Moonstruck in Montana

Wow! What a ride!

2011-12-28T16:59:00.000-07:00

"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!

Making Pastry

2011-05-04T16:34:00.000-06:00

For the past four weeks, every Wednesday I kiss the dogs goodbye, throw my overnight bag in the car and make the gorgeous two and a half hour drive from Dillon to Missoula. I love having that time to myself. I listen to our local NPR station, I daydream, I watch the drop-dead scenery roll by. Sometimes I turn off the radio, roll down the windows and just breathe in that cold, clear mountain air. Heaven. And it's about this time of day I've been rolling into Missoula heading for the fun, camaraderie and carb-loading of my new favorite past-time...the Posh Chocolat Pastry Class.

Sadly, this Wednesday's class was canceled so I figured I'd better get my behind in gear, go through the pictures and get that long over-due pastry class post done. Let's face it, I'd much rather be basking in the glory of rising pastry and whirling buttercream but, hey, looking at the pictures just reminds me of how much fun we're having and, oh!, the things we're learning.

We've gone through yeast breads, enriched breads, biscuits, muffins and cakes. I've learned how to make a Swiss Meringue Buttercream (something I've always been intimidated by) and how to fill a cream puff (always a good skill to have). My favorite lesson so far was making croissants and, especially, making Pain au Chocolat. Time consuming, yes, but so much fun. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.

Another aspect I'm thoroughly enjoying? Working in a warm, well-organized kitchen and baking with other women who don't think it's crazy to wax poetic over rising bread dough. We swap tips, share stories and laugh together over awkward attempts at new techniques. I look forward to their smiling faces as much as I look forward to the goody bags we get to take home at the end of a successful evening of baking. Who knew baking with friends could be so satisfying? Instead of book clubs, why aren't baking clubs taking off? Hmm, maybe I'll be the first to get the trend going.

So, Natalie, Jo, Marietta, Maggie and Chef Ana, since I can't be with you all tonight, I've put up a web album of our Wednesday fun for you to peruse and I will happily drink a toast in your honor. Here's to new friends and unrestrained baking! Cheers!

Day 1 of Unrealistic Optimism

2011-04-22T11:41:00.000-06:00

I started my "garden" yesterday. Nevermind that we got inches of snow two days earlier or that there was a Winter Storm Warning in effect for my region or that I live in a motorhome. Nope, it didn't deter me. That brilliant spring sunshine was glittering down, warming up my hair and hands and I looked over at the sad, listless cilantro that I'd been carting around and it was like a little bell sounded. DING! Time to garden!

I still find it surprising that even though I do live in a motorhome, that desire to get my hands in the dirt is as strong as ever. I'm like a baby sea turtle that will not be stopped from getting his flippers in the salty sea. I must garden even if it means I garden contained. Not my favorite but, hey, what's a travelin' gardener to do?

Not sure if I told you about this but, to add to my garden fever and in true optimistic gardening fashion, this year I took up dig this chick's challenge of the Virgin Harvest and decided to commit to attempt my vegetable garden in containers. Have you signed up? It's not too late!

So, my first challenge? (Well, besides the weather and the cramped, movable living quarters with lack of garden space). What should I use as containers? Hmmm, this was a tough one. Being mobile presents issues all on its own like limited storage space and the need for recyclable gardening containers. When the harvest is over, I just can't take them all with me and I wanted to find something I could use that would recycle easily at the end of the growing season, was portable enough to move around, was cheap (I really didn't want to sink a ton of money into pots or materials only to leave it all behind) and yet would give the mature plants enough depth of root to flourish. So, I racked my brain and came up with...milk cartons. What do you think? I know they won't work so well for lettuce and spinach but for the squash, tomatoes and herbs, I'm going to give them a try. By the way, any and all suggestions for alternative gardening containers from my fellow green gardeners out there would be greatly appreciated!

So, with the spring sunshine warming our skin, the dogs and I (well, they just laid there and supervised but, hey, I appreciated the moral support) hauled out the supplies and the lackluster herb plants and...ahem...dug right in.

A shell I picked up on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Beautiful and functional. I love it!

The day before, on my trip to Missoula for my pastry class (the post is coming, I promise!), I stopped at our lovely version of a Whole Foods market and came across some seed packets that I just could not say no to. Again, unrealistic optimism at its finest. Even in our home, growing seedlings was a shitload of work and why I think I can be successful in a drafty, always cold motorhome is beyond my comprehension. Be that as it may, for better or for worse, the seeds made the trip from the Good Food Store to the Dillon KOA and were promptly, and with great ceremony, cooing and encouragement, deposited in tin cans originally meant for the recycle bin but which have now, instead, been drafted into duty as seed starting containers. We'll see. If they even sprout, it will be a small miracle but...I have hope.

I am happy to report that the herbs looked immediately happier and more content in fresh soil with room to grow but I am sad to report that in a blatant attempt to quash my gardening optimism, no sooner did I have everyone planted, labeled and watered, Mother Nature let loose with an almighty thunderstorm and my freshly contained, baby-stage garden, the lazy dogs and I had to run for cover. Then we all watched dejectedly through the window as cold rain fell and the temperatures dropped. ....sigh...

But, that's ok. I'm still clinging to my unrealistic optimism.

What's For Dinner? Vegetarian Chili

2011-04-19T19:51:00.000-06:00

As a vegetarian, I get asked a lot, "Well, what do you eat?" No joke, people really do ask me that question. It's always amused me a bit but now I'm also being asked for recipes as more and more people have started looking at healthier meal options.

Look, I'm warning you right now that I am in no way a great cook. Baker, sure, I can hold my own but cooking? It's just not something I do for fun. You're going to find that most of my meal ideas are quick, don't have a ton of ingredients, and aren't too involved. With that being said, I thought I'd occasionally post a recipe or two for those who have asked (you know who you are) and tonight, it's one of my go-to meals, Vegetarian Chili. Simple, easy, hot and filling. Plus, it is one of those recipes that I love to call my One-Pot Wonders. Hope you enjoy!

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 or 1 whole jalapeno pepper, seeds removed, diced (optional and depending on how hot you want your chili. I usually go for the whole)
1/2 pasilla chile, seeds removed, diced (optional)
Coarse salt and ground pepper
2 zucchini, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise
2 carrots, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 cans (19 ounces each) black beans, rinsed and drained or 1 can of black beans and 1 can of kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (28 ounces) organic diced or crushed tomatoes
1 cup of water
Avocado, sliced (optional)
Shredded cheddar cheese (optional)

Directions

1. In a 5-quart heavy soup pot, heat oil over medium-high. Add onion, garlic, jalapeno and pasilla chile; season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until they begin to soften, about 4 minutes.

2. Add zucchini, carrots, chili powder, and cumin. Cook, stirring occasionally, until carrots are crisp-tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Add beans, tomatoes and water. Simmer for 20 minutes until chili has thickened and ingredients have melded.

3. Ladle into bowls and top with sliced avocado and/or shredded cheddar cheese and serve with warm corn tortillas if you're not afraid of carbs (Erik does, I don't...sigh...)

Delish!

Cruising Home and Settling In

2011-04-15T14:21:00.000-06:00

We made it! Ahh, our feet are firmly and happily planted on Montana soil once again and we haven't stopped moving since we arrived. We've reconnected with friends and family, I've started my pastry class (more on that soon!), we went and checked out the old motel we bought (that's a whole post on its own) and Erik even raced in the Rocky Mountain Roubaix.

I'm still trying to unpack and settle us in our new location, Dillon, MT but here are a few photos of our roadtrip home and our first week back.

We went from this....

...to this. Well, hello, Dillon.


Our movable sporting good store

Downtown Durango. Finally, mountains and microbrews!

We went treasure hunting in Gallup, NM. I just couldn't resist these beauties.

What?! Green grass and no stickers? Riley thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

The new project, Hotel Albert.

Racing the Rocky Mountain Roubaix

Life is sweet thanks to my new friends at Posh Chocolat.

Everybody Challah! Loving my pastry class. Yes, mine's the round one in the middle.

Oh, those Pioneers! Looking forward to getting to know you better.

A view out my window

Sneaking off for a little fishing. This is our new backyard.

Evening fly-fishing. At least I'll know where to find him.

See you later, Clovis

2011-04-01T10:34:00.001-06:00

So, yea, it's been..um...fun to get to know you but I've really gotta go now. Oh, sure, yea, maybe someday we can do lunch....NOT!

My time in Clovis, NM. This about sums it up.

Can I Get a "Hell, Yea!"?

2011-03-24T09:58:00.000-06:00

Chocolate Truffles of love

I know, I know, baking and chocolate, you know I love it, I obsess over it, I lay in bed at night dreaming up chocolate fantasy concoctions. Yada, yada, yada. You've heard it all before and I know I've gone on and on about the baking ban. But, folks, I'm about to take it to a whole new level...

I received an innocent email from our local artisan chocolate and pastry chef in Missoula (Posh Chocolat, check 'em out) announcing that she will be conducting a six week class in the art of all things holy...like chocolate-making AND french pastry AND yeast breads AND...wait for it, tortes and cakes. I passed out. I came to. I passed out. I came to. I passed out. I woke to find the dog licking my face and I jumped up, hit reply and screamed (in written form of course...well, to be honest, I might have screamed it out loud as well), "SIGN ME UP!!!" (Please, the ban had no chance. None, whatsoever. Don't judge me.)

And not knowing the level of crazy obsession that she's dealing with, she did. She signed me up. So starting April 6th not only will I be home (HALLELUJUAH!), I will be sashaying my way around and around a commercial kitchen with the loves of my life (sorry, Erik, but you should know this by now): butter, sugar, flour and, of course, chocolate.

Oh, sweet god, please tell me I'm not dreaming!

Beauty Shines Through

2011-03-16T10:20:00.001-06:00

"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

2011-03-10T08:58:00.001-07:00

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.

When All Else Fails...Make Biscuits

2011-03-02T16:15:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was one of those days. I know you know what I'm talking about. The kind of day that just struggles against your best efforts to smooth its ruffled edges. You try, you take deep breaths, you tell yourself this is just a lesson in patience. You go through your routine doing your best to jump the hurdles that come your way. When the dog you spent an hour brushing out so she would look presentable at her doctor's appointment walks over and lays right in the dusty, red dirt the moment you turn your back, what else can you do but mutter a curse word and sigh?

