It was Enchanting To Meet You.

This past weekend I went to visit a friend who has terminal cancer  .His name is Ken. And his wife's name is Marcia. They own a beautiful B&B on acres and acres of land. They create everything from this land-jars of jelly, fresh veggies for dinner, freshly squeezed juice. The name of the B&B is perfect: "The Enchanted Valley." In Cross Plains, Wisconsin.

I have special memories of my own there. I remember the first time I visited the place and it was so serene and beautiful. Ken and Marcia were so charismatic, magical, and loving. Sometimes I believed that when I left the house, Marcia and Ken would disappear because they were actually not human but instead angels, inviting me there to better my life in some way.

It has been 7 years since I faithfully visited their B&B, but I have always kept in contact with Ken & Marcia.Mainly because the last reason I visited, I hugged them and told them they were like my third set of grandparents. That feeling has stuck with me and never left.

Marcia sent me a pretty desperate sounding email a few weeks ago, and it sounded like she was battling a lot of emotional stress.

I knew then that Ken was dying, and I had to go see him before it was too late. So this last weekend I went to The Enchanted Valley all by myself to see Ken & Marcia. I helped Marcia with things she needed around the house. Like the dishes, squeezing grapefruit for fresh juice in the morning. I put sheets on my own bed. I woke up early on a Saturday morning and went to the State Street farmers market in Madison to buy Ken & Marcia a new plant they could add to their beautiful yard. The patio we used to sit on outside to eat breakfast together was dusty and dark. The patio furniture was covered in plastic. There were no heart shaped french toast pieces for breakfast, and I found myself helping Marcia squeeze the grapefruit for fresh juice in the morning. Such a small thing was such a huge help to her.


Post it notes from hospice were stuck on the walls of the house.

Ken was so tired, his eyes would shut in the middle of a conversation. While the words escaped his mouth, his eyelids were closed. I felt him slipping away, and like a part of him was already in another place.


The hard thing to face is that he told me he wasn't ready yet, he still had a lot more he wanted to do here.

Marcia revealed her worries to me over moonlight & a cup of chai in the room off the kitchen.She tried to lay out her life to me and the plans she had for it after he was gone. Her eyes were dry with no tears because she said she had already done most of her grieving. Although sometimes the grief shocked her all at once with no warning. Every once in a while she'd ask me, "Do you think Ken can hear me? I hope not." And she'd look off in the direction of his bedroom.


I have known people who have passed from cancer. I even remember the night my grandma passed away from cancer when I was four years old. I saw this weird light that resembled a disco ball on the ceiling of my room and I swear it was her saying good-bye. I started crying because it was sort of creepy. Then my dad came up to my room to comfort me. I remember him carrying me in his arms, and told him that my grandma was up in Heaven now, smiling down at us. Where I got that from being four years old I don't know.


What I have never experienced is what it is like to actually watch someone pass away from cancer.Someone that you have experienced sweetness and the energy of life with. Ken was always passionate about life, always wanting to move on to the next thing.

Ken loved his life out in the "Enchanted Valley" and had more plans of farming, harvesting, and enjoying the land.

But here he was, lying in a recliner. Shadows that couldn't be erased were cast over the bones on his face.....And the only thing I could do to show him love is to touch his elbow. Or make sure I gave him a huge hug the moment I saw him.

To show him that I wasn't afraid of him, or afraid of the cancer that was killing his body. I wanted to show him my love through it all.

I hope my visit with Ken brought him some light. Or something. Even if my visit was only for two days. I know it brought me something. A chance to give my love to Ken & Marcia. An opportunity to visit the authentic Amanda who is very soft, tender-hearted, and warm.

A few times while I was there I felt sick, and had trouble sleeping. The air was so thick with life, death, sickness, bitter sweet love, and change. I found myself waking up in a sweat with a stomach ache, all alone in the big fluffy B&B bed. I couldn't help but wonder if I was feeling some of Ken's pain at that moment. All I can do now is pray that Ken is comforted through this time, that he finds peace in letting go. That this life here isn't all we have, and he probably has an even better "Enchanted Valley" in his future. I left him a nice note in the B&B Guest Book. I told him it was very "enchanting" to meet him. I hope he read it, and knows that it is true.♥

A Vision Board Blog of how I view the Enchanted Valley:
 
 

Here comes the bride..when she's ready.

I have the unfortunate task of announcing that not only is my engagement off..but that I also am dealing with a painful break up.  For the 2nd time in 2 1/2 years.

It isn't that I didn't want to get married. I wanted to make it work. Badly.
I wanted to move on with my life, forget about my stitched up heart and be happy.
Like people tell me that I should.

But I haven't been really happy ever since my first heart ache.
I've tried. I even opened myself up to new love, hoping that this quick mad love would repair me.
And when I say I fell in love all over again, I am not lying. I did. I wasn't expecting it.
But nothing can really repair me except for me.

So although I look selfish right now, I am doing the right thing for the first time in a long time.
I am loving him so much that I am letting him go, so he can find happiness.
Even if perhaps our happiness becomes intertwined again someday, when it is better timing.
I know how it feels to have someone do this to you-I've had it happen to me.
I am sure he is wondering why I would sacrifice our love since it was so great.

But I needed this time. For whatever God has in store.
I have battled depression, anxiety attacks, and all kinds of illnesses for a very long time.
And it hasn't gone away.
I think the source of it has been a broken heart.
So it is time I stand up and take care of myself for once.
And balancing a relationship under the pressure of a "deadline" to move on just makes it worse.
It doesn't matter how much we are in love.
I need time.
To live, and to stop numbing myself.
To stop waiting to live happily and actually create a happiness within.
To stop worrying so much about other peoples' opinions.
To listen to that "whisper" that actually whispers and yells quite loud at the same time.

