Excuse me, but do I know you?

Doppelgängers.

They’re a trick of the mind.

I see them all over the place.

I find myself in mid-greeting, with hand half-raised, ready to hail someone I think I know only to I realize “I don’t,” that they merely resemble someone from back east—sort of. 

Then there’s that vertigo-esque feeling I get when talking to someone and for just a split second I think: “Hang on a sec—how do I know you? From here—from back east?”

Weird.

Really weird!

Stop in mid-sentence kind of weirdness.

It’s doing a number on my mind, leaving me feeling a bit, well... schizophrenic.

It’s hard to explain. 

Maybe my mind—my psyche—is fighting to hang on to my former life as we’ve entered our third year here in Wyoming.

Maybe it’s an adjustment, that everyone experiences, after living in a new place for a while.

It would make for some interesting research.

Research is on my mind, a lot, these days—but that’s another post.

So if I don’t say “hi” to you one of these days, don’t be offended.

It’s because I won’t have figured out if it’s really you, or merely your doppelganger!  

A year old(er)…

My blog is one year old.

Actually, it’s been one-year and 16 days since my first “(Almost) Due West” post.

A lot of time has passed—and a lot of life has happened—since that first post.

I was traveling, without my laptop, on July 11, so I didn’t get to write my anniversary post, which would have gone something like this...

“During this past year, I’ve adjusted to...

A dearth of trees

Constant wind, which I now refer to as a “breeze”

Wearing jackets on the 4th of July

The three seasons in Wyoming—June, July and Winter

Snow in September, April, May and June

Shoveling, not once, not twice, but sometimes thrice on any given day

Learning to drive not just on snow, but on snow and ice packed roads

Ice covered parking lots and learning how to walk like a penguin, so as not to fall

Periods of negative 35 below temperatures

A fairly consistent and shinning sun, warming even the coldest of days by 10 to 15 degrees

College kids wearing shorts, t-shirts and sandals, in 30-degree weather

Having my windshield nicked on the beautiful Wyoming roads, and then crack when the temperature hits below zero

The fact that my windshield may very well get nicked, and crack, again and again

Igloos on wheels, as apparently no laws about cleaning snow off the tops—or sides—of cars seem to be enforced in Wyoming

Shopping at Wal-Mart and a piss-poor Kmart

Driving an hour to shop at Whole Foods, Best Buy, Barnes & Noble, Sam's club, Target or any other big box stores

Traveling two hours to the airport

Five and six year olds biking, or walking, to school, all by their little lonesome

Ominous clouds rolling in off the mountains on any given afternoon and strong winds whipping up as late afternoon thundershowers roll in

The sky clearing and the sun shinning 10 to 15 minutes after said late afternoon thundershowers—just like it never happened

Lighting, one can see for miles and miles

Amazing cloud formations, one can see for miles and miles

Blue sky, one can see for miles and miles

Snow capped “Snowies” in the Medicine Bow National Forest, visible from our living room windows

Sightings of sheep, lama, goats, horses, and pronghorns (with elk and moose being more elusive)

Learning how to spin roving into yarn

Traveling 30 MPH everywhere, in town

Not eating out

Eating better because home is so close to work and school, so there’s more time to cook healthier meals

Being a student again and having to learn how to study, all over again

Having school and work all within a four minute drive from home

Biking to and from work and school

Making new friends

Missing our friends back east

Trying to learn how to write

Trying to learn how to keep an online journal

The realization that we’re not too old to make major life changes

The realization that life can change, dramatically, and still be good

No Diane Rehm, Kojo Namdi, or Michelle Martin

The realization that WPR is every bit as good—if not better—than WAMU

The realization that I now want to live my days in the shadow of a mountain

The sad realization that I probably won’t get to live my days in the shadow of a mountain

The happy fact that I love living in this beautiful state and this small, but welcoming town, though I still can’t say “why,” only that I do.”

Thanks to all who have stayed with me this past year.