No problem, it's cool. You've got this. And when you climb into your little shower looking forward to washing away the red dirt and dog hair and the owner of the RV park decides to cut the water at the exact moment that you have whipped your hair into a frothy lather and are about to rinse...well, all I can say is those curse words do come in handy, don't they?

You get through it. You move forward. You get to the vet appointment early. And when the 15 minute vet appointment turns into an hour and a half allergy-inducing test of will for all involved, what else can you do but suck it up and smile? Moving on. You're now late and the dogs are on their last nerves. You're barely hanging on to the last thread of your sanity but you're doing it. You're not down yet. You fight the evening traffic to get across town in time to pick up the hubby.

And when you finally...finally... manage to get the hot, traumatized canines and the equally hot and traumatized hubby all home only to realize that somewhere in between the torture of the vet and the retrieval of the spousal unit, you were supposed to hit the market so you have something to cook for dinner...well, I suggest you do what I did. Just throw in the towel and make biscuits.

Buttermilk biscuits. Hot, fluffy goodness that solves all problems. Add a vege scramble and a glass of chilled white wine and all of a sudden those ruffled edges of a rough day are as smooth as one of Martha Stewart's tablecloths. I've been asked to start posting my recipes so here's my favorite buttermilk biscuit recipe (not sure where I picked it up but I've been using it for years). I hope it can ease some ruffled edges on a rough day for all of you too.

Heaven-sent Buttermilk Biscuits

4 c all-purpose flour

4 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp sugar

1 c (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into little pieces

2 c buttermilk

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In a medium bowl, whisk together dry ingredients. Using a pastry knife, cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

Add the buttermilk and stir until mixture just comes together. Don't overmix and don't worry that batter is sticky. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and use floured hands to pat the dough to a 1-inch thickness. No need to roll it out. I use a 2-5/8 biscuit cutter but any 2-1/2" glass or round cookie cutter would work as well.

Place biscuits on baking sheet and bake at 375 degrees for 18 to 20 minutes until they're lightly, golden brown. Cool on wire rack and...EAT UP. Delicious.

I Am An Athletic Supporter

2011-02-25T08:46:00.001-07:00

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.

Some Red Velvet Lovin'

2011-02-14T10:36:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, Valentine's Day...a celebration of love replete with wine, chocolate and flowers. It's no secret that I look forward to it every year since it really is my "get of of jail free" card to indulge in all of the aforementioned vices with complete and utter abandon. And let's not forget, it also allows me to indulge in another of my not-so-secret addictions...baking high caloric, and very much forbidden if I EVER want to fit into my bikini, treats. Seriously, I would love to track down whichever marketing guru came up with this concept and give them a big, fat, wet kiss on the mouth. I couldn't have dreamed up a better scam myself.

And this year, in honor of having spent the last half of the year in, or straddling, the south (North Carolina and Texas respectively), I decided to treat my honey to a little southern style lovin'...that's right, folks, the oh-so-lovely and much revered, Red Velvet Cake...with a twist. Since I'm working with an oven the size of a postage stamp, I decided to switch it up and do Red Velvet, CUPCAKE-STYLE (insert drawl here).

Like the big hair and pageant makeup of Texas, there is something charmingly sweet yet shocking about this unnaturally red batter that rises into this moist, cocoa-flavored scarlet star. Topped with the luscious, creamy, tangy frosting and accessorized with raspberries and chocolate, I felt liked I'd given life to the newest Dallas debutante. You just couldn't help but stare. I decided to call it my Shock and Awe campaign. And the hubby really was shocked and awed after months of living through the much-dreaded and long-lived baking ban.

As I pulled out my ill-treated and dusty Kitchen-Aid, the euphoria of climbing back into the baking saddle was a heady and seducing sensation. Now this is what I call love, people. Me, my Kitchen-Aid and all those lovely ingredients lined up like little soldiers just begging to be sifted, whipped and coaxed into a mouth-watering, irresistible, edible work of art. Oh, baby, how I've missed you!

And, lest we not forget the absolute beauty and fulfilment of my Shock and Awe campaign, the look on Erik's face as he sank his teeth into the lovely goodness of my humble offering and the giddy, love-filled, cream cheese smile he gave me as he savored the bite made me all the more grateful for the greedy capitalist that invented this glorious day. So, I say to hell with pretending to be immune to all of the pink and red trappings and gaudy, heart-shaped symbolism associated with this infamous holiday. I plan to strap my love-gun on my hip and wriggle into my "I'm a Valentine's Day Whore" t-shirt (pink with red hearts all over it) and proudly proclaim for all to hear, "LET THEM EAT CAKE! RED CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE HEARTS ON IT!"

Wishing you all a Happy Valentines Day, whether you're a believer or not!

And, Erik, so glad you're mine and I love you.....

Poor Me Sucks It Up

2011-02-12T09:06:00.000-07:00

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

2011-02-02T15:40:00.000-07:00

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

2010-12-28T11:07:00.002-07:00

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

2010-12-24T07:42:00.000-07:00

Curry It Up

2010-10-20T09:57:00.000-06:00

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

2010-09-24T10:11:00.000-06:00

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

2010-08-27T11:43:00.007-06:00

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.

Zootown

2010-05-20T07:38:00.007-06:00

We took a little trip home this past weekend to take care of some business and reconnect with friends and family. The drive was gorgeous as usual and I must say Missoula was in fine form!

I'm crazy over the Crazies! What a beautiful mountain range.

Kay and I enjoying coffee and treats at Bernices

My brother Tom on the Higgins St bridge

Party at Caras Park

Whitewater competition on the Clark Fork

Fiesta with friends and family at El Cazador

The Wilma looking majestic in the late afternoon sunlight

Running our favorite trail in Pattee Canyon

Daisy and Emma bringing up the rear

Ahhh, the drive home. Exhausted but oh so content.

Friends, family and a wonderful hometown. Who could ask for anything more?

Ode to My Xtra Tufs

2010-05-06T14:56:00.006-06:00

Ah, fickle spring. It snowed here today and as I watched my dogs frolic like maniacs while I stood ankle deep in white stuff and froze my ass off, I looked down at my ugly, brown boots and thanked my lucky stars that my good friend, Nadia, has the gift to look past the trappings and see the beauty of utilitarian. This one's for you, Nod!

Ode to My Xtra Tufs

Yes, I first said "Pooh, pooh!" when Nod said, "Oh, I do!" to those brown rubber boots in a row.
So ugly, so plain, my friend must be insane
to want footwear with no sizzle, no show.

Cause I'm just a girl who loves shoes.
Sandals with heels make me coo.
And these boots cause a fright,
such a horrible sight,
clunky rubber the color of poo!

But, alas!, oh how wrong could I be?
And this point was shown clearly to me
when the skies opened up,
that rain could have drowned a duck!
And my tootsies were wet as can be.

The mud, how it sucked at my heels.
Patent leather's no match for this deal.
And when it started to snow
I cried out "Oh no!"
and tore off to the store with a squeal.

And now there's no weather too buff.
No amount of rain, of snow is enough.
And when the storm clouds roll in
I just look up and grin
cause this girl's rockin' her Xtra Tufs!

Nadia, rockin' HER Xtra Tufs in Ketchikan

No Way, Jose!

2010-04-29T09:09:00.006-06:00

I can't do it. No way, no how. Not happening. Nope. Uh uh, no, no, no. You can't make me....go inside. I just can't bring myself to stay inside when there is so much going on outside. Not to mention the scenery is drop dead gorgeous. So my laundry is piling up, my email is overflowing, my articles need to be written and the bookkeeping? Forget it!

Ah, springtime! The sun is shining, the birds are out in force and the wildflowers are blooming. I would be crazy to miss a SECOND of it. And my canine partners in crime feel no guilt in luring me outside to play, swim and explore. Not that I resist much...if at all. C'mon, can you blame me?

So, every morning I wake up and run through the list of all the things that must be accomplished that day. I have steely resolve as I leash up the troops to take our morning walk, telling myself that we won't dilly dally, that we'll go out, they'll do their business and we will come right back in and I'll get straight to work. Everything is going fine until that first soft, fragrant spring breeze swirls around me, tempting me to do a little happy dance. Then the contingent of robins start in with their "Good morning!" trills. The sun is just rising and casts a golden rosy glow on the landscape around me. Ahhh, heaven!

We make it through the field of newly blossoming wildflowers and step into the woods, heading for the river. The dogs are darting and sniffing and frolicking and I happily trail along behind them noticing which trees are starting to leaf out, watching the red fox dart across the wash, and listening to the local woodpecker tap, tap, tapping on the snag above me. There is a little herd of deer that we run into every day that stare cautiously back at us as we meander along. And once we hit the river, oh glory! The breeze brings fresh, new scents, the sun warms my face and the Canadian geese fly over honking encouragingly at each other.

If we're lucky, the beaver and his little beaver family are swimming nearby. He never fails to startle the crap out of me by slapping the water as loudly as he can with that monstrous tail of his (I think he gets some sort of sick amusement out of watching me jump and contort all Kramer-like). It's such a shock in the quiet stillness of the dewy morning but once he does it and gets his cheap laugh, he goes about his beaver morning and leaves us to enjoy our solitude.

At this point I realize my resolve is slipping and I round up the troops and we start making our way back home. I do usually get us back to get the breakfast served and the coffee brewed, to kiss the hubby as he heads off on his bike to work and sometimes I even get myself to sit down in front of the computer. I'm set, I'm ready, I have my list of all the things I need to get done right in front of me....and then I look up and get an unobstructed view of all the action taking place just beyond the glass. No! Focus! Must....get....through....list....

And that's when I feel a little nudge and I look down to see big, brown eyes looking hopefully up at me. Just one quick run, they seem to say. Just a quick sniff, a turn around the campground to see what's new. And I know I should resist. I KNOW I have a ton to get done...but.....I find myself lying on a patch of grass, with the sun sprinkling down on me through the new leaves that have just sprung and a dog, or two, or three rolling happily on their backs beside me, loving life, loving where this adventure has taken us and I just close my eyes and breathe it all in.

