Back in the Saddle Again

Hello, it's been awhile, hasn't it? A few years since I've stepped into this space to pour my heart out and share my stories. And so much has happened! A return to scholastic life, a tumble on a trail run leading to a broken kneecap and surgery, a terrifying dance with cancer leading to more surgeries, the dreaded chemo and, finally, a decision to settle down for a moment and catch our breath, regroup and get our feet back under us. Maybe one of these days I'll have the courage to rehash some of the awful stuff that I slogged through but, right now, all I want to do is take a deep breath and begin moving forward again.

So, let's just start from here, with here being a little Montana town tucked in between snowy mountains on the banks of a big river. My other half has accepted a job which will keep us in one place for awhile. We've been doing the traveling road show for so long now that we both are wondering how we'll do with our feet planted in one place for more than one season but, fingers crossed! And since we are more than ready for a bit less excitement (read: stress) in our lives, we're making the decision to leap back into our old "normal" (read: baking in a full-size oven. Yippee!). First, sell the RV, then find a place to call home and, last, settle in. Not a bad place to settle, that's for sure.

I'm feeling a bit rusty at the ol' blogging thang so please bear with me while I work out the kinks and get back into my rhythm. I hope to reconnect with old friends and maybe make some new friends along the way. And, oh, I have lots to share; from exploring this corner of Montana to my trials and tribulations of mastering artisan bread with a sourdough starter (help!). Is anybody out there willing to ride along with me? If so and if you're ready, let's saddle up! We're off to new adventures!

Wow! What a ride!

"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!" ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Bonfire at Hotel Albert

Those immortal words of Mr. Thompson have never rang so clearly in my mind as they do this December afternoon. I'm staring down at the end of 2011 and standing on tiptoes to try to get a clearer view of 2012 fast approaching. I can not believe my last post was in May. So much, SO MUCH, has happened since then!

Life these past seven months (7 months!) was full-throttle, sparkling and full of possibilities. Full of love and friends and reconnection. We worked hard, we played hard, we laughed....a lot. And, yet, it was also cloudy with confusion, struggle, sadness and loss. 

Since my last post, I have been from here

The Pioneers

To here

 

Beach babies

 

From here

 

Kayaking in Glacier or, as we like to call it, heaven

To here

Charleston churchyard

We've enjoyed bonfires, a wedding of a childhood friend, a celebration of 40 years (my brother), and get-togethers with dear ones from close and far away.

Getting my caulk on at Hotel Albert

We've hiked, argued, learned how to install a metal roof on an old hotel (thus the arguing!), kayaked, rode moonlight bike rides through Yellowstone, explored historic southern cities and old, western ghost towns. We've traveled and explored Montana, South Carolina, California, Idaho, Washington and Oregon. And, I started back to school with the vision of a bachelor's degree in my sights.

Ghostly Bannack

And, we've cried. We lost one of our four-legged family members this fall. Riley. His spirit was willing but his body gave out so...we learned a serious lesson in saying goodbye. And...of carrying someone in your heart. 

Our Riley. We miss him.

And now we find ourselves at the end of 2011. I'm sitting here in the sunshine of California, soaking it up as our next move is looming ever closer. Nina Simone is singing Sinnerman. She sings of prayers, "Don't you see me down here praying?" I'm not a much of a pray-er, not even sure if my prayers will be heard but.... today I pray. I pray that 2012 is as chock full of adventure, love, family and friends as 2011 ever was. I pray I make it through my degree quest and I can come out the other side proud of what I've accomplished. I pray that Riley, my honeybun boy, finally catches that rabbit he was chasing all his life and I pray he's sitting in a little patch of sunshine of his own. I pray that the world can find a respite from the weariness and embrace a bit of peace. And I pray for you, for all of us. I pray that this New Year is full of many wonderful things....with maybe just a bit of magic sprinkled in. 

May you have a good ride in 2012 and a very blessed and Happy New Year!

Beauty Shines Through

"The clouds collect above, drift by like marching armies on their way to war,

bringing storms and salvation.

Which, is yours to discover.

The tension builds, the winds begin their frantic dance,

increasing the pressure, the strength, the intensity until you want to escape.

