Where I Landed...

2 bedrooms (our master bedroom and an office/extra bedroom), 1200 square feet, built in 1950, hardwood floors, with a huge back yard (currently covered with snow) and a massive laundry room (currently covered with color-sorted piles of dirty clothes.)

Going Home

Hiking Mt. Pilchuck with my husband last summer.

The bosom of the Pacific Ocean.

Twin Falls in the Cascade Mountains

We'll be traveling back to the Pacific Northwest for the holidays and I couldn't be happier. Originally we had discussed a road trip to the southwest, but ultimately decided that we should head back to Washington to visit friends and family.

I think about the things I miss a lot. The people I miss, of course... my mom, my dad, my grandmother, all of my friends... but also the familiar scents and sights. The odor of rain and pine trees thick in the air, the feeling of humidity clinging to your skin and the sensation of cold rain in your hair, tickling your scalp. The closer you get to the Sound, the smell of saltwater and dried kelp and driftwood...

Writing

November is generally spent writing furiously, as I'm generally participating in something called National Novel Writing Month. The thirty days of November are allotted to complete a fifty-thousand word novel. The novels generally aren't that good- and all you need to do to "win" is to complete the fifty-thousand words, but at the end you still get bragging rights and a pdf certificate that looks pretty snappy framed and on one's wall in the office. I have six of them. It's just as fun the sixth time as it is the second. Last year was a bad experience- circumstances in my life were very stressful, I had no workspace... but I'm very pleased that I still managed to complete it. It was a good lesson in persevering.

As much as I love to write, I find it difficult to do unless I have a deadline or an audience. NaNoWriMo provides both, as I post the novel as I write it and I'm often competing against not only a time deadline, but also a number of friends who choose to participate as well.

NaNo: Because how much does quality really matter?

Usually by the end of the month I'm sick of writing and want nothing other than to sit on the couch with my husband and watch movies and recuperate. But this year I'm going to try something else. I'm going to jump right into my next project- a project that's been ongoing for the past four years and I'm at the point of being sick of making excuses for myself. I started a novel in 2006 which I never finished. I reached 60,000 words in it and stopped at the end of the month. I've gone on to do extensive research and outline for a second draft... but there's always some excuse that comes up. I'm tired after work, there's movies in from Netflix, I need to do laundry and run errands, I need to shampoo my hair, I need to sleep.

But at some point, the excuses need to stop. I work full-time, sure. But we don't have children, outdoor activities are seriously limited since we're snowed under, we have a great office with nice new computer... I have both a cork board and a white board up on the wall for storyboarding and outlining... my husband is extremely supportive of me... no more excuses. I'm ready to start the second draft of "Farr West"- and finally finish it.

Things I Miss Number One: Food

My husband and I love food. He is a chef and we both love cooking, have a passion for unique flavors and always like trying new things. Moving to Montana has been difficult for both of us since our culinary world was so wide in the Northwest and our choices are now limited. No more good Phở, no more sashimi (unless we want to spent a ridiculous amount of money on a couple rolls), no more Lebanese or Afghani... 

So a lot of the time we end up fixing food at home. I've been wanting to try Ash-e Anar (Persian pomegranate soup) for some time. Before we left the Pacific Northwest, I made two purchases from the Lebanese grocery store: some Pomegranate Molasses and a giant tub of sumac, with the intention of using both at some point in the near future.

Local honey, Tazah Pomegranate syrup, pomegranate from friend's orchard.

Several weeks ago a friend in Nevada sent us a box full of small but intensely delicious pomegranates. Thanks to the extended summer we've been having in eastern Montana, the herbs in our garden are still thriving. We finally got the opportunity to use our chives and also used up some of the mint. 

Ground lamb, onions, garlic, mint, cilantro, ground black pepper.

We used this recipe and were not disappointed. The results are distinctly Middle-Eastern and by far one of the most complex flavor experiences I've ever had. The combination of textures- from the tender rice to the split peas, the pomegranate seeds hiding an explosion of that unmistakable pomegranate sweet-and-sour... All of the flavors make their presence known and go together exceedingly well, but don't mesh to the point that they become indistinct or homogenized. 

The two places in town that have exotic spices didn't have Aleppo pepper so we substituted four parts paprika and one part cayenne pepper.

Results: Delicious!

I miss Seattle and all of the choices, but feel very fortunate to have a partner who not only enjoys cooking, but who is incredibly good at it- no matter what cuisine he's fixing.

Emptiness

One of the things that takes some getting used to is the amount of nothingness out here.

To someone who was raised in the greater Seattle area, this type of open space is disorienting, threatening, eerie. It's also very beautiful and serene. But the primary thought that crosses my mind when I venture out of town is at how stark the landscape is.

There are signs of life, reminders of humanity, but they are simply there to facilitate existence elsewhere. Lonely electric lines. Staccato blips of old fencing, most of which doesn't seem to actually serve a purpose of keeping anything in- or anyone out.

A lonely tree in the middle of a flat expanse. A dilapidated barn or homestead sticking out of hard soil like the last rotten tooth in a gum line.

A vivid blue sky broken only by the straightedge of a contrail as the busy people of the world bypass this lonely stretch of America.