I can start on my list tomorrow......

Cast Iron and Cornbread

2010-04-19T10:03:00.005-06:00

As I wander about exploring this new area we've landed in, I just can't resist diving into the local antique and junk stores. I've been on a quest for a long time now to find old cast iron pans since, as I've bemoaned previously, none were passed on through my family. I've hit stores from California to Alaska and back and, sure, I've run across them here and there but most dealers understand the treasure that they're selling and want to catch a sap like me who will be willing to slap down sixty bucks for a dutch oven...missing its cover, no less! Outrageous, I say, so I move on and the treasure hunt continues.

Well, let me tell you that I recently hit the motherlode! I guess it stands to reason that in this area of homesteaders and ranchers, cast iron is as ubiquitous as cowboy boots and bison. To me, though, it was as if I was a miner and I had just hit a huge vein of gold. When, in poking around one of the local stores, my good sport of a husband casually strolled over to me with a corn cob cast iron pan in his hand and asked, "Isn't this what you've been looking for?", I swear I almost fainted. And when I took a look at the price tag and it was less than ten bucks, I let out a whoop that shook the rafters.

I pranced around that shop with that pan clutched tightly in my hands and couldn't believe my luck as we uncovered more and more cast iron jewels just begging to be taken home, cleaned up and put back in service. Ok, sure, we live in a motorhome with a kitchen the size of a postage stamp but, c'mon, who am I to say no to a hardworkin' piece of historic cookware that just wants to get back in the game?

So, I packed those suckers up, got a good arm workout to boot, and headed home to try them out. Umm, let me just say, it was everything I've ever dreamed it to be. I made cornbread in the corn cob pans and paired it with a hearty bean stew and Erik and I gobbled it up, licked our fingers.... and dove in for more. Oh, man, is there anything better than hot-out-of-the-oven, crispy, fluffy and mouthwatering cornbread....drenched in butter? Ok, yea, yea, there goes the diet and I'll have to run from here to Missoula and back to work it off but whateva! It was SO worth it and, hey, let's not forget I burned those calories hauling those babies home.

So, I am FINALLY the proud, new owner of ancient cast iron and couldn't be happier with my new kitchen accoutrement. Don't get me wrong, I'm still on the prowl for my holy grail of cast iron... a small dutch oven WITH a lid that will fit in my motorhome's Easy Bake oven but, for now, I will bask in the glow of knowing that if my life depended on my making skillet biscuits or crispy cornbread, I am SO on it.

Now, on to the next issue...where the heck to store all of them... Hmm, maybe Erik will make some room in his bicycle equipment storage bin. I mean, really, cast iron or a bicycle tube? No contest if you ask me!

Back under the Big Sky

2010-04-08T09:11:00.010-06:00

We made it. Back to Big Sky Country and just have to say it's nice to be, well, home. Ok, not in my beloved Missoula and postcard perfect Western Montana but, still, under that glorious big sky and surrounded by those huge rivers, wide open spaces and, oh, those magical, mystical mountains. Friendly people, strong espresso and miles and miles and miles of trails to explore. Absolute heaven.

There is just something about this state that speaks so loudly and clearly to me. As we crossed the state line and Monida Pass in her icy winter finery spread out around us, I took a deep breath and just knew, yes, this is it. So far, in all of our travels nothing has come close to replacing Montana in my heart. Ok, yes, those Southern California beaches hold a special place (especially in the winter when my feet have been numb for MONTHS!) but, when play time is over, it's Montana that I want to come home to.

I can definitely say I'm still moonstruck in Montana......

Our new backyard

Chloe (above) and Riley (below) resting up for the next tracking expedition

On the hunt

Home Sweet Home

Even the plants are happy

Hand Me Downs

2010-03-11T09:04:00.012-07:00

Grandma's paring knife

Being the only girl born between two brothers, hand-me-downs weren't really part of my daily life. In fact, when I did happen to acquire something passed on by my older, very stylish and much-admired friend, Margaret, I cherished it above all else. I wore my Chemin de Fers (anyone remember those?) until the material was transparent and despite the fact they didn't fit my shorter, curvier frame they way they molded to Margaret's tall, willowy, modelesque figure. I worshipped the white and lemon-yellow striped sweater she casually passed over to me and I can still feel that giddy, I-can't-believe-she-gave-this-to-me feeling as I type this. I wore that poor sweater until the gust of a strong wind would have blown it apart.

And so it has gone throughout my life. My most treasured possessions are not the shiny, spankin' new, of-the-moment, latest "it' things. They are the items that have been passed down, passed on, have some history behind them, have a story to tell. I buy antique furniture and wonder who used to love it, I gaze longingly at old silverware and china sets and wonder what celebrations they were used for, and, oh, to hear the stories that were told around them. I live (when not on the road) in a little, old Victorian house with intricately carved door moldings and baseboards and I wonder which craftsman worked so painstakingly on them. I'm even addicted to old photographs. The people staring out at me are not of my blood but I long to know their story. What were they thinking when the cameraman snapped that shot? And better yet, where are they now and how was their life after they stepped away from that captured moment in time?

Home

No surprise then that it was with much interest that I was reading Clotilde's (Chocolate and Zucchini) post about how she came to acquire a beautiful marble mortar that her grandmother found buried in her garden in Marseille, France in 1937. It was such a touching story and it made me regret my own family's lack of cooking tradition. Unfortunately, in my house, cooking was a necessity, not a joy, and if opening a box or a packet or a can could make the ordeal any easier, it was used enthusiastically. Thus, I have very few kitchen hand-me-downs; my grandmother's paring knife, a heart-healthy pie crust recipe and a Joy of Cooking (yes, I see the irony) cookbook from my aunt and little else.

Kay and her favorite guy, Terry

To make up for this lack of kitchen heirlooms, I started raiding the history of other families by collecting their family recipes. One of my dearest friends, Kay, generously shared a bread recipe that was passed on to her 45 years ago by her aunt, Lorraine Thompson, of Petersburg, AK. Kay grew up in that tiny fishing village on an island in the middle of Alaska's Inside Passage, and with its strong Norwegian heritage, tradition and history are valuable commodities. I was absolutely thrilled to be entrusted with it and this recipe has become a staple in my baking repertoire.

In honor of all of you out there who might not have a rich family kitchen heritage, I am humbly handing down Kay's kick-ass bread recipe (with her gracious permission) and hope it becomes as treasured a hand-me-down to you as it has become to me. Make it with love, people!
Aunt Lorraine Thompson's Brown Bread Recipe

3 cups lukewarm water (110-115 degrees)
1 pkg active dry yeast
1 cup milk, scalded
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup molasses
1 1/2 tsp salt
2 tbsp oil (I use olive oil)
3 cups whole wheat or rye flour
8 to 9 cups all-purpose flour

(I half this recipe since it's only the hubby and me and it works great. FYI, I still use the whole pkg of yeast but half everything else, using 4 cups of all-purpose flour to start)

Stir the yeast into the water and set aside to proof (approximately 5 minutes). Combine milk, brown sugar, molasses, salt and oil in a bowl (I do this directly in the bowl of my KitchenAid which, by the way, was a hand-me-down) and stir to dissolve. Add proofed yeast mixture, whole wheat or rye flour and 8 cups of the all-purpose flour. Mix (with dough-hook if using your KitchenAid) until well-combined and it has formed a ball.

At this point, Kay uses her KitchenAid to knead it until the dough is smooth, I turn the dough out on a floured-surface and start kneading by hand, adding additional flour as needed. If kneading by hand, knead for approximately 7 to 10 minutes or until the dough is smooth and elastic.

Oil a large bowl and put dough in it, turning it once to coat. Cover with a cloth and let sit overnight or at least until it has doubled in size (approx 1 to 1-1/2 hours).

In the morning (or once doubled in size), punch dough down and divide into 3 to 4 loaves. Put into greased bread pans, cover with cloths and let rise again until double in size (approx 45 min).

Bake at 325 degrees for 45 minutes. Transfer pans to a wire rack and let cool in pans for 5 minutes then turn out loaves onto wire rack to finish cooling.

Eat and enjoy, knowing that many other people in places far, far away have eaten and enjoyed it as much as you. Cool, huh? Gotta love hand-me-downs.

Thanks and much love to you and your family, Kay. My life is richer and fuller because of you.

Wildflower Safari

2010-03-01T09:15:00.007-07:00

One of the best things about this Grand Adventure that we're on is getting the opportunity to explore places we might not make the effort to get to if we were at home. This weekend, we headed out to Anza-Borrego Desert State Park and went on a wildflower safari!

I can't even begin to tell you how much fun it was to stalk, with camera in hand, through the wild desert landscape and come upon a mass of blooming flowers. It was like the ultimate Easter Egg Hunt with a twist. You had to be very careful where you were walking and take a good look before you knelt down (yes, I learned this the hard way!) because the number of plants and animals that are willing to run you through and take you down out there are innumerable. And let me just say that pulling Cholla cactus spines out of any body part is not a pleasant experience. I still find myself looking carefully where I'm stepping. (Can you be psychologically damaged from a wrestling match with a cactus?)

The other thing that stuck with me (yuck, yuck) is that the majority of these flowers are so delicate, and so fleeting. In such a harsh landscape, you expect the big strong cactus and creosote bushes and agave but stumbling upon flowers with paper-thin petals and delicate tiny leaves was so surprising...and confounding.

Another interesting dynamic was seeing a delicate, beautiful flower perched on top of a frightful plant body. It was like the face of a supermodel with Rambo's appendages. Bizarre and strangely disturbing. Take the Desert Lily, for example. Those leaves! What the hell is that? I was afraid to take my eyes off of it for fear that, when I wasn't looking, it would slither over , grab my ankle and toss me into the closest cactus. Creepy!

With all of the rain this year, they should have a bumper crop of color extravaganza out there in the desert so if you happen to be heading to this corner of the world between late February to about mid-March, it really is worth the effort to get out and stalk that elusive desert sunflower! Happy almost Spring!

If you want more info, check out my article at Examiner.com. For more photos, I put up a web album here. Yes, I went crazy with the photos. Over 200. I just couldn't stop. I was like a soon-to-be bride at the basement sale of Filene's. But, not to worry, I only put up about 35 or so.

