Proving Up

I am reading this book now that collects a number of accounts by women who settled in the Montana region at the beginning of the 20^th century. The way it worked is this: they came from all over the nation (and even across the Ocean and Canada) to “lease” a piece of land (300 acres or less) from the government, build a “shack” on it, and start to either cultivate the land, or raise animals on it.

After three years of living here, more or less continuously (without hiatuses longer than a few months) and after proving they are earning a living off the land, they were allowed to file for ownership on their plot, and at that point in time, the land was theirs. They would receive papers that showed they are the owners. After three years, they would “prove up” that this is indeed their home and the government would title the property to them. And this is how The West was settled.

What I find the most interesting in this book is not necessarily the account of all the hardships, or the wicked hard life that a lone woman would encounter in the middle of nothing, or the description of the really gruesome winters, with ruthless prairie winds and unforgiving blizzards, blowing through the cracks of the shacks with no insulation at all; or the tough long years of severe drought when they had no crops at all, and no hope left. I find the most interesting their difficulty in feeling at home here; their longing for the places they left behind. After all, they picked to move across the continent. They seemingly were ready for a new life and hard work. But there is always something left behind, some anchor, that kept pulling them to their roots.

Some of them went back in the long winters, so they can retreat to calmer weather in California, or The South; some just gave up and moved back “home” before their proving up time was up. And yet some of them stayed, but wrote in the journals I am reading now how they missed their old land.

I have felt much the same way in the past three years of my life, without the actual complications of waiting for the government to call me an owner. For three years, my former house in North Carolina has been mine, and for one reason or another I could not sell it. For three years, it kept pulling me back, albeit just in thought and worry. For three years, although I have lived a new married life, I have found a better job that I had in NC, I have travelled places speechlessly beautiful out here, in the West, I have fought rough winters and planted my own gardens, I have buried my beloved cat in this land, I have also hung on to Greensboro as to my true “home”.

I visited just once, but every time life was tough here, I would always go back to my “safe” (and worrisome) zone in my heart. I was always telling myself that I can see myself going back. It was safe, it was friends, it was what I knew …

Until yesterday! Yesterday, my old place finally sold. Finally, I lost my anchor. I am still in a state of shock, for many reasons, but mostly because I never thought it could really be completely gone from my life. And now, for the first time in three years, I realize that I am fully moved. Finally.  

The other day, a colleague asked me what I miss about North Carolina. My goodness, what don’t I miss?! The weather, the honey liquid air in the middle of summer, the green, huge oak trees lining the streets, the food, the mountains and Asheville and Blowing Rock in particular, the loud, noisy, beautiful sandy beaches, only a few hours away. And more than anything, I miss the people. Friends and strangers alike – just the Southern hospitality and drawl!

A piece of my heart will definitely forever be buried in The Carolinas, just like another piece is left in Romania. But now, a true new life can begin. No more dreaming about going back, as there is no physical place to go back to. After three years of a torn heart, hard winters, trying to understand this new culture and feeling uprooted and isolated, and after always, daily, feeling pulled behind … I have finally proved up.

From NC to UT – A Trip of a Lifetime

Conclusion and pictures


So, what will stay with me from this trip? I am sure I’ll forget soon the sequence of all the states we have driven through, or the detail of what river flows through what city. I hope not, but I know my brain! The beauty of the land will not leave me, though. That will stay with me for a while.

I have always known, since I moved here, over 12 years ago, that America is beautiful and so diverse you will never miss any kind of landscape even if it were that you would never leave the continent. Every year that I have been here, traveling more and more of its vastness showed me the truth of that statement. And this trip crowns that, I would say. We have not seen the ocean on this trip, but we saw everything else in between.

There is a beauty of every form of relief! There is a calmness and a peace of the vast plains, and a quietness of every small town. You feel every stream and every rock bubbling with stories of times past. There is a beauty of the tall mountains, where you feel dwarfed and vulnerable, an awesomeness of every snowed peak! A higher presence is felt in everything that you know you cannot control – the winds in Kansas, the relentless rock falling in Colorado! You understand that you will have to let nature take its course. And then you’ll watch how She decides to re-arrange this land.