But you're on an open plain, nowhere to run, no place to run to,

so the armies catch you,

open their ranks and swallow you in chaos, confusion, panic, 

despair and desperation until they spit you out the back.

They leave you standing on an open plain in a newly quiet world.

Just you, alone, breathing hard

as a light breeze dances around you."

I've thought alot about beauty this week. In our dry and desolate location, I came upon a blooming cherry tree. Its absolute incongruity in a desert landscape stopped me in my tracks. I actually gasped at the beauty of it. That this little tree could, first of all, survive but then have the flat-out audacity to bloom took my breath away. In a world of brown, of harshness, of rusted-out junkers and blowing trash, beauty in its simplicity shines through. And after a soul-shaking, what the hell just happened time when you are swallowed by the despair of ever seeing the sun again, that little glimmer through the darkness shines bright and brings with it...hope.

I've watched the news of Japan along with the rest of the world and in the absolute devastation, one thing I've noticed is the beauty shining through. The beauty of a gracious people pulling together, the beauty of a life spared, of a reunion of loved ones thought lost and I know, like this little desert cherry tree, beauty survived.

I hope that in these dark days, in the chaos and confusion, when the world chews us up and spits us out, a little glimpse of green in a brown world will stand as a reminder that we can survive the winter, that this too shall pass and if we look to the beauty instead of the tragedy, we will find hope again.

May beauty shine through, bright and unwavering, for the people of Japan. 

 Want to help? So simple: Socks for Japan

3 Weeks and 2 Days Until Liberation

Sometimes you just want to go home. Now, don't get me wrong, I love this traveling lifestyle. I still enjoy the waking up in new places and that moment of, "Where the heck are we?" and soaking in the scents and smells and sights and, well, different-ness of a new location, the peculiarities that make it so NOT home. It's fun, exciting, always an adventure. But, so far, no matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing, after a few months, it always hits. That longing for familiar. The longing for those sights, sounds and smells that set your heart to singing. And then you know...it's time to go home.

I haven't made it a secret that this assignment has been a challenge for me which makes the desire to get the hell out of Dodge (or Clovis, as the case may be) that much more intense. In one of my melancholy moods, I happened to pick up an old journal and I read something I wrote that really just sums it up.

 I remember the day so clearly. It was May of last year and we were on our assignment in Billings, MT. It was a Saturday and we had headed off into the mountains to soak up a gorgeous spring day. I was sitting in the sun on the bank of the Stillwater River while Erik chased fish and the dogs flopped on the grass beside me.

Erik and Riley flyfishing on the Stillwater River

May 8, 2010 - The leaves on the trees are bursting out, the birds are so active, the Swiftwater rushing by makes such a beautiful melody. What a gorgeous day! Mid-40's, sun is shining, snow on the ground around me but patches of spring grass warmed by the sun offers an inviting space for the dogs to stretch out on.

Oh, Montana, how I love you! Fickle though you may be, your beauty, your generosity makes the temper tantrums worthwhile. I am already feeling the loss of leaving you and moving on to our next stop even though I know adventure awaits. The gypsy life is a strange one. The thrill of waking up and wondering, "Where am I today?", the discovering of new places, new people never gets old.

Yet, I can't help looking back over my shoulder as I walk away at what I'm leaving behind. That sense of melancholy knowing you'll go on without me while I'm gone. Your snows will melt, your flowers will bloom and I'll be far away finding different flowers, different spaces but none to compare with those of my beautiful Montana.

Montana Wildflowers

 So, there you have it. And in 3 weeks and 2 days, we're heading back to Montana for the summer. Ahhhhhh......(soul-deep sigh).

Yep, I love traveling, love moving on. But, you know what I love even better?

Going home.

I Am An Athletic Supporter

And they're off! Austin Marathon Start. Go Erik, Go!

So, we just got back from Austin, TX (FABULOUS city, by the way) having traveled there this past weekend for the Austin Marathon. No, smart-asses, I didn't run it, my athletically-inclined husband did. Me? I just tagged along for the chance to experience a city I haven't seen before and get the hell out of Clovis for awhile. Oh, and to play my role as Athletic Supporter. Yea, there was that.