The Magic of Simplicity

2010-02-22T22:37:00.008-07:00

"Simplicity means the achievement of maximum effect with minimum means."—Koichi Kawana

How is it that the combination of seemingly innocuous and unrelated ingredients can combine to make the most delicious and satisfying nourishment? And I'm not just talking "satisfying nourishment" for the body but also for the soul.

Let's take pizza, for example. On the surface, it's just some very basic plain jane ingredients mixed together then baked in a hot oven. Take flour, salt, yeast, throw in some water, let rise, roll out and top with garlic, cheese, some tomatoes and a sprinkle of an herb or two, throw in the oven and, Voila!, magic. That rough day you had? Forgotten. Been craving something you can sink your teeth into? Done.

Nothing spectacular used to create it, no eye of newt or dragon's blood so where exactly does the Bibbity Bobbity Boo come in? Is it just me, or does the rising dough, all warm and yeasty, fluffy and puffy make you feel contented, happy, expectant? How about proud at the way you managed to stir some flour, water and yeast together and now your dough is rising like the phoenix from the ashes and you get to watch this transformation taking place before your eyes?

As I chop the garlic and grate the cheese, the aromas rise up and swirl around me filling our tiny kitchen with the scents of dinner, of home, of coziness. I walk outside to gather some of the herbs dancing happily in the evening breeze and their bouquet coats my fingers and blends with the cheese and garlic to create a symphony of savory perfume.

Now the magic is really picking up steam. The subtle mixing of flavors whispering promises of amazing and mouthwatering results. Into the oven, and the incantations begin, "Is it done yet?, How much longer? Oh, I can't wait, my stomach's growling. Wow, it looks so good". My husband does the requisite pizza dance. With oven mitt on hand, he peeks and peers through the tiny oven window, pacing back and forth while chanting some of the aforementioned incantations.

And, then...Bing!...the moment has arrived. Those simple, solitary ingredients have melded and transformed into a hot, spicy, tasty, gooey delicious circle of comfort and love, nourishment for both the body and soul.

I smile lovingly at my husband and he smiles happily back at me....then we both lunge for the biggest slice.

Magic in the simplest of moments....

A Blister for Valentines Day

2010-02-17T09:10:00.010-07:00

For Valentines Day. my husband gave me a blister. Yep, no roses, no romance just a blister. And, quite frankly, I'm still wondering how it happened.

I'm usually much more savvy and wary than that. Look, when living with a mutant superhuman who thinks nothing of going out and running marathons before breakfast, one develops a keen sense of self-preservation because the mutant superhuman is ALWAYS trying to talk their normal and sane partner into doing extremely ridiculous and dangerously uncomfortable events....like hiking to the top of Mt. Whitney with a 40lb pack strapped to your back ("because it's there and wouldn't you like to say you've been to the top of the tallest peak in the lower 48?"), or doing the Australian Wobbly Wine Cycling Tour ("See, it clearly states "no fitness required"". For the record, those Australians are lying bastards! I swear it was like racing Lance Armstrong up Mont Ventoux in the Tour de France....tipsy) or zip-lining through a Central American rainforest with a couple of local teens who had strung some wire up in the canopy and thought it was fun to go balls-out wearing nothing more than a climbing harness and a leather glove they had found in the barn hoping against hope today was not the day the line would snap and send us all crashing to the forest floor at least 1/4 mile below us....oh wait, that was my idea. Shit, well, that was only because my mutant superhuman husband must have spiked my drink and the heat and humidity had muddled my brain. Let's move on.

So, the blister. I vaguely remember him excitedly jabbering about all the races he was going to enter in the next few months but, since this is a weekly conversation, I was distractedly answering yea, yea, yea while painting my toenails and trying to watch the next contestant on American Idol make an ass of himself. I also do remember the words "5K" and "Walker friendly" being bandied about but I absolutely do NOT ever remember hearing "you are going to run a walker-friendly 5K...on VALENTINES DAY" Nope, I distinctly remember NOT hearing those words. He might have said something like, "I'm sending in the entrance form for you, ok?" But again, no mention of Valentines Day. None.

So, imagine my surprise when I finally got around to asking, "So, when is this 5k? and hearing the sheepishly mumbled reply, "Um, Feb 14th". Notice he didn't say, Valentines Day. Nope, he was hoping his normal and sane partner wouldn't recognise the date to which I say, "Are you effing kidding me?" I don't care what all of you haters out there say about good ol' V Day. I happen to think anyday that celebrates love....and the mass consumption of chocolate! should be celebrated EVERYDAY! In fact, I'm off to have some chocolate in St. Valentines honor right after this rant.

The fact that I didn't wring his neck goes to show the considerable restraint I've developed over the years. There's an Olympic event for you. And on February 14th, I found myself woken up not with breakfast in bed, not with a loving caress. Oh no, I was woken by my loving spouse yelling at me to get my butt up...at 5:15 in the MORNING...on a SUNDAY. Grrrr!

It always amazes me how many people are willing to wake up at ungodly hours to run around and punish their bodies. You can always tell the mutant superhumans because they're the ones stretching and jumping and running around to warm up and slapping each other on the backs and excitedly chattering about how fast they're going to be able to run. Take a valium, would ya! By contrast, the normal and sane people who have not had their coffee, shuffle around, avoiding eye contact, and huddle miserably together and grumble if anyone asks them a question.

Notice the mutant superhuman in the foreground. They're easy to spot.

And that's how I found myself in a park with a bunch of lunatics before the sun was fully up with an electronic monitoring device attached to my foot. Funny where life takes you, isn't it? So, since I was up, I went ahead and ran the Palm Springs 5K. And I had a good time. I think this was due to the fact that I wasn't awake yet.

Erik told me that if I made a break for the car, they'd track me down

It really was a beautiful morning and since the 5K course winds through the old Movie Colony neighborhood of Palm Springs, I had a great time looking at all of the houses (and of course the landscaping, as I'm crazy like that) as I huffed and puffed along.

And, as is usually the case when I get roped into these ridiculous and dangerously uncomfortable events, I learned a few things along the way . I discovered that irritation is a great motivator and that I could run quite fast to escape the bullshit yammerings of my fellow competitors (if the guy in the fluorescent yellow running shorts had told his wife to "pick it up" one more time, I would have clobbered him!). I discovered that it was the 4 year olds you really had to watch out for. They'll take you DOWN!

My competition. Notice he's in front of me but the kid was quick as lightening!

I discovered not looking at the race route map before you start running could add quite a lot of distance to your run!

Aren't we only running 3 miles?

And I discovered that if you just keep going, you'll eventually make it it to the finish line.

Me in my snazzy Skirtports capris.

Ok, so I didn't get roses and chocolate for Valentines Day this year. Big, fat bummer, yea, but what I did get was my sweaty high-five at the end of the not so grueling but still unnecessary run...and the satisfaction that my very own mutant superhuman was proud of me and happy that I was taking part (albeit small and begrudgingly) in something he loves more than I love chocolate (I told you he was a mutant!). Oh, and, of course, let's not forget that blister!

Love you, baby!

Valentines Magic

2010-02-12T12:09:00.009-07:00

Ahhh, breakfast!

So what happens when your new hobby, chocolate making, collides with your old, well-loved hobby of cookie baking? Magic...and a massive sugar rush...followed by the sugar crash of the century. With all the tasting I did, it took me two double espressos before I was able to be get motivated enough to finish. But after my heart started pumping again, I whipped these suckers right out!

I started off just dabbling with chocolate. I used both milk chocolate and white chocolate tinted with a pink icing color. (By the way, does anyone know of a line of food coloring that uses more natural ingredients? I just detest that chemical-y taste that some of the food colorings impart to your food. Plus, who KNOWS what you're ingesting! The FDA says it's safe but, frankly, I just flat out don't trust 'em. If anyone has any suggestions or has a favorite brand, could you please email me at inbetweendayz at hotmail dot com? Your suggestions would be much appreciated!).

After a few false starts, I managed to successfully pipe the chocolate into filigree hearts and circles then eventually graduated to writing. I have to say that the writing was the hardest part of the whole process. I'm a printer. I print EVERYTHING, from lists to love letters. Heck, I haven't written in cursive since 5th grade and wasn't even sure I remembered how but once I got my uncoordinated brain around the idea that the letters actually have to connect, the words just started flowing.

As the chocolate was left to cool and harden, I whipped up some sugar cookie dough and also the chocolate cookie dough I used for Valentines Day last year. Once the cookies were baked and cooled, it was time to decorate!

Remember the crafts table in Miss Barnett's first grade class? No? Well, too bad for you because it was AWESOME and this reminded me of it! Since I have no elaborate gardens to tend, sigh.... and yes! I'm still pouting so don't bug me about it, I have to find my zen place in other ways and this did the trick. Swirling and smearing and dotting and combining the chocolate with the iced cookies, it was like making those cut-out paper hearts at school and being so excited to run home and show them off.

Since I was duped by my trickster hubby into running a 5K on Valentines Day, (Who the heck organizes a race on Valentines Day?! You wanna know who? A husband who has run out of romantic ideas and figures putting on a race is a great way of skirting his romantic responsibilities! I swear, once I crawl over the finish line, I am going to stagger around until I find him and then I plan to clobber him with one of my cookies!), I probably won't have the strength to type. So, just in case I don't survive, I want to wish you all a very Happy Valentines Day. May your loved one give you something more than a sweaty high-five at the end of a grueling and unnecessary run.

Gardening Contained

2010-02-09T11:32:00.008-07:00

We had a little orchid mishap on our way home from Vegas a couple of weekends ago. The motorhome took a bump just a little too fast and the landing was a bit too much for the pot containing one of my orchids. Of course this meant I was given free rein to run right over to a local garden center to replace the pot. Yippee...cough, ack....I meant, too bad, so sad.

The culprit that started the whole thing, Cymbidium, Eastern Promise. (Promise of inciting riots if you ask me!)