The green of West Virginia and Kentucky will stay with me. The aridity of The Plains, the never ending farmland, and the various vegetation between Kentucky and Colorado will stay with me – everything from oak trees, ash, fields of wheat and corn, junipers, pine trees and prairie grass to tall aspens.

The “funny” roofs of The Plains will stay. They have more “round” roofs than anywhere I have ever been. The active and poor looking coal mine towns of West Virginia and the deserted, closed, also poor looking mineral mine towns of The Rockies will stay.

The absence of planes and the constant presence of trains everywhere we drove through will be a permanent reminder that train tracks are what opened up The West, and will be for a while. They feel like such an intrinsic part of the landscape. The “ghost farms” and “ghost train stations” will live in my memory as my own experienced reality of The Wild West! I have seen with my own eyes the sets of many movies I grew up with about the making of America. It’s humbling!

Even if the location will be blurry after a while, the unusual names of towns, streams and streets, such as “Paris”, “Winchester”, “Quebec Street”, “Voda”, “Balta” (the latter are Romanian common nouns), “Grizzly Creek”, “Lick River”, and “No Name” will stay, for sure.

The knowledge that the state of Colorado is not all pine tree and mountain heaven will definitely outlast this trip! The mightiness of human construction, as seen in all the bridges that cross all our huge rivers (The Ohio, the Missouri, the Mississippi, The Kansas, The Colorado and Green River) as well as in the tunnels that we drove through, piercing through hundreds of feet of mountains will not be forgotten.

Although I have no picture document of it, the reminder that there is “free land” available out West will stay with me. The desperation of hundreds of empty billboards begging advertisers to buy space all over The Plains will always be a sad reminder of the status of our economy now.

I hope in several years this will be a national trend, but for now, it’s evidently a Western one: you hear about more sustainable sources of energy, but you’re not aware of how serious people are about it out East. I have never seen these many windmills and solar panes as I have seen from Missouri to Utah! It’s really a revolution, in my book. Quite a new thing for me, I’ll have to say!

One trend that connects all the states I have been in or through is the overt religiousness of folks. I thought the “Save your soul today” signs are a staple of The Bible Belt where I have lived for the past 12 years. But nope. There is someone looking to save your soul even in The Prairie!

And speaking of that. Most of you know about the “no alcohol on Sundays” rule, or at least “the no alcohol before 12 PM on Sunday rule”, as in NC – a rule that I have always had trouble understanding how it could prevent anyone from drinking, but that’s another story altogether and entirely. But how about this: in Colorado, you can buy alcohol on Sundays, but only a six pack! Not a single bottle, not a 12 pack, not a case! A six pack only. Now, you explain to me how is that meant to discourage people from drinking on Sundays?! “Sign up here for Eternity and you can have a six pack” – no, that’s not a real sign, I just made it up.

One thing that surely will forever stay with me, should anyone have had any doubts about it, is the love of the road, and the permanent propensity to get in the car and head for the open horizon! If this trip taught me one thing, it was that no matter how close the quarters, how dinky the hotel rooms, how stressful handling of the pets who hate to travel are, I will forever be in love with being on the go! I will forever love seeing what the next curve in the road has to offer, and what the lens finds to peek into next. This trip only stirred up in me the travel bug, even more than before.

I cannot wait to climb that next mountain or be amazed by the next sunset, or stormy sky. It’s such a blessing to come back home with the retina full of beautiful places and the mind full of memories.
As long as the car will have wheels and as long as I’ll have breath in my lungs and a relatively able body, the traveling will go on. No matter how far or how close I’ll have to go, I’ll soak into the wonder of every yard traveled. And that’s a promise!

One of my most favorite pictures from this trip is below – a house in the wilderness when we just entered Utah from Colorado. The light on it is just so serene and out worldly! Please click on it for the pictures from this trip. And please forgive the quality of some pictures – I can only shoot so clearly from a car moving at 80+ miles an hour.

A "ghost house" speaking of past, present and future, at the border of Colorado and Utah. Please click on the picture for the whole album.