I wish I could say “this blog is for you,” when in reality it’s been for me—but I’ve appreciated the support and comments.

Thanks for being here for me...

Real Cow Dudes and Gals

On Sunday, we popped in at the Central Rocky Mountain Region competition of the National Intercollegiate Rodeo Association to have a look see at the University of Wyoming Cowboys and Cowgirls who were roping, riding and competing in all things rodeo…



The competition took place at the UWYO Hansen Center, which is 2 miles out of town, on the way to Centennial.

The Legal Dude didn’t want to go, neither did the teenager.

They don't want to see animals harmed.

Nor do I, for that matter, but I've never been to a real live, front and center rodeo so the Legal Dude acquiesced.

The teenager, who no longer finds us fitting company to spend time with, adamantly refused to go along.

My camera refused to cooperate, so I have nothing but lousy photos to post...



That guy wearing the hat and yellow shirt reminded me of the young Australian actor, Tom Burlinson, who played alongside Kirk Douglas and Sigrid Thornton in the 1982 movie, “The Man from Snowy River.”


Internet photo

Though without the long Australian overcoat.

There's something about cowboy dudes...



Good thing I'm happily married!



Actually, he was the only dude who stayed still long enough for us to try and get a decent photo. I believe the Legal Dude took this one.

I remember a friend telling me about a wedding she attended two years back in Banner, Wyoming, and how the cow dudes looked so handsome in their hats and boots—to which I can attest from my time here—but once the hats and boots came off, they looked just like every other Tom, Dick and Harry (something I am unable to attest to).

An attempt to catch the bucking horse...



I'm told they cinch a belt around the horse’s middle, which is uncomfortable, thus causing them to buck.

Those cow dudes are required to ride for 8 seconds.

These “Dodge" dudes are always there, for when the rider dismounts from his bucking bronco onto the back of their mount. Then one of the Dodge Boys loosens the strap from the still bucking animal...



We saw a few cowboys tossed against the fence and up and down, and a few of them walked away limping.

I love the posture of this horse, who—as his cowboy matter-of-factly walks away from the poor little roped steer—seems to be looking at the audience as if to say...



Yep, that’s my cowboy folks!

Too bad I couldn’t get a cleaner shot…

Getting ready…



The cowboy on the left in the white hat had a mount who threw a little hissy fit...



This little cow gal is bummed! That loop she’s dragging...



was supposed to be lassoed around a little steer.

No animals were injured.

I’d go back.

Is this so terrible of me?

That’s what friends are for…

I‘d been feeling a bit “adrift” as of late.

Friends here told me it was the weather---the sunny, 65º days interspersed between days with snow flurries, freezing temperatures and wind.

I didn’t think it had anything to do with the weather since everyone had warned me it would be like this.


[Early this morning after dropping off the teenager.]

This morning after class, while waking and talking with a new friend, it hit me—the reason I have been feeling adrift as of late.

It has nothing to do with the “adventure” being stale, which is what I was worried it might be.


[This morning the teenager tried to capture the sun peeking through the heavy cloud cover to shine on the Snowies.]

In less than four months, we will have been here a year, which means during this next year we will need to decide what to do about our house back east.

If we sell, I will lose my sense of equilibrium.

I have had a fixed address in the D.C. area for 32 years—somewhere to call home and a place to always return to.

Without a fixed address, I will feel un-tethered, adrift so to speak, or like Tom Petty, who is perpetually “free, free fallin.”

I feel this HUGE sense of relief!


[Ditto: another shot by the teenager]

Feeling off kilter has nothing to do with being unhappy here, which is what had me worried.

No. Instead, it has to do with a fear of feeling stateless—homeless—landless.

Okay. I over dramatize. I have a home here, in Laramie.

However, it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks…

Change is hard, and takes time getting used to—even if one happens to like the change.

So now, I know and I thank my new friend, for helping me to see what I could not see on my own.

I guess that’s what friends are for…

Dance…

The teenager went to his first dance this evening.