I charged...umm, I mean, I meandered very calmly and sedately on over to Lowes with the specific purpose of purchasing a single replacement pot...and, of course, the potting medium needed to repot a Cymbidium and, well, I needed orchid food as I have been using a generic houseplant food for quite awhile now....and of course, if I'm repotting one then I really need to repot the other as you want them to match, don't you? And since I was getting new pots, I should definitely get the platters for the pots to sit in to catch the water because EVERYONE knows that orchids need humidity so if I just put some of those cute, little river pebbles that Martha suggested in the platters and then set the pots on top and let the water pool, my orchids would be much healthier and happier. But why in the world would I buy a tiny little bag of designer rocks when I could go outside to the landscaping area and get a huge bag for half the price?

And this, my friends, is where it all, shall we say, hit the fan. (Honey, if you're reading this, close the page and walk away from the computer. You know darn well you love fresh herbs as much as I do and some sacrifice has to be made to have them. Plus, I promise I will not buy one more plant for a whole year....well, with the exception of another strawberry plant because who can have just one for godssakes?)

And so, the doors leading out to the garden area slid open, and so did my resolve. The sight of all of those plants just begging, BEGGING, to be planted almost brought me to my knees. The POTENTIAL of each and everyone one of them called out to me, seducing me with visions of lush, vibrant gardens bursting with life. Oh, the fun, the absolute joy, of designing and planting! Zen gardens, formal gardens, country gardens, water-wise gardens, cactus gardens. It all swirled and danced before my eyes. And the scent!Oh people! The glorious smell of blooming flowers, fresh dirt, tantalizing herbs and living, breathing greenness drew me in and seduced me like the infamous siren's song of sailors lore. Yep, I was a shipwreck waiting to happen.

Disaster was, indeed, on the horizon as I ran out among the plants, breathing deeply and stroking velvety leaves. Citrus trees and jasmine and hibiscus and, heck, they even had a PLUMERIA! A plumeria, people! (I still don't know how I passed that one up!) But it was as I was pondering whether I should go for the trumpet vine to entice the hummingbirds or the gorgeous pale pink hybrid tearose that I can never pass up that the buzz-kill hit. Hello, I live in a motorhome! Not only that, we pick up and move every 3 months so planting an extensive garden was absolutely not going to happen. Oh, the humanity! I wanted to fall to my knees and weep! The desire to walk out, get in my car and drive back to my little house in Montana was never so strong.

And, then, a miracle happened! As quickly as the buzz was killed, the inspiration came....YES! A container garden! Nothing fancy, just a few...small...containers. Everyone needs some fresh herbs and veges in their lives and we, of motorhome persuasion, are no different, right?

So, I put the rosebush down, picked it back up, put it back down, argued with myself, put it in my cart, pushed it around, took it back and put it down then walked away from it and only looked back twice...sigh... then headed home with my new, more compact additions.

And the funny thing is, even without holes to dig and dirt to turn and elaborate gardens to plan, I still found that lovely place I go to when I garden. That place where time stands still and the commotion of the world around you quiets and it's just you, in a garden, with a plant smiling up at you and the deep rich smell of dirt filling your senses and the promise of what will be staring back at you.

So the moral of the story? I guess you don't need a large plot of dirt to be a gardener, that the little things in life are just as meaningful, that a rosemary plant can be a great substitute for a plumeria......who the heck am I kidding?! I swear if I wouldn't get arrested for digging up the golf course green at the country club next door, I'd be over there with my shovel and breaker bar at first light and I'd have that labyrinth I've been dying to try put in before you could say "floribunda"!

To all of you magicians of gardening contained, I salute you!

Chocolate Frenzy

2010-02-04T10:07:00.005-07:00

I'm addicted. I admit it. 100%, full-throttle, live it, breathe it, dream it addicted to chocolate. So there should be no surprise when I tell you of my new hobby.....chocolate making!

It started when I wandered past a heart-shaped chocolate mold and thought, Hmm, I could do that! And I did and I LOVE it! How fun it is to take the silky, fragrant, molten chocolate and shape it into wonderful little gems in all shapes and sizes. The scent of warm chocolate fills the motorhome and swirls out the windows making our neighbors lift their noses in the air and sniff deeply as they walk by. I love cleaning up and licking the bowls and spoons and my fingers and I love seeing the trays of cooling chocolates lined up in military rows with all the promise of their creamy lusciousness forming before my eyes. I love bagging the little nuggets of goodness in pretty little bags and passing them out and I love the smiles and excitement they bring and I love watching the pause as the receiver ponders the choice of which gem to pop in their mouth.

But, what I really love most? EATING THEM! Duh! Ok, enough typing. I'm off to tackle chocolate truffles.....

Full Moon Serenade

2010-01-30T11:18:00.002-07:00

Here's a little something inspired by a beautiful post by Bee House Hives which I found through Nici's Dig This Chick blog. Don't you just love the blogging community?

The moon shines down and sheds its beams
On a girl and her dogs by a Joshua Tree.
Just visitors to this arid land
Amazed at the sparkle of moonbeams on sand.

And where does this full moon find you?

It's Fun to Run in Different Places

2010-01-28T14:20:00.005-07:00

I found the above advertisement for JetBlue in one of my husband's running magazines and I liked it so much that I pulled it out and hung it on my closet door. And you know what? It IS fun to run in different places! I know it's been almost a year since my last post so let me catch you up to date.

Alas, the marathon never happened as we were assigned to Ketchikan, AK rather than the Anchorage area but I'm happy to report that I've continued to run. I am nowhere near gazelle status, in fact, I've hesitated for a long time to call myself a runner at all since, to watch me in action, you'd think I could probably make more progress at a fast walk but, screw it, I AM a runner. I wiggle into my skirtsport capris, strap on my running shoes, grab my visor...and I run...in different places...and, most of the time, it's fun!

Old US Hwy 2, Libby, MT

I've run on trails in the mountains of Northwestern, MT...

Salvage Trail, Ketchikan, AK

I've run on trails in Ketchikan, AK....

Beach off of Pierpont, Ventura, CA

I've run on the beaches in Ventura, CA....

Palm Desert, CA

And I'm currently learning to run on the streets in Palm Springs, CA.

Riley leading the way

I've run with my dogs, without my dogs, with bears, with seagulls, with eagles, past dolphins and orcas, surfers and golfcarts and cacti and pine trees and totem poles. And there are days when I'm just downright discouraged in my ability, my body, my...running. But through it all I've learned alot about myself and the beautiful thing is I'm still learning. Who knew trail-running would be a passion of mine, that I can get rid of a side stitch by concentrating on my breathing and taking deep breaths, that when I'm miserable and all I want to do is sit down...I can actually keep going, that even though I'm "not built for running", I'm doing it, that my legs are strong and the rhythmic crunch, crunch of my feet on gravel is a wonderful meditation in itself? So, I might not be winning any races anytime soon, and I still have to slink over to the "Large" clothing section in the running store but, so what! I'm a runner and I'm proud of myself and I'm going to keep running in different places because, damn it, it's fun!

Marathon Training (aka What the Heck Am I Thinking?)

2009-03-24T13:04:00.006-06:00

I’ve always admired runners. Real runners, the ones that gallop along covering mile after mile with spines erect and toned arms pumping. Those sleek gazelles, muscles contracting then stretching out in a ballet of mechanics, making the effort look almost…well… effortless. My husband is one of those gazelles and he has a multitude of friends just like him who think nothing about going out for a quick 20 miler….up the mountain…in the snow (and if you think I’m exaggerating, just check out his blog http://www.fishbikerun.blogspot.com/).

I have to admit, I have always enjoyed hanging out with these superhumans. They have this camaraderie, this connection, that’s infectious and yea, ok, I have secretly hoped that by just hanging out with them maybe some of their athletic prowess would seep into me, like osmosis. But, alas, to no avail. They’ve always been more than willing to include me in their after-run breakfasts, the after-race BBQ’s, or the night-before-the-marathon carbo loads. Unfortunately, they could then go off and burn 600 calories by sneezing while I’m left holding the caloric bag (or saddlebags, to be exact).

So, with summer coming and a desire to squeeze into a bikini at least once more before things start sagging so low I’d need a crane to get them back into place, I have decided to really get serious about exercising. Wow, you might think, you are so lucky to have access to all of these athletes and all of that knowledge but you, I will point out, are forgetting one simple fact. They are not mortal! What is a warm-up to them would land me in the hospital. I waddle, they fly. I jiggle, they stride. I wheeze and hack, they breeze and whack…palms together in a high five after completing that 50 mile trail run and then head off to get pizza and a beer. Do you see my dilemma?

Erik's Exercise Log I’m sure you can then understand that it was with some trepidation that I mentioned to Erik, after he told me that he was planning to run the Mayor's Marathon in Anchorage, that I might, and I stress, might, want to run the half-marathon. Having been married to me for awhile, unfortunately he has become wise to my ways and knows of my aversion to any sort of athletic endeavor, and the first thing he said was, “You know you’re going to have to train…and that means running”. Hrrmph! But, once he was sure I wasn’t drunk and just spouting off, he actually got excited and came up with a training program for me. Gulp!

So, here I am, on the brink of becoming a member of a group I’ve so long admired…a runner. Ok, wait, let’s not get carried away. More, like, a jogger. Yea, a jogger. I can embrace that for now. And I’m happy to report I made it through 2 days of Erik’s training program….and I didn’t die, or cramp up, or collapse on the trail. My dogs did wonder what new game this was as I tentatively strugg…I mean, strode, down the trail, but, heck, I was doing it and I believe there was even a slight breeze in my hair and a trickle of sweat on my brow. Now, I certainly won’t be high-fiving anyone anytime soon and I do still have 10 weeks and 5 days of his torture training left to go but I will cautiously admit that my first tentative foray into this scary new world was, dare I say….fun?

First Day Of Spring

2009-03-20T23:25:00.004-06:00

Spring is definitely springing here in the beautiful Sierra Nevadas. The weathermen are threatening more snow but I'm going to my happy place and will believe these 70 degree days aren't going to budge. All the local stores have started putting out their hardy annuals, varieties of bagged mulch and soil amendments and I have to admit I'm like a crack addict when it comes to that first sniff of rich, dark dirt. I want to grab my trowel and start digging! I knew I was in trouble when I caught myself with my nose pressed up against the glass of the local garden center wondering if I could possibly keep a hybrid tea rose alive in our rolling tin can that we now call home.