Topsy-turvy World

“The great affair is to move.” (R.L. Stevenson)

So, the real countdown to the “big move” has started. It takes people years to scout a new place to move to, especially across the continent, and it took me a whole … 5 months to do it! Like always, no time to waste. Always on the move. Life’s too short … You know me by now!

In the next week or several weeks, the postings will be few, and the topics will be different (I hope) than before. A whole new wide world is opening to me by getting ready to make the trip to Utah.

A sad "good bye" to Greensboro - Hams on Friendly Ave. has closed.

I am excited, and worried, and livid, and so happy that I am able to do this. I have wanted all my life to live in very different places, to experience various landscapes and weather(s) and to be on the move, but at the same time to have a nice home base to go to. I have always wanted to live in The South, and in the desert, as well. I have always wanted to make the trip across The Great Plains, just like The Pioneers. I am so eternally grateful to all of the people and situations in my life that have made all those dreams come true.

Fero is ready to pack, or so he says

Since the wedding, I have been busy packing and finishing off ties to North Carolina. I am still to call the phone company and the cable company to cancel accounts, still to take the car into the service station, but there is no time. Packing has taken me most of the waking time.

Our new living quarters: since I gave my bed away to The Barnabas Network, we've been setting camp in the living room at night. Gypsy's not too sure about the idea.

Since I am swamped, most of the postings will be of pictures, and I hope they’ll tell you the story when I am too tired or too busy to write.

I collect mugs from every place I visit. You think it's all a cool idea till you have to move yet again and have to pack each one. This shot has made me rethink my collecting habits - maybe collecting spoons or stamps from here on out.

I want to say “I’ll miss you when I go”, but I won’t, because I hope to take you with me.

So, come along, and hang on tight!

Fero says: "Wake me up when it's all over, all right?!" Smart cat!

The High (and Painful) Price of a Dream

The House of Guilt - of sorts

So, I never quite got comfortable in this very house of mine. I think I have said it before, and I apologize (not really) for the repeat, but I don’t think I have ever gotten over the buyer’s remorse on this joint. At the time I bought it, I thought it was a dream come true. I still think that, in fact. It was my coming of age as a grown woman: it was coming into adulthood from the condo, college-like living I had before, as a single woman.

So, I plunged into it thinking this is what I have worked for all my life, and praying that I will be in it forever (uumm … 30 years at least) to pay it off. I knew at the time, though, that is just about as much as I can possibly swallow without choking on it. It was a bit too much, but not enough to cause me to say a definite “no”.

My gut was in knots though and I sensed than one day, this will be trouble. A friend advised that I will make more money in a couple of years, as it happens, usually, and that will not be an issue. Only the friend didn’t foresee the economic crisis that followed almost immediately after I signed the bottom line, even before the ink dried on the paper. A not so favorable loan had me borrow it at painful terms, and thus my guilt towards my hard earned money deepened!

I am not exactly house poor, as I have been able to play, too, and go out and have fun with friends, and donate to my charities, and also take some trips and play with some of the money, as well. Or at least I was not house poor till before I quit my job about a week ago.

I did make good use of it, too, I will not be ungrateful: I have enjoyed people having their own quarters when they come to town, especially since it’s illegal in my family to book hotel rooms if a relative lives in town. I have enjoyed the back yard, and all the greenery I have planted there; the grapes and strawberries, fresh dill and parsley, fresh onions and rosemary for my omelets. I have enjoyed the quietness of the area, and the changes of the seasons in the beautiful, huge oak trees across the street from me. I have also enjoyed having e designated place for every single thing, and a room with a purpose for everything, like they teach you on HGTV! I have also loved, loved, loved my huge kitchen, where I never run out of space when I cook or when I have to store a new pot or pan! It’s been all great!

But, alas, plans are made only to be broken by life, aren’t they?! Now, the prospect, which is slowly turning into an ugly reality, of no job, a wee bit too much of a payment plus utilities plus HOA fees which I swear must be fed on growth hormones or something, because they are insane (at $158 a month for grass trimming) is becoming more and more bitter. Even more so than before, the straps on the shoulders of this too big of a weight are cutting into my back.

