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.

Wishing You All A Merry Christmas

Curry It Up

 

There's one thing that I've always wanted to try...to make my own curry. I'm addicted to curry, either Indian or Thai, I'm really not picky and one of my favorites is Thai Massaman curry. So, when I came across this gorgeous mortar and pestle in a secondhand shop, my vision of pounding and grinding my own curry paste finnnaallly came to pass. First let me just say, for anyone who has ever tried to find galangal root and doesn't live in a large metropolitan area with a large Thai population, let me just tell you that you're going to have an adventure...and probably see things and meet people you might soon want to forget. Be that as it may, I did find the galangal root and the many other exotic ingredients required for my first curry experiment. And I just might want to add, it was due to no small amount of assistance from the very patient and oh-so-much-braver spousal unit (what would I do without that guy!).

So, ingredients procured,  I dove in. I chopped, pounded, grinded, whined, asked the spousal unit for a donation of his muscle power, grinded some more, calculated the calories I was burning while doing all of the aforementioned, sniffed, sighed, laughed giddily and finally produced my very own.......

 

 curry paste! Woohoo! Did I screw things up a bit? Duh, of course, but it was still delish...though not as delish as my favorite curry at Cham Thai in Billings, MT to which I measure all other curries (is it too weird that my favorite Thai restaurant is in Billings, MT? I swear it's better than any that I've tried, from Australia to New York! Try it and then we'll see who should be labeled "crazy"). So, I will call my curry making a minor success and I look forward to my next attempt...though I'm not sure the hubby would say the same. Hrmph. Maybe I'll just move on to my other desired use of mortar and pestle. Making my own chocolate! Now, if I could just get my hands on some cacao beans.....

And since I'm talking successful kitchen adventures, here's another that really knocked our socks off. It's a recipe for a Tomato Pie. Oh, stop it! Don't think I don't see you turning your nose up! I see you. But I swear this recipe is so good you'll get past the less than appealing title and be running to your computers to post your own blogs about this tasty little dish. It comes from one of my favorite bloggers, Nici, over at Dig This Chick.

 She made it as a pie, but due to my attempt to cut carbs, I turned it into a tomato tart, using only a half recipe of a Pate Brisee. Other than the fact I substituted a shallot for the garlic (and only because I had more shallots than garlic) and changed it from a pie to a tart, I followed her recipe exactly and came up with...

magic! And a favorite new dinner recipe. Hmm, and let's not overlook the fact I got to indulge in a little, um, BAKING! Thanks, Nici, I owe you one!

Going Botanical

 

So, I've been a bit lost lately. Due to inspiration from a friend to get my nutritional life in order, my baking and chocolate-making has come to a true and abrupt end. I know, I know it's good for me and having lost 12 pounds and counting, I guess I can't argue with the reality. A woman can not live on brownies alone. Still, my poor soul was sad...and lost. First, no gardening and now no baking, no chocolate-making?  Really? Please say it ain't so...

But, I've held firm and, now, only on special occasions do I allow myself to indulge in a little kitchen magic. Instead, I have tried to embrace cooking as a substitute for baking. Frankly, it just doesn't do it for me.What's the difference?, you might ask, and to you I say there's a grand canyon size gap between the harsh chopping, dicing, sauteing, roasting and simmering of cooking and the beautiful ballet of sifting, folding, whipping, melting and rolling of baking. Sigh... And, just plain and simple, it doesn't satisfy my chocolate-loving, homemade-baked-good, garden-deprived soul.

And, thus, I found myself at loose ends. But what to do, what to do? Well, luckily for me our traveling circus just relocated from the land of tall cotton to the bright lights of the Charlotte area and what did I find upon my arrival? ....wait for it....A BOTANICAL GARDEN! Oh yes, people, a REAL, honest-to-goodness, drop-to-your-knees-and-thank-the-gardening-gods, enchanting, marvelous, magical, filled-with-butterflies-and flowering-plants, B.O.T.A.N.I.C.A.L G.A.R.D.E.N. Hold on, I need a moment....

And they let me in. Yep, no joke, they let me wander the gardens and sniff the flowers, and sit on the benches, trail my hand in the water, touch the sculptures and marvel at the orchids on the orchid wall. They have an ORCHID WALL for godsakes. In a glass conservatory. And, let me repeat, they let me in. Hold on, I'm having heart palpitations...