Ah, how I miss my garden right now! I'm certainly having a great time on the road but there is a piece of my heart left behind in the dirt of Missoula. I wonder if my crocus are up or if the tulips have started making an appearance, and if my little magnolia made it through this tough winter. So, to my gardening friends in Missoula, wish I was there to plot, plan, weed and turn that soil with you and please plant a pepper for me!

Happy Valentines Day

2009-02-14T22:29:00.001-07:00

The Grand Adventure

2009-02-12T11:43:00.003-07:00

For all of those who have wondered where the heck I've been and why I haven't posted for the last few months (by the way, thank you for the emails!), I am happy to tell you that Erik and our menagerie are off on a Grand Adventure! We quit our day jobs, put our house up for rent, bought a motorhome and packed up our 3 wacky dogs and have hit the road.

How are we able to do this, you ask? Well, because I have a kick-ass husband who is a very talented Physical Therapist, he was able to sign up to be a "contract" PT and, thus, can choose from assignments all over the US. The assignments are usually 3 months in length so it's a great way for us to experience an area that we wouldn't necessarily want to move to but have always wanted to get a taste of...like the South or New England or Alaska or New Mexico (can you tell I'm excited?).

So, our plan is to be on the road for the next couple of years and we've started a blog if you're interested in tracking our progress. I will still be posting to this blog but it will be a little more sporadically.

Thanks again to all of you who have shown your support and interest in my crazy ramblings and I look forward to keeping you enteretained as I progress on our Grand Adventure!

Time For Bed

2008-11-16T20:52:00.010-07:00

Well, another gardening season is coming to a close and it's time to say goodbye to my good flowery friends and wish them a nice, long, safe slumber. This time of year always makes me a bit melancholy, especially so this year as I am preparing to leave my garden for awhile to travel around on a great adventure, so I've let them stay up way past their normal bedtime. Now, some (i.e. the responsible ones), have already put themselves to bed and are snoozing away in their dormancy, but my roses are like giggly girls at a slumber party and I finally had to go out there and tuck them in and turn out the lights.

Armed with my trusty tools, I headed out into the garden one last time. Now, I know parents are not supposed to have favorites but I will admit that roses absolutely drop me to my knees. When healthy and in full-bloom, they are heartbreakingly beautiful and come in so many luscious colors and scents it's like trying to pick a ball-gown and a favorite perfume when I'm contemplating my next purchase. Ok, yes, they are a bit high maintenance (especially in Montana) but my roses at the end of the season remind me of a queen who has fallen on hard times. Her dress might be a bit tattered and torn from frost, aphids and powdery mildew but she valiantly fights off marauding dogs with her thorns and sends up blooms so gorgeous that there is no question who rules this garden. And as any good serf will, though it's time-consuming, back-breaking work, I gladly kneel at their feet and help them prepare for slumber.

I certainly wasn't alone, either, as I plucked, pruned and raked away. It was a rare sunny, slightly warm day so lots of the neighbors were also out getting ready to button down for the winter. My "challenging" neighbor, the one who is noisy and gregarious with absolutely no boundaries when it comes to helping himself from my garden or inviting himself in to my home, popped his head in to see if I might have any garden leftovers that he could have.

I took a break when he showed up and admired the handiwork on his own little abode. What is it about squirrels' nests that make them look so cozy? As the sun dropped and my little neighbor made his way home, I imagined him snuggled up tight in his little tree house.

Then one of my favorite neighbors dropped in for a little chit-chat and some preening.

And, of course the supervisors were on duty.

( Obviously, the grueling work schedule wore them out.)

So, another year has come and gone. My seedlings, the ones I worried and fussed over, are now done, the tomatoes, peppers, squash, lettuce, etc long since a distant memory and tonight I pulled the last of the carrots. Since the roses have finally gone to bed and the rest of the flowers are safely sleeping, I guess I can put down my pruning shears and call it a day. Goodnight, my friends, sweet dreams and I'll see you soon!

Stories and Stones

2008-11-08T09:09:00.008-07:00

Missoula Cemetery

It's a rainy Saturday morning, cold and damp with snow swirling on the higher peaks around us, so I figured I'd grab my fuzzy slippers and another cup of espresso and settle down to blog.

And this blog is going to be about one of our local Missoula treasures...the Missoula Cemetery.

What?!! A cemetery?!, you might exclaim but I say, Yes, a cemetery! Established in 1884, not only is it a lovely place for an afternoon stroll with its ornate headstones and rows of big, old maples but at least once a year, it's as if your history book comes alive.

Every Fall, volunteers bring to life the stories of deceased patrons. From the Missoula Madam, Mary Gleim, to Missoula's very own serial killer, Wayne Nance, to Missoula's founding fathers which range from architects to Civil War soldiers and, of course, the one I'm most fascinated with, Jeanette Rankin, the first woman elected to Congress in a time before women even had the right to vote! Heck, to this day, we even have a lovely store dedicated to her and her pursuit of peace, Jeanette Rankin Peace Center. And, might I add, this makes it all the more dear to my heart after taking part in the most exciting election I have had the honor of participating in...Yes, we can! May our President-Elect carry us gracefully through a new era of peace, compassion and hopefulness. But, I digress...

My good friend Lori, and her daughters, Emily and Audrey, accompanied me on this Fall afternoon to Stories and Stones at the Missoula Cemetery. It was a gorgeous autumn day and we all had a lovely time kicking our way through fallen leaves as we wandered around with the other Missoulians listening to the stories of lives from long ago. There were hay rides to be taken and goodies to be nibbled and they even provided the kids with paper and crayons so they could make etchings of the stones.

Emily making an engraving

This is one of the many reasons I love this little town I live in. Friends and neighbors getting together in a postcard perfect setting to celebrate the lives we share now and the lives of those who came before us. Thanks Lori, Emily and Audrey for sharing your time, stories and smiles with me!

Dinner and a Show

2008-10-05T16:16:00.003-06:00

My brother, Tom, and I decided to wander downtown Saturday night to grab some dinner and see what was cooking in Missoula on an Autumn eve. Well, Missoula was all dressed up in her Fall finery and there was even a rainstorm show to keep us entertained!

A Study in Bugs on an Autumn Afternoon

2008-09-28T20:00:00.006-06:00

Autumn in Missoula

2008-09-27T17:43:00.005-06:00

I really don't believe there is a lovelier season than Autumn. It just begs you to get out and take those long walks in the woods, cozy up to a crackling fire with friends, drink that gorgeous, big Cabernet you've been saving, or just get out in your garden for those last precious weeks. So, before I start putting it to bed, I thought I'd put up a few photos from my garden showing off some of its fall beauty. Happy Autumn to you all!

California Fever

2008-07-13T17:27:00.007-06:00

Oh, Southern California! You either love it or hate, I guess. Of course there's the crime, smog and traffic but, lest we forget, California has some pretty amazing gardens tucked in amongst the urban jungle. I was extremely fortunate to get to visit a couple recently (this is just before Santa Barbara burst into flames) so I thought I'd post my Ode to the California Garden. Enjoy!

Santa Barbara Botanical Gardens is a wonderous place, tucked in the foothills surrounding Santa Barbara.

The Getty ...need I say more?

Magnolias and Mason Bees

2008-05-03T07:52:00.009-06:00

I woke the other morning to such a glorious sight...my magnolia in full bloom! It has creamy pink petals and such a nice form and it happily sits right outside my kitchen window where I look out on it every morning. Such a nice thing to wake up to each morning. It's probably one of my favorite plants and I have been trying to grow one for years now so watching this one flourish has been extremely satisfying.

My first attempt with magnolias started with a mail-order purchase through J&P shortly after we bought our house. I mulled and considered and planned out where I would plant it to give it the best chance of succeeding. I envisioned sitting in our sunroom, sipping my coffee and gazing out at this magnificent tree. So, I researched and thought some more and finally placed the order... then patiently waited.

Finally the day arrived when my tree was to be delivered. I requested that it be shipped to my work to eliminate any undue stress that might occur from it sitting on our front porch all day. I drove our truck to work so I would be able to get it home and informed our receptionist that I was expecting a magnolia tree today and, if she would just buzz me when it arrived , I would quickly get it out of the lobby for her. I even asked a male coworker if he could help me get it to the truck when it arrived and then I sat back and waited some more.

By lunch it hadn't arrived. I had to run out (but made it quick) and, upon my return, I scanned the lobby hoping my magnolia had arrived in my absence. Pam, our receptionist, was looking at me and I asked excitedly if deliveries had been made yet. "Yes", she told me, "and I do have something for you". Great, I thought, scanning the lobby again. Well, as if taken from a Saturday Night Live skit, she reaches under the counter and pulls out a Fedex box which couldn't have weighed more than 2 lbs. I looked at her, confused, saw that the box was from J&P and ripped it open . And there, in all its magnificent glory, was my magnolia tree! Basically, it looked like a pencil with roots! A small, sad pencil with roots. I looked at Pam, she looked at me and then she asked, "Shall I call the guys to see if they can help you get it out to your truck?". Hardy, har, har! And, thus, my first introduction to mail-order plants. Oh, and by the way, I took my pencil magnolia home, planted it in the 3 foot hole I had prepared and watched it promptly shrivel up and die. Grr.....

So, after several more attempts, I'm sure you can understand why I am now proud as a mother hen of this little beauty.

Another item in my garden that I'm proud as punch over is my Mason bees. I started with one hive which I got through a pledge I made to our local public radio station and, after their latest pledge drive, I now have 3 hives. For those gardeners who haven't heard of Mason bees, please pay attention! They are such wonderful little creatures; very gentle, non-aggressive, gregarious and inexhaustively busy and, I've been told, they're more productive pollinaters than honey bees. Plus, they are so fun to watch! Nothing makes me happier than sitting in my garden and watching these little guys zip and buzz and dance around. In the morning they will sit in the doorway of their respective holes, like dogs sitting in the doorways of their doghouses, and when the sun finally warms them up, out they come to dance, buzz and pollinate. Take a look at my buzzy little friends!

Sunshine! Glorious Sunshine!