Taking my life in my hands to get this picture

Let me clarify this title. I'm going to start with what it is NOT. It is not "wake up at a leisurely hour, take a shower and feed yourself, then head downtown to grab a latte before the start of the event." It is not "pick a scenic and comfortable-for-the-temperature spot along the route, settle in and cheer as your designated athlete runs/cycles/kayaks/swims by". It is not "find a good spot at the finish line, get comfortable, gab with your friends or other cheerleaders near by and wait for your designated athlete to run/cycle/kayak/swim across the line". It is NOT "just cheerleader".

One of Erik's many sports.

Nope, being an Athletic Supporter is a whole different animal. What it IS is "being awakened before the crack of dawn by an over-anxious, amped-up person, frantically packing the car with sundry athletic bits and pieces, being rushed out the door without one or more of the following: breakfast, coffee, a shower and/or the chance to hit the bathroom, and a nervous adrenaline-fueled drive ending in an argument over the best place to park." It is "being pack mule, pit crew, shuttle van driver, first-aid station, race coordinator, transition set-up, food station, lost and found, and sport psychologist all at the same time". It is "being expected to be at the start to cheer and take pictures and still make it through crowds and closed streets to the transition area before the athlete to make sure all gear is set-up and waiting, then pick up all rapidly discarded items that are cast off as your designated athlete flies by, repeat (sometimes more than once), and make it to the finish line to once again cheer and take pictures". It is "lugging a 17 foot, 70 pound kayak half a mile as fast as your little legs can carry you and it, then somehow miraculously and with much swearing hoisting it onto the roof of a van, strapping it on and STILL managing to make it to the next leg in time" I'm still traumatized over that one, by the way. It is "being sports photographer while doing one or all of the above and STILL managing to stop and capture the requested "action" shots of your designated athlete and his competitors".

Transition at the Desert International Triathlon

My nemesis. The 17' kayak.

It is frustrating, stressful and sometimes painful. But it is also hugely satisfying. Take the Austin Marathon. Erik has trained so hard for it, through gale-force winds, negative degree temps, sun, rain, snow. He runs. He runs because, for him, it's more than just a way to get exercise, it's a crusade. He was bound and determined to beat a certain time. He knew the marathon course was going to be hilly and here in Clovis there's not an incline within 150 miles. It didn't deter him. He ran. Sometimes his running drove me crazy. Christmas Eve? Too bad, gotta get my miles in. Need help with the dogs? Too bad, gotta get my miles in. Still, most of the time, I admire his dedication to the cause, his drive, his athletic prowess. I don't quite get it, but I do admire it.

Austin Marathon bridge crossing. See? I made it.

But the morning of the marathon found me grumpy and chafing at the confines of my supporting role. Yes, he's worked so hard for this day but, damn it, all I really wanted to do was find a coffee house, grab a latte, and wander stress-free through the festive city, casually making my way to the finish line to cheer him on home. I just didn't want to be dragged kicking and screaming into the drama. Heck, I'm not running the race! Instead, I was rushed out the door at the crack of dawn, no coffee, no shower, no bathroom break, argued with over where to park the van, stressed out at having to rush to drop off his gear bag on 6th St and run to get to the start line at 16th. He's in running shorts and a tank top which weigh, hmm, a few ounces? Me? I've been outfitted with my marathon support gear: big camera to capture said "action" shots, bag containing chapstick, extra GU, wallet (that's 5 pounds, right there!), long lens for my camera, race map, pace card, keys to hotel and van, and I'm holding a water bottle and, at the moment, his gear bag. It's early, I'm tired and chilly and there are too many damn people looking at me and bumping into me. I'm worried that he hasn't had any time to warm up and my stress is fueled by his nervous orders to me. "Ok, so you're going to get pictures of me at the start, right? And then if you could get over to mile 8 to take pictures of me as I cross the bridge that would be great". (He has his own blog and all his athlete friends will be checking in to see the report. No pressure, though). "But just make sure you get back to the finish on time, ok?". Hrrmph, as if I ever let him down. I am now feeling quite resentful. I want a shower, I REALLY wanted to sleep in. I want a latte. But, frankly, it doesn't really matter what I want, now does it? I feel like bitch-slapping the next happy, endorphin-laden, lycra-encased freak that, in their pre-race haste to get to the starting line, bumps into me.