Life isn't about finding yourself, it is about creating yourself.

I was going to get married, and hope that once I did, all the love from him surrounding me and not being "alone" anymore would heal my broken heart. I mean really.. I am not the first one in history to live with a broken heart.  People with broken hearts get married all the time. 

But I couldn't step into a marriage knowing that my heart wasn't all there yet.
It wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to me either.
He thinks I don't love him anymore.
But that will never be true.
He is very special to me, a treasure, and it would be really selfish of me to keep him to myself right now.
I can't give him what he needs back.
Not right now.

So I know that it will be sad for awhile. I looked for him a crowded room the other day. But I was not so graciously reminded that he wasn't there. I was alone in a crowd of people.  My mom woke me up in the middle of the night the other night, asking me if I was okay because I was crying in my sleep.  I miss him, he has been my best friend.

Sigh. I wish I was Elizabeth Gilbert (eat pray love).. I could escape to Bali or Italy and get paid to write a book about my exploration of meditation, delicious food, and living in the moment.

I could make friends in far away lands and explore new pastry recipes. I would have a blast baking for my new friends.

Oh the daydreams of a wedding. The dress, the flowers, the glamour. The gathering of friends and family, the tears from the stroll up the aisle.  The hugs at the end of the ceremony. The distant family that you invited to the wedding suddenly become friends just by a smile or a congratulations.  The uncle who gets irritated because he's hungry. The mussed up half hair sprayed hair from a very long but glorious day.  The bad moves on the dance floor at the end of the night.  The kisses activated by toasting champagne glasses. The fireplace in the hotel room after, in the silence of you and your new "husband."

The visions and hopes of planning a wedding were so much fun.  But planning a marriage is different.
A marriage should be forever. It should mean holding hands on the front porch at the end of your life together. In complete understanding and appreciation of who you are. Nothing less than complete freedom. .  At least that is how I want to feel for the rest of my life. How about you?♥

"We search for happiness everywhere, but we are like Tolstoy's fabled beggar who spent his life sitting on a pot of gold, under him the whole time. Your treasure--your perfection--is within you already. But to claim it, you must leave the buy commotion of the mind and abandon the desires of the ego and enter into the silence of the heart."

"Someday you're gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. You'll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing..."

A curly haired girl who wants to change the world...

I am really really tempted to write a children's book about my adventures delivering cupcakes!
It seems that every time I take on a new cupcake venture, something happens-to try to get in my way.
And I have to think critically and creatively to find a way to make it work.
I am not sure if this is a good-or a bad sign?
It kind of scares me.
But if you don't do something that scares you..well then..you won't get anywhere, right?

And I really think it would be fun to stretch the stories a little..make them less serious, more youthful & playful..cartoony. About a curly haired girl who wants to change the world with her cupcakes.
But she always meets some kind of challenge along the way.
I can see it now, and I think it would be great.
I am hoping that this can be a reality one day.

But for now...my latest and greatest cupcake adventure. We'll start there.
This may not be the child's version-I haven't gotten there yet.
But let's consider it my first draft.
And yes, only *one* of my many cupcake delivery dilemmas.


It was a snowy blustery APRIL day. Yes I said snow and April in the same sentence.
But no mean cold shiver or wet snowflake would stop me.  I had cupcakes to share with the world.
Inside of a cute little egg carton were mini sparkly moonbeam cupcakes made of chocolate, caramel, glittery butterflies, and peanut butter. The cupcakes begged for attention and love.  If my cupcakes could talk, they would say one of their favorite places were the chin.  Where edible sparkles are often left..even on men. Which to me, actually makes men more attractive. ("He" ate one of my cupcakes and now he has a sparkle on his chin, how cute. It has happened more than once).  My cupcakes would also say that another favorite place would be warm tummies, because they are cozy and always welcoming.

One of my stops was a local restaurant.  My friend from high school agreed to sell them for half price.
And I was happy with that. It promoted my cupcakes, and even if I got 75 cents out of it...at least it was a step up from where I was with my cupcake journey a year ago.

While I was at this restaurant, a boy came up to me.
He argued with me that $1.50 was way too much to charge for a cupcake, and asked me if I had done my research on the cost of cupcakes.  If he only knew.  I had just moved back to the Midwest from one of the epitomes of cupcakes-California.  Where the cost of a single cupcake (not even that fancily decorated) is $3-$5.00.  I swallowed my pride, looked out the window to see the snow falling down and remembered I was back in Wisconsin.  I told him that it would be well worth his time to pay the $1.50 and eat the cupcake. It took him awhile, but he did. And he paid me with a fresh $1 bill and two quarters.  He also took the time to tell me how amazing the cupcake was. This is when I noticed a tattoo on his neck spelling something out in a different language.  I shivered in slight disgust because I hate it when people tattoo their necks.  But whatever, he ate my cupcake, and he loved it.

Like a flash, he was out the door with a friend of his (His friend is like a blur to me-I can't even remember what he looks like because they sped out of the restaurant so fast).

I never would have even imagined what would happen next.
The owner of the restaurant started yelling and staring out the window at the two boys who had just taken off. 

I guess this shady boy who argued with me about my cupcakes was using me and my innocent little cupcakes as a distraction so his friend could steal money from this gambling machine in the restaurant!

Fortunately my friend was able to get the license plate# of the two cupcake mobsters, so they are probably busted big time by this point.

I sank into my chair and wanted to hide.  I felt pretty bad that my cupcakes were so used and abused while my friend's restaurant was being robbed!!!!

At the same time, it was sort of funny that one of them took the time to pay me $1.50, eat my cupcake for a moment, and tell me how great it was before running out the door.

My poor little cupcake probably didn't settle too well in that boy's stomach. . . .