The house sits quietly on the market, for exactly a month and two weeks today, along with other 20+ homes (I think) in the same neighborhood, 5 of which are in the same parking lot as mine, listed at a lower price than I bought it for, to make it more appealing. I sit here, on a quiet and beautiful spring afternoon waiting for seers, “passer-by”-ers. Isn’t spring the time deemed by all realtors to be the most appropriate for home buying?! And isn't Sunday the most perfect of days for real estate?! So ... where are the people? I sit here, and I listen to the sound of birds and swishy wind in the new leaves of yet a new spring. And I try with all my might not to cry or to hurt myself for the guilt I feel for buying too much of a dream!

I do know that every house sells. Eventually. And I know this, too, shall sell, and pass. But I cannot help but feel ever so guilty for burdening not only me, but my husband also with an expense which could have been so much more bearable should it have been planned a little bit more carefully …

And unlike so many people out there, I have enough self respect to not blame “W.”, not the banks, not the economy, not Obama for something that I signed up for with no gun against my temple.

It still makes me choke up with guilt and lose sleep at night, because I seldom screw up, you see. But I guess it keeps me real, too, and reminds me that I too can make a very wrong decision sometimes. The comforting thought that we are not infallible is so sweet! When I’ll chase a dream next time, I’ll ask for an insurance policy first. If only life can give you one, that is. *Sigh*.

Christmas Thoughts

For all of you “regulars” out there, you are probably wondering where is my peeved Christmas blog of the year? The one where I bitch about traffic, selfish folks and hounds-like sales people … So, I guess, I am past due …

Only this year might be a little different than most others … Maybe …

First off, I wonder where in the world “the recession” is! Definitely not in The US! Or not in Greensboro, NC! Friendly Shopping Center is just as hard to drive through as any other year. Stores are still full, lines are interminable and people are crazy, impatient, and can’t drive for doo-doo, either! Just like always … A woman is arguing with her mom over whether her sister will like a brown or a beige sweater – which to seems immaterial to me … People across the board are buying “snuggies”! Should I say any more?!?

This is, just like any other year, a year for plenty of useless presents under the tree, like good ol’ America has taught us as a tradition for many decades now! Macy’s will survive, after all!

So, yeah, whatever recession NBC or FOX is talking about … I am not seeing it …

But this Christmas has been sort of different, so far, on a personal level, though … I have only bought practical and rational things for my share! No snuggies here! Just things I know people want (for sure!) and can enjoy, or things that will be memorable. I hope! My folks finally got my presents a couple of weeks before Christmas, which is an accomplishment (instead of after New Year’s!) , so I planned ahead! And the rest of my crowd will get thoughtful gifts, I hope, but no uselessness. No waste. Small gifts, but meaningful. I hope. So, I guess I am more conservative, more “recession” aware myself … Maybe.

I have also been impressed by the amount of vendors, especially restaurants that offer a lot of deals around these times. Just coupons, and discounts for people who want to have a meal in style on a budget. I was shocked by the avalanche of coupons from everywhere. There are definitely deals out there, people! Open your junk mail and buy your paper! There is good stuff! I appreciated the effort of our retailers that wanted our business but understood we need help affording it. Now, that’s thoughtfulness!

One thing that did peeve me was … all the places that had “suggestions” flyers, and such. You got to Fresh Market, they have suggestions of what you can serve for dinner or snacks for Christmas. You go to Chick-Fil-a, they have suggestions about what you should fill up your stockings with. Really?!?! We need all this help?! What happened with our own thoughtfulness and care into what we buy for our loved ones and what we make a tradition out of cooking for Christmas?! In this world where we have the cell phone, the tv, the DVR, and the GPS working and thinking for us, do we really need help thinking tradition for Christmas, too?!? Should we retire our brains and let the retailers make Christmas for us next year?! Sad. In my book!

This Christmas also made me melt when I heard some stories of charity. Not only the familiar ones, ones of which I have been part of, like feeding the homeless and such, but stories of people giving up their Christmas bonus, however small, for people less fortunate. At work, we got $50 gift cards to various grocery stores. But they only went to benefited employees. The part timers, got nothing. Some benefited employees, although on a slim budget themselves, gave up theirs towards a draw which will allow some part timers to have a grocery card, too, and have a Christmas meal for their families, also, a meal which might not have happened if it were not for this card, maybe. In this world, of newspapers going out of business and so many people losing jobs, this made me melt! True charity is born out of not much, and giving, all at the same time. So moving!