My thought exactly. At the Austin Finish line.

But then it happens like it happens every time I tell myself that THIS time I will NOT get sucked in. He smiles at me with that goofy, excited, hopeful, expectant expression on that damn face of his and says those magic words, "Kiss me and wish me luck". I see the nerves, I see the hope and I see the need to have me...grumpy, rumpled me, as his supporter. Shit, here I go again. So I kiss him, and I wish him luck and I watch anxiously as he jets off to conquer his demons with the sparkle of the lights of the State Capitol shining down and the pink hope of a new day glowing softly on the horizon.  All that passion, all that drive, all that expectation....And I am resolved, once again, to slip into my supporting role and do my best not to let him down. Because, damn it, I AM an Athletic Supporter....and proud of it.

How can you say no to that face? At the start of the Austin Marathon.

Poor Me Sucks It Up

Angel of Santa Fe

I was sitting here with still frozen pipes and my "poor me" attitude firmly affixed, looking out at a cold and not-so-pretty view and longing for the end of this assignment so we could just move ON already. I'm tired of red dirt and dust that filters into every crevice, flat-as-a-pancake, sticker and cactus encrusted plains, the smell of cow manure and frigid, freeze-you-to-the-bone wind and I'm really sick of the name...Clovis. Really? With such poetic and intriguing names such as Ruidoso, Tucumcari, Santa Fe, Taos and the always fun, Albuquerque, surrounding you, the founding fathers of this little burg chose CLOVIS? Someone seriously needs a reality check.

I have actually surprised myself with the depth of my self-pity. Though some of our assignments haven't been in the best of locations, I've always enjoyed the experience and the thrill of exploring a brand new corner of my world. Not quite sure why this one has worked me over so badly but, as I listened to that voice in my head bitch and complain and go on and on about how miserable she is, I decided enough was enough and it was time to pull up my bootstraps and focus on the really amazing and beautiful spots we've discovered while cooling our heels in Clovis, NM.

So, without further ado, here is a glimpse into our world and an "Up yours!" to that whiny voice inside my head:

Santa Fe Overpass

Desert Landscape near Santa Fe

Camel Rock

Erik and Chloe stretching their legs in Palo Duro Canyon, TX

 

Palo Duro Canyon, TX

Pot-bellied stove in Lincoln, NM

Mission in Lincoln, NM

Defense turret in Lincoln, NM

Grandparents farmhouse, Circleback, TX

Last sunset of 2010

 

Deep Freeze

Frozen Window

It was minus 25 degrees this morning. And I live in a motorhome. I really feel it’s about time to rethink my life.

Really, if I wanted to live through temps like this, I could have gone home to Montana and at least had the pleasure of beautiful scenery, things to do and friends and family to shack up with.

To say I’m cold is an understatement. My poor dogs won’t even go outside voluntarily, their paws freezing within minutes. I’ve resorted to carrying a bath towel when we head outside so that when the doggie dance of trying to get frozen paws out of contact with frigid ground begins, I can rush over and offer a brief respite by throwing the towel on the ground and letting then stand on it like a barefoot child on a hot, sandy beach.

Chloe huddled in her blankets

Between the necessary but dreaded dog walks, my day consists of huddling under my down blanket, only surfacing to heat up tea or re-cover a shivering dog.  I finally had to give up on my daily ritual of vacuuming up dog hair and dusting down surfaces as my space heater and microwave are running on overtime. Heck, maybe the extra hair will give us another layer of insulation. I can only hope.

I watch the winter storm warnings flash across the tv screen telling us to take shelter, cover skin and avoid staying outside for longer than 30 minutes at a time. I watch the forecasts with bated breath wondering when this deep freeze will come to an end…and wondering if I’m going to cave before it does and finally drag my frozen extremities and canine companions to the nearest hotel in hopes of finding a hot, hot shower and warm toes.

Ugly grey sweats, down booties and dog hair

For now, though, I’m hunkered down, encased in layers and layers of high-tech thermal sportswear topped by the ugliest grey sweat pants you will ever see with my feet covered by my down, campsite booties and strands of errant dog hair sprinkled about like sequins. And with all this down time on my hands, I decided to teach myself to knit. It’s not pretty but if I keep the down blanket pulled up over my head, my fingers stay warm enough to work my way through the stitches and the bright green yarn reminds me of spring. Oh man, I can’t wait until spring!