2008-04-28T19:35:00.005-06:00

Forgive my delay in posting but the most miraculous thing occured this weekend....SUNSHINE! Hallelujah! After days and weeks of rain and snow, we got that precious liquid gold. Having grown up in a region where you never bothered to check the weather report, you just took it for granted that the sun was going to shine, it's still quite a shock to the system when I go for days without seeing it. It feels like you're in a cold, wet, dark tunnel and you're never going to get out. But, then, the sun comes out and you feel like you can fly!

Having just emerged from that tunnel, I looked around at my fair city and discovered there are a heck of a lot of people who must feel the same way! The sun came out and it was as if the whole city woke up at the same time...... and came out to play. People were everywhere! In the river, on the trails, wandering downtown, hiking, biking, barbequing, snoozing in the park, lounging in hammocks, sipping wine on patios with friends. It was like a citywide party and it was a whole lot of fun.

Erik and I did our best to contribute to the party atmosphere and managed to get out and about town. We snapped a few pictures of our city in the sun on one of our bike rides so hope you enjoy. We even got a picture of our resident beaver, who lives at the end of our street, socializing with one of the ducks who came to visit for the summer.

Now, they say another big, ugly storm is supposed to hit again this week but, for now, the sun is shining, the sky is blue and my backyard view of Mt. Sentinel is crystal clear so I'm going to raise a toast to the sun god and sit back and enjoy!

Murphy, Our Houseguest

2008-04-17T19:42:00.003-06:00

Last night we had the perfect houseguest, a baby English bulldog named Murphy. This was Murphy's first sleepover and, I have to say, alot of fun was had by all. I don't know if he has ever spent time around 3 dogs all weighing 70 lbs or better but, after the initial, "Oh my god, what ARE they? Giants?" he settled right into rough-housing, squeeky toy squeeking, chasing each other around the yard, barking at strange sounds and, his favorite, tug-of-war.

Having worn himself out the night before (and rolling off of bed once during the night) morning came pretty early for the little guy but, by this point, he believed he was one of the big dogs and filed out the back door in order like a pro...Large, Medium, Small and Extra Small. He barked at a passing neighbor, tried to wolf down big dog food, and learned the pure joy of leaping on an extra large Coolaroo and using it like a trampoline. Then, unfortunately, after dozing in a sunny doorway while I got ready, the visit was over and we packed his overnight bag and headed off to work to meet his mom.

I wonder if tonight he'll dream little doggie dreams of his time amongst the giants....

Look At These Little Beauties

2008-04-06T13:23:00.004-06:00

I'm happy to report that my seedlings are bursting at their little peat pods and have had to be moved into roomier accommodations. I was frantically trying to find containers to move them into, had even asked friends, neighbors and co-workers for any soup cans they might have hanging around in their recycling bins (not enough, by the way!), when the lightbulb in the brain FINALLY turned on and I thought, "Party cups!" Woohoo! I had a Costco-size bag of red, plastic drink cups leftover from our annual Autumn BBQ stashed in the basement. I went charging on down and got straight to work.

It took me three hours to prep my soil mix, punch holes in the bottoms of the cups and get everyone relocated...but I did it and don't they look happy! I ran out of room in my sunroom so I rigged up a table in our bay window and everyone seems to be settling in to their new digs.

Of course, this means that my mini-greenhouses are empty and ready for the next batch but I'm trying to hold myself back from starting anymore as I have absolutely no where else to put them once they reach the "party cup" stage.

Still, I have packets of seeds and extra peat pods...hmmm, maybe I could just do a few......

Littlefield, Texas

2008-04-02T20:41:00.015-06:00

I've been asked by numerous friends, "What was it like?" so, for all of you who asked, here's my little synopsis of Littlefield, TX and a few things I learned along the way. A farming community of about 6500 residents located in the panhandle of Texas, it's a little town with a big heart. The closest city is Lubbock and this, my friends, is Texas Tech territory. God help you if you're an Aggie from A&M and you wander unaware into this little corner of the world (for all of you Griz fans, it would be similar to having a Cat fan stroll on in to town). This piece of information was drilled into me before I ever set foot on Texas soil as our flight attendant and a passenger got into a heated debate on this very subject before we had even landed. Tip #1 - if you know nothing about sports or competing schools, keep your trap shut or run the risk of being escorted out of town.

The town of Littlefield still retains alot of the charm of a by-gone era. The courthouse still has a bomb shelter and the main street looks as if Elvis will come driving by at any minute. The people are very friendly but certainly notice when there are strangers in the mix. Tip #2 - when taking a picture of main street, do not use a camera with a telephoto lens and STAY ON THE SIDEWALK. Waving a camera around while standing on the edge of the road will apparently cause a traffic jam for the 2 cars that happen to be driving on the street.

One of Littlefield's claim to fame is that country great, Waylon Jennings, was born here, a fact they proudly display on water towers and murals around town. They even have a Waylon Jennings Avenue. It's the street that runs East to West and bisects Main St. You can't miss it as every other business has incorporated some portion of "Waylon" or "Jennings" into their name. This brings us to Tip #3 - do NOT diss Waylon! We won't even go into what can happen to you if you disregard that one. Let's just say "tar" and "feathers" will be in your immediate future.

Last, friendly though they are, these people love their meat, a fact that's a bit disconcerting to a tried-and-true vegetarian. This leads me to Tip# 4 (you veges better pay attention) - do NOT go to the local McDonalds and try to order an Egg McMuffin without the meat. It can lead to hysteria and mayhem. As one old-timer noted as we stood at the counter watching the drama playing out in front of us, "That looks like a Chinese fire drill". Hmm, and indeed it did.

So, if you happen to find yourself in need of wide, open spaces, friendly faces, red dirt and cotton aplenty, you couldn't go wrong in moseying on over to Littlefield. Just make sure to pack your Red Raiders t-shirt before you go.

The Long Road Home

2008-03-30T10:09:00.010-06:00

So, I just got home last night from a trip down memory lane. I won't even go into the white-knuckle drive home over Lookout Pass late last night but, suffice it say, the extra money it would have taken to fly roundtrip from Missoula would have been worth double the amount! Note to self, Montana still gets snowstorms in late March so plan accordingly.

Memory lane was actually my late grandparents' old farm in West Texas, Circleback area to be specific, where my dad was raised. Don't worry if you're not familiar with it as it's just a crossroads in the middle of acres and acres of farmland. I was lucky enough to spend some of my early summers there, running wild through the corn and cotton fields, swinging in a tire swing in a tree next to the house, slurping down Big Red soda (anyone familiar with it?), eating watermelon fresh from the garden and whittling sticks on the front porch with Grandpa and my brothers. Well, as it happens, life goes on, grandparents pass away and farms are sold but, as it also happens, people like to return to their roots so, on a blustery March day, my dad, my brothers and I made a pilgrimage to our old stomping grounds.

The farm has been deserted now for 30 years but it's funny how the memories still linger. The front porch is still there where we sat and whittled happily away, the tree with the tire swing has fallen over and been sandblasted by the blowing sand but I could almost see the tire swinging in the wind. The chicken coop where my brother, Michael, once got himself trapped inside is still standing silently in the corner behind the house and, if you listened closely, you could still imagine the clucking of the hens who once lived there. The screen door that lead to the kitchen was hanging listlessly from it's frame but the squeak of the spring and the happy slap it used to make as we ran in from a summer's thunderstorm still rang in my mind.

As for the farmhouse, it is a silent sentinel surrounded by land that has been placed in the soil bank and which has been allowed to return to the native grasses of the plains. No one comes to visit any more except for the coyotes and other creatures who wander through occasionally. It just sits there quietly, waiting. But the memories; the good and the bad, the ones of working the land through brutal winters and even crueler summers, of families, of children wrestling, fighting, laughing, loving, of friends and family visits, of lessons that snapping turtles really do snap and rattlesnakes are nothing to mess with, and of finding out that there is a big, wide world out there just beyond the horizon, and discovering that the road home is a long one.....yea, those memories still linger....

Searching For The Sun

2008-03-16T11:41:00.006-06:00

I have been hovering and watching my little trays of peat pods like a mother hen watching her eggs and I am so proud and happy to report I HAVE SEEDLINGS! I know, I know, this is something we've experienced since planting our first sunflower seed in first grade but, all these years later, it still amazes me. I ran around looking for Erik and made him come and gaze at these brave, little starts struggling up through their damp peat moss. Look at these gorgeous little guys! One day...nothing! And the next....PLANTS!

Now that I've gotten this positive reinforcement on seed-starting, I am like a junky looking for my next fix. I can't pass up any seed stands and I dream of all the plants I could grow. Erik is threatening to cut off my "garden budget" if I don't start controlling myself but he'll be changing his tune when I start harvesting the first butternut squash, or Anaheim chile! Or pumpkins, Brussels sprouts, Walla Wallas, basil, sage, tomatoes (2 varieties), spicy and sweet mesclun, zucchini, watermelons, jalapenos, beets, carrots, peas and beans.... Hmmm, ok, I admit, I've got a problem.....

Harbingers of Spring

2008-03-11T22:00:00.004-06:00

Wow! What a beautiful weekend we had! Sunny, warm and gorgeous which sent me straight into full gardening mode. I raked, trimmed, pruned and planted and rejoiced at the change in seasons. I was thrilled to see my garden coming back to life. Take a look at the crocus poking through the lavender and lamb's ear. They are practically exploding with color! So nice to see after a long winter of white, gray, black and brown.

Well, since I was in full gardening esctasy, I lost my mind and actually decided to start some seeds. I am horrible at the whole "house plant" thing. Give me a patch of dirt...anywhere!, and I can make magic happen but, hand me a plant and tell me to take it inside and the plant and I both struggle along until I can eventually get it back outside. Be that as it may, I am really tired of being at the mercy of whatever seedlings our local Farmers Market participants have decided to grow so I got the bee up my bonnet and, voila!, I am now hovering over 3 trays of peat and seeds. I even took it so far as noting in my dayplanner when I should see them sprout and when each plant should be mature and full of bounty. Hmm, I just hope I can get them up and keep them alive until I can get them outside. Cross you fingers for me!