We live in a caring world, sometimes, don’t we?! People might be hungry, but they still have a heart! I know it’s a cliché, but it’s what Christmas should be all about. Charity just because, for people who really need it. No snuggies. Please!

My food is cooked, and my wine is bought, and my grape leaves rolled! My sweetie is coming to town tomorrow, so my heart is settled! So, Christmas can start tomorrow if it wants to! And the snow we just got today … makes it all the more perfect.

I hope all of us have a quiet and peaceful Christmas … With lots of light, laughs, good food, and good people around us. I hope we’re full of hope and wonder for the next year and we all open our hearts to each other, friend, or stranger, so we can receive the fullness and richness that is out there for us to enjoy …

No worries, just endless blessings to all of us!

Make it a safe and happy one, everyone!

What’s That?!

falling leaves

hide the path
so quietly (John Bailey - Autumn, A Haiku Year)

Someone’s tripped over the buckets of paint up in the sky again, and they spilled them. All, on the trees, painting them red and yellow, and rust and orange and purple…

Half of the town is dressed in orange – and some of the kitchens. Pumpkin pie, and dips and frosting on the cupcakes for yesterday’s parties.

Smiley orange faces are grinning from lit porches, awaiting laughing and carefree children.

What’s that, I wonder? That spot, on the skin, right above my shoulder blade?! Oh, a dry patch! Must apply moisturizer to whole body again. A (not so) friendly reminder …

Touching the grocery cart and opening your car door reminds you with a jump - literally: metal things shock fake fiber sweaters. They must be …

The nose gets cold when mornings open the doors to a new week. Must grab a jacket. Brr! – that chill in the air.

The Produce section at the store reeks of fresh, ripe muscadines. Fresh new cider is pouring in wine glasses at wineries.

The yard is finally quiet. The outside A/C unit is silent. Gas bill is up.

Headlights shine in the night on wind chasing large oak leaves like stray, hurried cats, into a run to nowhere.

It’s snowing leaves again. All over town. It’s windy. Quiet. Melancholy.

The dimmer switch is on again. The light in the afternoons is softer, ever so quiet and silky. Not sharp anymore. “The sun has lost its gusto” – mom says.

The cats sleep in again. They cuddle.

The swish in the trees is back. And nightfall comes faster. Time for soup and warm biscuits again. And all the harvest candles to be brought up from closets.

It’s fall. Another year’s getting ready to pass into yesterday …

Click on the picture for more Greensboro fall pictures

A Walk in the Park

Not many words today.

It's a quiet, and cool Sunday, one of those days where you smell fall in the air, from far, far away, but it's not quite here ... It's still being shy. One of those lazy Sundays, where most people are not on the roads, nor on the trails, but judging by the 10 cars in front of every house, they're probably in watching a game, drowning into a Keg and eating chicken wings... Hhmm ... chicken wings ...

One of those days...

And since I had no plans, my camera asked to be taken out. Ducks are always friendly, somewhere, and so are squirrels, I found.

Just click on the picture and see what you missed at Country Park this afternoon.

Happy new week!

Far Away, So Close. A Weekend Blog

At one time in my life, my idea of happiness was to run away from civilization and buy several acres of bare land in Montana (yes, I was specific about the state), with a run down, fixer up log cabin on it, and just live off of potatoes and corn. If corn makes it up there. If not, woods berries and mushrooms would do!

As I have lived in the middle of booming and Yankee invaded North Carolina for the past 11 years or so, I have learned that no matter how much I love my “me” time, and my mountains, I love human contact, various cuisines, shopping centers, libraries, and the ocean just as much! Variety is the key word!

I say this as I am thinking of a very blissful weekend that just passed. My sweetie and I have explored anything from sushi on Tate Street in the UNCG Campus, to the trails of Stone Mountain, from The Mellow Mushroom pizza, in Downtown Greensboro, to the two immense stories of great Swedish finds at Ikea, and the Swedish meatballs, of course, in Charlotte, from the kitchen stores at Friendly Shopping Center to the delicious fried pickles at The Penguin Drive-in in the Queen City.

