This past weekend I went on a writing retreat with some colleague/friends of mine up to Wisconsin. The next few days I'll be posting the happenings of that trip, in case you're curious what a ladies' writing retreat resembles. I personally think it was a raging success, and not just because I got to get away for a long weekend.

I meant to leave at 1 PM (it's about a four-hour drive up to Bear Valley, WI), but that didn't happen. There was work-work to get done first, and then I wanted to pack a few boxes before we left. I also made myself go to Pier One because I'm hosting Thanksgiving this year, for the first time, in our new house that we'll have been living in for not even two weeks, and I wanted to take advantage of a coupon I had before all the Thanksgiving stuff went away (it's all Christmas now). I figured, correctly, that I would be more excited about Thanksgiving if I had started to put my own stamp on it.

Finally, after not exercising and not showering like I had planned, but after I did scribble an "I love you" not to Steve and Paul and taped it on the hanging light in the kitchen, I packed myself and Briscoe up and dropped him off at my parents' house and got on the road.

I think I get this from my mother, who enjoys her alone time, but I loved the total autonomy I had in the car. I could listen to what I wanted ("How Did This Get Made?," about Over the Top, Daredevil and Demolition Man) and eat whatever I wanted and how much of it (Diet Pepsi; Snyder's peanut butter pretzels and some fruit and nut trail mix) and decide when I stopped and where. I only made one stop but the possibility that I could go to the Mars Cheese Castle or stop at Ian's Pizza in Madison or go to Culver's (I like food) without having to consult anyone at all was thrilling.

Thrilling, and maybe a little bit dangerous. I'm aware of how sheltered or banal my life must sound but it felt a little daring to head four hours away, driving on the highway, making gas station trips in the middle of nowhere unaccompanied. It was well after dark by the time I got close to the rental house and I had to use my brights on the curvy, 55 MPH roads (there was something somewhat convivial about seeing another car, both of us switching our brights off at the same time to avoid blinding the other). A large deer carcass by the side of the road was a reminder of one other danger when driving in the country. Google Maps said I had arrived but clearly, I hadn't, and with only a few red millimeters left on my cell phone battery I sat in the dark trying to figure out where I had to be. It was just scary enough to feel like a little adventure without actually feeling dangerous.

I finally found the house; Wendy had gotten there just before me and just gotten in after asking the neighbor/manager for help getting in. We were thrilled with Bear Valley Vista: quaint and country-ish but not in a dusty, old-fashioned way. The kitchen had been updated recently, as had the bathrooms, and there was a bed for each woman, plus two and a half baths, and laundry, and two screened-in porches.

We decided that it was just a night for decompressing so we drank some wine and chatted and put away groceries after Kelly and Kate and then Molly arrived, excitedly checking out all the tabletops and desks in the house (important for five writers hoping to get some work done.) Kelly heated up some braised beef she had brought along and made a salad and cooked some wide flat noodles and we set the dining room table with placemats and cloth napkins and celebrated the fact that we had made this happen. I used to go on girls' trips with my friends Liz and Christina in years past but those stopped after we all got married and it became harder to organize things and spend big money on fun "just us" stuff. The five of us were getting away, we were relaxing, we had plans to work: we were getting it done in a way that makes me feel grateful to be mature. People who think ahead of time about things like who will bring the coffee and who will make dinner benefit from their organization (shout out to Kelly, who was the prime organizer.)

After dinner we retired to the sitting room and drank tea and ate chocolate chip, oatmeal and pecan cookies that Kelly had made and brought, talkin' girl talk the way girls do. I'd been up since 5:45 and so decided to head to be at 9:45 to do some reading before drifting off. My room, in the hands of a caretaker with poorer taste, could have been cheesy and creepy (one vintage doll was all it would have taken) but instead it was a cozy nook with some antique furniture but no doilies or dust in sight.