Snowed-In Sunday

Snow. It’s just three days until June, until SUMMER, and we have a foot of snow outside.  I am very happy for the winter gear I picked up in Buffalo last week, particularly for the fleece jacket and waterproofing spray.

Snow means that I did not make it to church today, although I did have every intention of going, so I think I get points for that. I got up before everyone else (not a difficult task, there was a party last night and most of the others were sleeping off their alcohol) and took a shower. As I was rinsing my hair in the shower, the power flickered off and on. It did the same thing a few days ago, and after a few flickers we had lost power for a few hours, so I figured we were about to lose it again. I was right. Three minutes later it started flickering again, and down it went. The water did not go with it, fortunately, so I stood in the dark for a few minutes more, enjoying the warmth.  I played the ‘what if I was blind’ game as I groped around in the dark for my towel and bathrobe, and frowned briefly as I realized that no power meant wet hair for another hour.  Having nothing else to do, I got dressed up like I was still going to church.

The cowboys took quick advantage of the snow, and packed snow against out front and back doors. !! We were stuck inside for a while then, because they made the walls pretty strong and thick. We knocked them down eventually.

Power down meant that the heater was down also, so it was getting dang cold in the Hen House. Then I remembered a rumor that over at the Bunkhouse (Men’s Housing) they had a woodstove. So Mary and I went on over there and sure enough, there was Ethan, melting snow into a coffee pot (the water had failed at this point, too) and spreading butter into a dutch oven in preparation for breakfast over a woodstove. I was suddenly not sorry at all that we are all snowed in and the power was out. Ethan was a good sport and made breakfast enough for Mary and I as well. Then we all sat around, talking while I mended my dress, and feeling very much like pioneers. After about a half hour the cowboys who were out haying the stock came back, and let a lot of cold air in with them as they stomped the snow off of their boots and shook snow from their coats and hats. They looked surprised to see Mary and I, but they didn’t tell us to split, so we hung around. 

In true Western character, Ethan broke out his fiddle, Jackson his mandolin, Bartender Mike his guitar and they all started jammin’. Soon we had a good jam going, and we all stomped our feet and sang and even danced a little. They cowboys were drinking (of course) but it was a rambunctious, happy time.

I’ve noticed that Nikona doesn’t drink as much as most of the other cowboys, and I caught him praying over his food a few days ago. Maybe Nikona would make a good friend out here. I like all the cowboys here, tho. I haven’t met a one I don’t like quite a lot. 

The Cinderella Week

This week has been so great. It started off with a massive snowball fight. As I predicted, the boys beat the girls. BIG SURPRISE GUYS. Who guessed that the MEN might beat the WOMEN. It was fun anyhow. However,  the women did manage to get the men angry enough to necessitate retaliation. Please observe the below picture. They guys came by and packed snow against the door, from the ground to the top to the door, and created a wall about a foot thick, of which we could not get out. We had to go around to the back door to get out and knock the dang wall down so we could get to breakfast. km65th[
 Sorry. That was Adam.
Adam is one of the fools who made the snow wall. He is proud of himself. He is sitting next to me as I type.

Oh, the adventures. And also this week, the toilet started spouting bubbles. I do not know who painted the fine artwork all around the toilet, but it sure makes for a fine, scenic kind of pee. I was in the next room, minding my own business, washing out some dirty buckets, and I kept hearing mysterious swamp monster noises coming from the ladies restroom. Finally I was overcome with curiosity and ventured over to investigate. Bubbles were, well, bubbling in the toilet!!! WTF!!! I hollered for the other girls and we all marveled over it for a while, but soon we realized that it was getting taller and taller, so we ran to find some men. The men fixed it. :)

And Thursday found me and my new friends (from left to right; Riana, Rachel, me and Liz) cleaning fireplaces. There are 18 cabins and all of them have fireplaces, many of them have multiple fireplaces. So Thursday found us four maids scrubbing charcoal and ashes from them. Sweep out the fireplace, the scrub it til it shines, then restock the woodpile. Eight hours later found us silly, giggling and covered in soot. After work we all jumped on Liz's bed and took some sweet pics.

This Week: I Dub Thee the Cinderella Week

First Impressions of a Potential Adventure

The whole way up to Wyoming I was praying, "Please dear God, let this Jeep get me where I'm going."  I would like to aknowldge that as a prayer perfectly answered.
In Elko I even had a small adventure which had me sleeping in the back of said Jeep. Jeep is taking good care of me. But I haven't got a name for it yet. Any ideas? Keep in mind that this is a MAN jeep, not a WOMAN jeep, so it has to be named something like Butch and not Princess.
My first impressions of Paradise Ranch was something like "WTF it is freezing here." I had wisely been keeping tabs on the temperature of Buffalo for some time, but what I did not know is that Paradise Ranch is in the tops of the freaking mountains. Aren't most ranches in valleys? It's a steady 10*s lower than Buffalo here. So I was freezing to death, but I had been very careful to prepare to make a solid first impression on my new psuedo-family. My hair was perfectly curled, and my clothes were decidedly not cowboy/rugged mountain wear. I don't have to fit into a mold, no matter where I go. I'll earn my stripes along with everyone else, and I won't look like a man while doing it. As fate would have it, I arrived at Paradise right on time for dinner, so I got to meet the crew right off. A lot of the wranglers were there, tho I'm still having trouble putting names and faces together. Most workers here are from Wyoming, but a few of us come from quite a variety of places. My roommate Mary (whom I love and adore) is from Georgia. We help each other to not eat too much, make sure all the girls have friends, and decide what sexy undewear to buy from Walmart. We also started having Bible Study as of tonight, because we are trying hard to be good, God-fearing folk.
It's late, and I've got a full day of work ahead of me. Goodnight for now.

Osama bin Laden is dead at last.

Doug told me that he figured bin Laden had been offed by a random bomb or one of his own men years ago, and I always figured that was a distinct possibility as well. But it's nice to know for sure now.

Do you remember where you were when the planes hit the Twin Towers? I was at school, Spanish Springs High- and I remember the rumors around school; 'someone's bombed the Pentagon', and it was first time I had heard that word 'terrorist'. Ten years ago, my God, I was almost fifteen years old then, and my friend Jeremy would have been sixteen. Ten years. Paige and I skipped out of school early to run home and check out the news. We turned on the news just in time to see that awful clip we've all seen- the second plane hitting the towers. I didn't know what it meant, and I wondered how many more planes had been hijacked by these 'terrorists'. I remember feeling afraid- and angry. I don't know if Jeremy ever felt afraid, but I know he was angry. Two, maybe three years later Jeremy left us to join the Army, to fight for freedom and to protect us. I remember him so well. His heart was made of gold. Osama bin Laden and his Al-Qaeda killed him; they killed Jeremy in some far away place called Fallujah. I felt something in my heart die when I heard the news.

And ten years later, I heard more news. Bin Laden's dead. One of my first thoughts was about Jeremy. If Jeremy was alive he'd be about twenty-six, probably married to Melissa and have a few kids. Osama bin Laden's death will not bring Jeremy back to us; or any of the thousands of Jeremys who have died in this war. But it gave me some peace in my heart, maybe some closure or something.

He's gone, Jeremy. They killed him. We killed him. You killed him.
Thank you.
I miss you.