Last, best

... It occurred to me the other day that, while this Montana thing is probably my end-all-be-all, you've been to India and New Zealand and the Upper Peninsula. It's only the "end" of my road, just another of your One of the Best Places. ...

Chasing her down the block ...

Tuesday night at the Brewery, I saw a girl I'd never seen before (very rare here, especially this time of year). I fantasized about talking to her, but I didn't. The more I looked at her, the more she seemed familiar, like we'd met before, but I couldn't place it. She was dressed awkwardly, very not-giving-a-shit: a floral print dress over white long underwear, well-worn hiking boots, a silly floppy-eared hat. It wasn't until she left that I realized that life is too short to not talk to her. I chased her down the block. I don't remember how I introduced myself or what we talked about on the block-and-a-half walk to her car. I don't remember her name. I do remember her telling me that she was in Whitefish visiting a friend, was spending Thanksgiving in Polebridge, works for the Bob Marshall Wilderness Council, and, of course, lives in Missoula. The next day, lying in bed, I thought about her more and realized how I remembered her. I had never met her before; she looked a lot like Rose, E.T.'s sister. E.T. and I, Rose and her boyfriend (now husband), John, and E.T.'s parents went to a wedding in Morningside years ago. We all spent the night at E.T.'s parent's house in Irwin. At four in the morning, Rose and I were the only two still awake. We were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from a bottle of tequila. I don't remember what we talked about, but I distinctly remember her asking me if I thought E.T. and I would get married. "If we can make it through the next six months, I think we'll spend the rest of our lives together." We only made it four more ...

BigSkyBully is BagSkiBalle

For the ADD in all of us: BagSkiBalle.

Canadians/Comedians ...

Living in an almost-border town, Canadians consistently double our population on the weekends. They come here to avoid the commie Canadian taxes, buy electronics at the Best Buy in Kalis-hell, and drink their faces off. They come in tuques -- not wool caps or knit hats. Locally chided as "Comedians," Canadians are despised by everyone but the business-owners. I'm often reminded how I "wouldn't be here" if it wasn't for the Canadians supporting our economy. I live in Whitefish, but I'm a teacher -- I'm in it, but I'm not a part of it. I can't come up with a valid reason why I'm as reactionary as the rest, though. It's bullshit, really. This summer a Canadian in a Hummer (license plate "HUMMMER"), probably drunk, ran a stop sign in the middle of town. I yelled at her, "Stop at stop signs!" She yelled back, "Fuck you!" When I told this story, the frequent reaction was to lump the Canadian nation together, all five Providences Hummer-driving-drunk-drivers. Sort of stupid, ay?

We've been walking in the woods a lot lately ...

Cody and I at Skiumah Lake, Great Bear Wilderness Area. Hugs for puppies ...


Chris, Anna, and I enjoy the view from our bush-whacked, almost-summit of Link Mountain, Whitefish Range. We could not make the summit before dark ...


A long drive to the Finger Lake trail head, Tally Lake Region, a short walk to Finger Lake. Cody and Althea getting at it ...