He didn’t dance though. He said he just hung out and talked with his buddies.

At least he went.

It was his bb coach’s doing.

He told the team they really needed to go since a lot of people had spent time pulling it all together.

He didn’t “make” them go, just said that they should.

Nice lesson, and a nice and surprising response from the teenager…he does that sometimes.

Deja Vu

I’ve been here before...



We may have even used this same text...



It was more than 3 decades ago, but I remember.

The question(s) now, however, are...

Do I remember how to take notes?
Will I be able to follow the lecture and take notes?
Am I able to follow the lecture, take notes AND keep up?
Am I capable of all of the above AND be able to make heads or tales of what I wrote…in those notes?!

Aah…I remember.

I HAVE been here before...

A bittersweet New Year’s Eve…

Yesterday evening was New Year’s Eve...

Like you, we celebrated…and bid adieu to...a year gone by as we welcomed in the New Year.

In reality though, our “New Year” began nearly 5 months ago...when we drove into Laramie, Wyoming, and started this new chapter in our lives.

I’m glad I can say that it’s been (mostly) a good 5 months...adjusting to a new home, new friends and a completely different way of life.

This morning, though, I’m feeling just a smidge melancholic.

Hard to say why...but then I always feel a bit this way every New Year.

Maybe it’s the residual after-effect of celebrating.

You know...with the bubbly stuff.

Maybe it’s because I’d forgotten that we’re so far from home...and from friends with whom we’ve celebrated so many a New Year’s Eve.

Last night we celebrated with some new friends...neighbors who live up the street.

There were six of us plus two kid-lets and, of course, the teenager.

It was very nice and pleasant sitting in front of the fire-place, eating tapas-like finger foods and a slow cooked chicken madras dish by the Legal Dude, all the while chatting and laughing.

Even though it was all pulled together at the very last minute, we were organized and ready and I had an opportunity to really visit and chat with our guests...something that I missed at our parties back in Arlington.

It was nice...but different. But definately a nice different.

The Legal Dude and I talked about it this morning.

We determined what was different, and what we miss, is the “activity”---the planning, the preparation, the cooking and the execution of the party...and for me, the decorating and setting up---and of course, all our friends.

So while we had a great time and enjoyed celebrating in our new home with some new friends, it was a bittersweet occasion as we miss what we used to have...and do...every New Year’s Eve for the past 4-5 years.

But hey! There’s another new year...next year.

Who knows?

We might just have to start a new tradition here...

Wishing you all the best as you start your New Year.

Photo Metaphor…

My NPR thermos I got a year or two ago for making my annual donation.



I love this thermos.

Sadly, it now leaks.

My re-purposed thermos, which will now sit in my craft room.


Life means…making adjustments.

BTW: Apologies to the English majors (or writers) out there: I have no idea whether one can have a “photo metaphor” for one’s life…but I like the concept.

Life…with a teenager

Who is this strange young man who looks amazingly like our son, but increasingly has the personality of a lemon…sour!

We’ll…maybe not ALL the time.

Who is this contrary young man who refutes and rebuts everything we say?

Who is this boy, whose recent favorite phrase---“That’s just awesome”---really means “Would you please just leave me alone.”

How did this happen?

When did he become this…teenager (especially without our knowledge or our consent)?

It seems like it just happened…overnight.

When we arrived in Laramie, he still resembled our “little” boy…albeit, maturing.

In three short weeks he’s become someone we’ve never met before.

I’m not sure I like it. Not so much that he’s becoming non-communicative, or a smart aleck or full of sarcasm.

No. What I don’t like…what scares me…is my boy, nay, my “child,” is growing up.

I’m just not ready for it---not now.

Too much has changed in our lives. Too many firsts and new beginnings are fast coming our way and I’m just not ready to share my home with…a teenager.

[Sigh…]

Someone just told me that 13 year olds “disappear,” but then they return...around age 20.

[Double sigh…]

Yep. Life...it’s a changing.