Doesn't that green remind you of spring?

Erik came home from work last night and said disgustedly, “You know, this time last year we were in Palm Springs.” Oh, lordy, I just wanted to cry. I remember Palm Springs and, even better, Ventura and the beach and warm sand and dolphins swimming and hot sunshine and…hold on, I’m getting myself worked up. But we’re not in Palm Springs. For better or worse, we picked Clovis, NM to winter in so here we sit, frozen inside our little ice-cube of a motorhome.

But, then I think, honestly, who am I to complain? Yes, this sucks. It really, REALLY sucks BUT we are so lucky that we have the option of choosing. I wonder how many people are stuck right where they are with no hope of choosing something different? How many people here in Clovis are shivering right along with us but, for them, this is it? In a month or two, we get to move on but this is their reality. Erik and I are so darn blessed that we have a choice. We can choose where we go and where we spend our time on earth. So, yes, next time we will probably choose Southern California beaches or desert over the New Mexican plains for winter. And maybe I’ll choose the hotel over freezing my ass off tonight but, for now, I’m going to pour myself a glass of wine and pull the down blanket over my head and toast to the fact that we have choices and, like it or not, we chose this crazy, surprising, wonderful, lonely, frustrating, unbelievable gypsy life. So raise your glasses, friends, and let's drink to choices!

I choose this!

Christmas on the Farm

Down on the farm in my Xtra Tufs

I love the holidays. Snowfall, Christmas lights, discovering the perfect gift for that special person, snuggling up, drinking hot chocolate and peppermint coffee, even Christmas carols. I love them. I love that this time of year is when we really focus on those who are important in our lives and I love sending Christmas cards and special wishes to those who are near and dear to my heart. Then there's that little thrill when I receive them in return. Those little notes of what the year has served up, the snapshots of smiling faces as reminders of life moving and growing and expanding. For a brief moment, I reconnect with those that I love. And then time swirls on, the holidays pass, winter turns to spring and we all get back to business dancing along the pathways we've chosen for our life.

We've been on the road two years now. Two years! It's so hard to believe but there you have it. Last Christmas, we got to spend it on the golden beaches and cozy setting of Ventura, CA. And it was lovely, really a wonderful place to spend that special time. But, I have to admit that one of the things that I really love about the holidays is that impromptu gathering of friends and family, cozied up, laughing, teasing and storytelling on a cold winter's night. It's been one of the hardest transitions to life on the road, that isolation you feel, the never really being part of the group. Most of the time I enjoy being the bystander and getting a glimpse into other people's realities but at the holidays I really yearn for that connection, that feeling of being part of the tribe, knowing that the people around you really care about who you are and where you're going when you step out the door.

Well, this year we got all that and a bag of chips...literally. Last month we moved from the beautiful Queen City of North Carolina to the edge of the windswept plains of West Texas. Technically, we're perched in New Mexico but Texas is a mere 8 miles up the road. And this means that family is not far away. A few years back, my dad married his high school sweetheart and returned to the farming life of his youth so, lucky for us, Christmas Eve was spent down on the farm.

Hubby striking a pose

Cold enough for snow but that's actually cotton on the ground.

Lovely glow of the Christmas tree

Erik, me and Alice...and the bag of chips

Christmas Day found us tucked up snug as a bug in a rug back in our motorhome. That doesn't mean that Santa doesn't make an appearance! And after 9 (Chloe and Daisy) and 10 (Riley) years of Christmas extravaganza, receiving everything from bison bones to flying frisbees, the dogs have learned that when the sparkly lights and crackly paper make an appearance, good times and good eating are sure to follow. I think they were more excited on Christmas Day than Erik and me!

Christmas loot

Chloe, guarding the Christmas loot

Riley, hoarding the Christmas loot

As the last rays of sun spilled out across the landscape, Erik and I took a moment to reflect on the many blessings life presents and how darn lucky we are to be on this great adventure with friends and family willing to come along for the ride.

Hope your holidays were as special as ours and you were lucky enough to be surrounded by those who love you.