can hear them, new. I’m going to search for some new music in my life. No more pain/past-listening. No more.
2. For the longest time, I really liked (like most gals do, and HUZZAH to them) to put up meaningful, blind item, memes on my INSTAGRAM…it was kinda the only angry, public voice that I allowed myself. It was my way of saying, “Yes, I’m mad. Yes, something shitty happened to me. Yes, yes, yes…and here is how I’m going to show it to the world without actually saying it”. A few days ago, on a lunch stop, Ari and I sat in my car, scrolling through our phones (it was raining outside), and even though I’d slowed down my meme posts in the last year, I found a really really primo meme that said…well, it was great, edgy, and sharp…that’s all you need to know…and I was just about to post it, and I thought, “Yeah, I think I’m done that part.” It was a bit of a surprise, and a relief, to be quite honest. It’s time to move on. No more revenge memes. No more.

These three points of change, the car, the songs and the memes, weren’t something I had to reach for, they just happened.
They just seemed right.
Taking time to worry over the car, post the meme or listen to a song and feel sad/mad/bad just felt like a waste.
It’s time to meaningfully move on, like Dot in Sunday in the Park with You Know.

And now, today…today, today…as this post moves through time to the NOW NOW…I’m out here, on my own, just like Doris Schwartz in The Kids From Fame…but not as earnest…hopefully.
Today is the first day of the second week of my month long trip.
Two days ago, I left Ari in Winnipeg…but I’ll be back…and now, I’m on my way to Edmonton to see my pal, Patty.
I haven’t seen her in…in…like…seven years? Holy shit.

Last night, I stayed in a little gem called The Country Inn in Regina…which is WAY better than it sounds.
I.
SLEPT.
LIKE.
THE.
DEAD.
I’ve always been wary of using that statement…but it really tells the story.
This morning I woke, after NINE HOURS SLEEP (can I get a what-what from my perimenopausal sisters) to the smell of breakfast, and when I opened my triple locked, ground floor door onto the parking lot, a dude was standing behind his pick up truck (that was the size of the Empire State Building) cooking eggs on a portable grill.
WE ARE IN THE PRAIRIES NOW, PEOPLE!!!

Sidebar: THERE are SO many old dudes in Regina walking around with no masks on, daring you to say something.
End of Sidebar.

It’s really been a lovely, sunny drive, for the last couple of days.
When I posted yesterday about being in Saskatchewan, so many kind people wrote me, to tell me about the sites, to invite me to dinner, to welcome me to the province…that I was warm to the cockles of my heart. THANK YOU, HUMANS.
What a wonderful bunch of people.
The unmasked old dudes don’t define this lovely place.
This morning I put in the google:

BEST PLACES TO BIKE NEAR SASKATOON

…and the google’s first pick was BLACKSTRAP PROVINCIAL PARK.
The name seemed…saucy.
I put the address in my driving app and after about 190kms, and three old dudes in the Tim Horton’s not wearing masks, Siri instructed me to turn down a dirt road.
I’m not going to lie, there was a good deal of me that was screaming to just keep driving to Saskatoon, and not be adventurous…but I brought my bike goddamn it, and I want to ride.
Turn down the dirt road, Matthews.
You wanted adventure, let’s get this shit started.
13kms.
I drove on a VERY rough gravel and dirt road for 13kms.
It started like this

While gorgeous, the view was very rural, so I could not imagine what the provincial park would look like!
SHARRON, OPEN YOUR MIND!! ALL THE PROVINCES ARE DIFFERENT.
Eventually, I came over a ridge and made a sharp left…and suddenly, there in front of me, was a gorgeous river, in a lush valley…and the entrance to Blackstrap.
Lol.
It was a really stunning view.
I parked my car, changed into my riding gear out in the open (there was no one around), took my bike of the rack…and rode.
It was glorious. It was also hilly. But it was still glorious.
I was smiling the whole time. ADVENTURE, BITCHES!!!

Now, I’m in my hotel room, where I put my feet on the window sill and watched the glorious sunset.

Prairie sunsets really are the best.

This morning, while I sat in my car beside the dude who was making eggs on the back of his Rambler, I set up a DISCOVER NEW SONGS set list on Spotify.
It played for most of the ride.
While it had a lot of great songs on it, I have not found THE song yet.
My new theme song.

Fuck “What is our couple song?”, I want my OWN friggen song.

We deserve to have our OWN soundtrack.
I will find it.
I’m ready to put in the work, but not tonight.
My ass hurts from my bike ride, and it’s time to turn in…even though it’s only 9:30pm.

I still have three weeks left.
Goddamn…I hope it’s enough. : )

Namaste

October 14th to October 17th, 2021
Winnipeg,MN, Regina, SK and Saskatoon, SK.

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