If my plan succeeds, I should be rolling in various peppers, pumpkins, Walla Wallas and tomatoes not to mention giant sunflowers, carnations, candytuft and sweet peas. Oh, and did I mention the herbs? Yea, sweet basil, cilantro, and oregano and I'm bound and determined to find organic peppermint so my friend Lori and I can brew our very own peppermint tea.

So, be prepared, folks, for gardening updates from now until the first snow flies. Until then, happy gardening!

Chloe

2008-03-07T22:01:00.004-07:00

Well, I realize it's been awhile since my last post so I thought I'd get something up. I managed to catch a pretty bad cold and it really wiped me out and since I've been hanging around the house and haven't been up to much, I thought I'd use this time to give my dog, Chloe, a little face time.

Chloe is the dog I said I absolutely did not want. There were really ony 2 criteria that I was adamant about when we were looking for a buddy for Riley: 1) It needs to be male and 2) No Labs (sorry, Lab-lovers. They're great dogs but just a bit too happy and goofy for me). I was hoping for a large, male German Shepherd since our old man had recently passed away but, you know what they say about the best laid plans.... Chloe was one of the smallest of her litter, was female and, gasp, obviously a black lab cross. But, as I was reaching for one of the larger male puppies in her litter, she just crawled up on my shoe and wouldn't budge so, heck, who am I to say no to fate? Plus, the one thing we do know about Chloe is that her mother was an AKC registered German Shepherd so we were hoping that would temper the Lab enthusiasm level. Erik likes to say that Chloe is a German Shepherd in Black Lab's clothing. Personality-wise she is all German Shepherd but in looks she is truly Black Lab.

She is the other athlete in the house and is never happier then when she sees Erik pulling out his running shoes. We call her the Stealth Bomber because she is so quick and silent that she can swoop in and around you and you never see her coming. She has also been known to swoop in, take your legs out from under you and disappear before you even hit the ground. You'll just find yourself flat on your back wondering what the heck just happened. It drives our other dog, Riley, insane the way she swoops in and out and, at one point, he got so frustrated that he started to try to grab onto her as she'd run past him. We had to put a quick stop to that behaviour though as most of the time, instead of stopping her, he'd be left standing with a hunk of her flesh in his teeth. (We never said Riley was the brightest bulb in the chandelier.)

Chloe is fluent in 4 different languages; English, French, Spanish and Sign Language. If you even think the words "Walk", "Park", "Drive", "Camp" or "Treat" you might as well get to it because Chloe will start screaming which alerts the other two to what's going on and then you have a swirling mass of doggie-ness on your hands. She plays "Seeing-Eye Dog" for Daisy who is partially blind and Search and Rescue is one of her all-time favorite games. You can never get lost if Chloe is anywhere nearby and good luck at having privacy during your bathroom break while hiking or camping. She just assumes you want to be found and pointed out to everyone.

She's shy and sweet but will take down a St. Bernard to save one of her own, is too smart for her own good, has a tail like an otter and can launch a wineglass like a rocket.... and we are so lucky to have her in our lives.

A Walk in the Woods

2008-02-23T13:53:00.004-07:00

After a week of gorgeous weather, I was a bit melancholy to see the clouds move back in. I know, I know, it's still officially winter in Montana but a girl can dream, can't she? So, in an effort to cheer ourselves up, E & I decided to take the pups for a much-needed run up in Pattee Canyon.

There was still quite a bit of snow on the ground though it was pretty icy. I, who is never dressed approriately, was wearing my old running shoes with practically no tread. I managed to slip and slide and contort myself into positions that should have given me high scores had I been competing in any sort of gymnastic competition. And, of course, they were all completed with the utmost of grace....not! Thank god no one was around to see my contortion act. The dogs actually thought it was some sort of game and kept running up to me to see what I was doing.

I did manage to save my camera from sure death and snap a couple of pictures and in the end fun was had by all. Not to mention the scenery is great no matter what season!

Peace

2008-02-17T19:55:00.006-07:00

It was such a beautiful day today! And, of course, all I could think about was getting my hands in the dirt. I decided to put up a picture to give us all something to look forward to (in more ways than one)...

This picture was actually taken on a trip to New Zealand but the utter glory of this rose sent me right out to plant one of my own as soon as my feet hit Montana soil.

Will You Be Mine?

2008-02-15T23:08:00.005-07:00

For Valentines Day, my hubby and I decided to fly in the face of convention and actually stay home and cook. Not very romantic you might say but, really, what a great way to reconnect! You're trapped together for a good couple of hours and, unless you want to leave hungry, it's going to take some teamwork and perseverance to see it through to the end.

We chose an Indian menu as it's a type of cuisine we've only dabbled in and we both love. Plus, it has the added benefit of utilizing exotic spices and unique ingredients that were a taste sensation in themselves. Cardamom, cumin, tumeric...a dash of this and a dash of that, accompanied by a glass of a 2005 Bordeaux for each of us, and the next thing you know we had ourselves a wonderfully delicious meal comprised of Onion Samosas, Malai Kofta and seasoned Basmati rice.

While we chopped, cooked and stirred we talked about how the day went, how I really can't wait to learn to play the piano (yea, yea, I know. I'll shut up about it soon), laughed over a funny pet anecdote and even delved into what we both want out of life. We sipped wine, offered tastes to each other and were excited as our colorful ingredients melded into mouth-watering dishes.

And, as we sat down to eat, I realized what makes life together so great; a shared sense of adventure, alot of laughter and good appetites!

Thanks, E, for being my Valentine!

Yessir, That's My Baby!

2008-02-13T21:57:00.011-07:00

Have I ever told you that I want to learn to play the piano? Ok, not just play it but actually own one AND learn how to play it? Well, if you're one of my long-suffering friends or relatives, you probably know that about me. BUT, having had absolutely no musical instruction...EVER, I couldn't justify plunking down a large sum of money on an instrument that could, quite possibly, turn into just another piece of furniture in our tiny Victorian home. To avoid such a dilemna, I've therefore been on a quest for the perfect free, or almost free, piano for quite awhile now. I've even recruited friends to help search the give-away section of the classifieds (by the way, Thanks, Tim!). Well, I am so happy to report that I have returned triumphant! Thanks to a local Craigslist ad, I am the proud, new owner of an old, but still quite regal, piano. Yes, it might have a few bumps and bruises, and, yes, a few of its keys might sound out like a goose calling its young but it's mine and I love it.

So, as I happily plonk out my Ode to Joy and my Mary Had a Little Lamb, I dream of my days as a pianist and I know that soon, very soon (ok, once I finally find a piano teacher willing to take me on), I will be soaring to the dulcet notes of Beethoven and Bach.

Until then, I would like to offer a sincere apology to my spouse, who is gamely trying to smile and support through the torturous learning phase, and to my dogs, who run for the hills whenever they hear the goose call out....this one's for you!

It's Coming!

2008-02-10T12:35:00.001-07:00

So, I was wandering through my still-sleeping garden today to see how everyone was doing and, as I was trimming my espalier, a fleck of green caught my eye. I crept a little closer and what did I discover? Beautiful, tiny green buds on my white lilacs! Can Spring be just around the corner?

And Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Winter Weather...

2008-02-09T22:33:00.000-07:00

Who needs warm sun when you've got all this beautiful snow?
Here are Chloe, Riley and Daisy showing exactly how wonderful winter can be!

We Interrupt This Snowy Winter....

2008-02-08T23:38:00.000-07:00

... to bring you a shot from the warm and dry Southwest. Taken in Sedona, AZ while visiting my dad, I can almost feel the sun on my skin warming me right up.

Yellowstone Natives

2008-02-05T20:21:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, I had the great fortune to take a winter stroll through Yellowstone last weekend and happened upon some of the natives. I thought you all might like to see a few of the characters that were kind enough to pose for me.

Birthday Surprises

2008-02-03T17:26:00.000-07:00

Ah, birthdays.... You either love 'em or hate 'em. Well, I am happy to say that I just had one of my best birthdays ever! Thanks to a hubby who went way beyond the call of duty (you had me with the flowers!) and a brother who took one for the team and spent his weekend babysitting our 3 (yes, three!) bored dogs, and friends who took the time to let me know they cared, I got to enjoy a birthday that will long be remembered as one of the best times of my life. Erik, my hero of a husband, planned and plotted and the next thing I knew I was receiving multiple bouquets of flowers at work, eating dinner at one of my favorite restaurants and then was whisked away on a long weekend to one of the most beautiful corners of Montana (more on that with my next entry).

So, I guess, if you're going to turn another year older, it really does help to have people in your life that let you know that you matter to them and they're happy to have you around. Thank you from the bottom of my heart and much love to you all (especially....Erik).

An English Garden in the Rocky Mountains

2008-01-29T21:43:00.001-07:00

Have I mentioned that I love gardens? One of the challenges of living in the rough and wild Rocky Mountains is dealing with long winters and a short growing season, especially when an English garden is your idea of heaven! Just imagine the surprised looks when I've wandered into my local nursery and asked if they have English boxwoods, Sweet Williams or perhaps some David Austin roses? When I first came to town, the guys would just shake their heads and offer me cinquefoil, chokecherries or red-twig dogwoods. "Those boxwoods will never make it through the winter!", they'd said. Ah, but make it they did and so did the wisteria, the Hidcote lavender, the pinks and the cranesbill and the David Austin roses. I've even managed to keep a magnolia alive and had gorgeous pink blossoms the following spring! Yes, I mulch like a fiend, yes, I've lost too many tree-roses to count, but for all of my hard work and all of the losses, the reward of seeing that first rosebud open, seeing the explosion of colors as my sleepy garden pops back to life and smelling the glorious scents that waft through my windows makes it all worthwhile...and then some.

So, while old man winter is still stomping through my garden, I'll take my garden moments "sugar-coated" and wait for my hardy, little plants to wake up and put on a show.

Lost in Montana

2008-01-26T01:26:00.000-07:00

It's been 13 yrs since this California girl packed her bags and headed north and I still can't believe I live here. I was lying in bed the other morning and looked out on a huge moon hanging low in a cold, winter morning sky. Everything glittered under its light and I felt as if I could reach out and pluck it right out of the sky.

The thermometer was reading negative degrees, so, as any good California girl would do, I snuggled deeper under my comforter and dreamed of spring....