But this is not the best part. Oh no. After wandering for hours, and I do mean HOURS, and wondering how I could move 3 dogs, a motorhome and a husband onto the property without anyone noticing, a lightbulb came on. I could VOLUNTEER. If I volunteered, they would let me work in the garden, I'd get to get my hands in the dirt, I could...deadhead, or water something, or prune or maybe even plant something. All that garden-longing and envy that I've been tamping deep down inside me since we began this grand adventure welled right up and bubbled over. My feet were moving before I knew it. I found myself standing at the reception desk, staring wildly at the confused but oh-so-polite, genteel woman manning the desk and practically begging, alright full-on begging, to volunteer (And for those of you who know how shy I am, all I can say is it must have been delirium and low blood sugar that made me do it) And here's the best part...they said....YES! Oh yeah, they said yes and now, I, traveling gypsy and reformed chocolate-maker/baker of fattening goodies, am indulging my wildest gardening fantasies at the incredible Daniel Stowe Botanical Gardens (insert angels singing here).

My first day of gardening bliss was yesterday and it was everything I hoped for and more. They handed me a pair of clippers and asked if I wouldn't mind trimming the privet hedge. Are you kidding me? You hand an obsessive gardener with a perfectionist bent a pair of clippers and point her towards an overgrown hedge and what you'll have when you come back is a hedge so perfectly shaped, so straight, that if you could pick it up, you could use it as a ruler! Let's simply say, I was in heaven...and I was told by the lead horticulturist, while the rest of the staff stood back and marveled, that their hedges haven't been so straight since they stopped using the hedge trimmer 3 years ago....umm, so I got a bit carried away. It's been awhile, ok?

And, just so you know this whole fairytale is fact and not something I made up out of the clarity of my nutritionally-satisfied but sugar-deprived brain, here are a few photos of the wonderland I get to wander through every Thursday, rain or shine.

Yep, and my soul is smiling a Cheshire cat grin.

Away Down South in Dixie

I left the land of big, snow-capped mountains and find myself lost in fields of cotton. Gone are my fields of wildflowers and in their place are flowering tobacco plants and nobs of fluffy cotton bobbing in the wind. This morning I woke to filmy fog hovering in the air and for a moment it was as if time was suspended, was it present day or 100 years in the past? With the fog hiding any evidence of modern day life, I could have been walking a plantation where the landscape hasn't changed in many, many lifetimes.

I've always wanted to visit North Carolina and, now, I sit here torn as to how I feel. It seems to be a state with many different faces. We're in a town tucked up near the Virginia border. It used to be a thriving port city along the Roanoke River and a major textile producer. Now, the textile mills are closed and boarded up and the river has been forsaken for the high speed interstate that slices through town. The grand old plantation homes have been left to rot and ruin and they creak and tumble back into the earth. The town is depressed and depressing and...yet... there is another side it shows. I listen to the rhythmic voices around me, see the families gathered in the parks or sipping sweet tea on the front porch and find a different view. The slow drawl of stories told, jokes shared and miseries commiserated reveal a history of connection...of living. Tough lives, hard struggles and still the joy of life shines through.

If you move beyond the small, plantation towns and travel 60 miles down the road, you'll see a very different face, a glamorous, sophisticated, urban face. You'll find concerts, and cultural events, fresh produce, traffic, shopping malls, recycling, Thai restaurants and, heck, you'll even find a Trader Joe's! Upon first driving into Raleigh, I felt as if I had been backpacking for a month and had just walked out of the woods and re-entered the rat race. Talk about culture shock!

And, then, there is another face, the one I love, the one I could gaze at for hours and hours, the sun-drenched, rough-skinned, and rowdy face of the Outer Banks. Ahhh, give me a moment.... Ok, yes, the Outer Banks. Quirky towns, miles, and I do mean MILES, of soft, sandy, lovely beaches, warm water, pirate lore (c'mon, who wouldn't love a place that Blackbeard called his home), sunsets to die for, sunrises that insist that you get out and gather on the beach with other sleepy strangers in various states of undress and which make you all give a collective sigh as the sun rises into view over the watery horizon. There are crashing waves, sea air, strong coffee, Apple Uglies, and lighthouses. Magnificent lighthouses.

I never knew how much I loved lighthouses until I climbed the Buxton lighthouse at an ungodly hour after consuming the aforementioned strong coffee and Apple Uglie. Yes, there were moments of vertigo as I twirled around and around inside the kaleidoscopic interior twisting my way to the top but, oh, once I stepped out....ahhhh, I took a deep breath and just breathed it all in.

We're heading for the mountains next, a whole new side of North Carolina we've yet to discover. I'm curious to see what new face will be shown to us as the scorching summer fades into fall. I miss my mountains more than ever at this time of year and, ok, I'll admit it, I would head home in a heartbeat if Erik said he was ready to go but I know that we're on this grand adventure to meet new people, see new places, and appreciate new faces in the hopes that our world is broadened and enriched by each experience that we're willing to soak in. So, I'm pulling back my hair, slapping on some make-up and holding out my hand, hoping that North Carolina will put on her party dress and whirl me into autumn beneath the Great Smoky Mountains, showing this westerner how it's done in the South.