The proximity to both larger cities and the mountains from Greensboro, along with the never ending gift that Greensboro itself is, are such conveniences on weekends like these: with many days to fill and no specific plans!

There is always something to do, socially, sure, like standup shows, and plays and bands to see, or a newly open food joint in our hopping downtown, but the independently planned play time is what both me and my guy favor! And we never seem to be lacking ideas on how to comfortably fill our weekends!

I might be too tired to travel and explore new cities and foods and trails on 85 degree hot summer days in 75% humidity, one day. Maybe I will prefer the coolness of Montana or Colorado remoteness from the world, at some point in my life. But not in the near future!

No pictures of Ikea nor of the sushi, but for the rest, visit The Labor Day album, and make plans (hopefully) to visit your neighborhood!

A Surprisingly Good Culinary Find

My relationship with tapas has been strange over the years. I love food! Anyone who knows me, or knows my family, knows I am all about food. I love textures, and smells, and “weird” stuff, and experimenting. But when I had tapas, a few times before, I have always been disappointed. You know: like finally meeting the movie star you dreamed of always marrying, but then you discover he farts over dinner, and writes “their” instead of “there” all the time! Just … pretty, and painfully disappointing at the same time.

So, every time someone suggests tapas to me, I cringe! I am going: “Great! Another place that sells grass and a mushroom with a squirt of ketchup for $10 a plate!”. I am always meeting that invite with “Thanks, but can we go to this burger joint instead, please?!”.

So, tapas have always been something I could easily pass up, until tonight. Thanks to a dear friend, I had some gift certificates to Rim Tapas, in downtown Greensboro. The place boasts to be also a wine bar, so I invited my wine friends to share the experience with me, and what an experience it was!

We all went in thinking the food will be insufficient and pretentious, and the wine overpriced and crappy. But we had a blast! A blast of a time, and a blast of flavor in our mouths, as well!

We took advantage of the “two for $10 by 6:30PM” special, and we ordered 4 appetizers for just $20. Our orders were: Savannah Crab and Artichoke Dip with Pecorino, NC Mountain Trout With Blue Corn Crust, Soy Ginger Chicken and Sweet Chili Shrimp on Crispy Peanut Noodle Cake. We also split a bottle of German Riesling, which is usually our wine of choice: a “lighter style white”, as it’s listed in the menu.

Everything was amazing! Every dish had a sophistication and a richness about it that is hard to explain! Every dish had more than one texture, and more than one flavor: soft, and gooey, and sweet and spicy and tart all mixed into one bite!

I felt like my mouth was traveling from the NC mountains to Japan, and China, Thailand, and through Mexico in-between … with a stop in the Louisiana swamps. And the sizes of these tapas were not your usual “two leaves and a mushroom” fair, either. They were decent size appetizers, to say the least! The trout was almost an inch thick fillet, with a whole fried egg on top of. The dip was in an honest-to-God dip dish, not some ramekin pulled out from Lilliput! Surrounded by a couple of handfuls of chips – not some kind on miniature nuggets!

We declared in the end than a couple of appetizers per person with a glass of wine once in a while might just be what the doctor ordered for unwinding after a long day.


And I didn’t say anything about the owners’ hospitality skills, but they were great! Not bothersome, and you got just enough attention to feel like they wanted you there, and they wanted you happy. The wait staff was still rusty, but I’ll be forgiving, and allow them time … to grow! But, honestly, who needs a friendly waitress, when you’ve got an artist and a taste demigod for a chef?!

It was truly a unique and very rewarding experience! I will not sneeze at tapas anymore, and that’s a promise! I will just pick them more carefully from now on. But I do know that Rim (under new management!) is one place I will be returning to! If not for the tapas (try to twist my arm), then for being the only restaurant in Greensboro that I know of that has Moscato on their wine list! Sure, it’s $14 for half of a bottle, but you can never pay too much for The Nectar of The Gods, can you?! And every once in a while a gal is entitled to some nectar!