Providence

Sometimes, I feel that rainfall is the direct result upon the window to the soul. Happiness cannot be dampened by actual wetness, and melancholy will be forever prolonged by it. It is, however; seemingly difficult to be melancholic while the sun is beating upon you. It is, therefore, to be concluded, that it is in fact, easier, to be happy. Unless, one lives in London. Which could be why so many prolific writers are indeed, British. The weather here has been dreary to the point of flooding. In fact, massive flooding that the area has not seen in many years. The mountains are weeping their Spring tears, and the clouds, add to the swell of the rivers daily. Our little valley has indeed become more river than valley.

Although I fear I may die of dampness, I have always been extreme in my emotions, dying, also meaning, slightly uncomfortable. Yet, it moves me to actually believe in the contrast of life. For, without bad, good cannot exist, without melancholy, there cannot be happiness, and without rain, sunshine can never be appreciated.

Hunting and Vitamins (Not necessarily related)

Photo by CleanWalmart

Today, it rained, snowed, and I got a sunburn.  Other than that, it was a pretty ok day.  I was thinking when it was snowing, that I think that AARP and Wal-Mart are in league with one another.  Then it started raining, and I thought about global warming, and that maybe, just for a few days, I could use some of it.  And what do you know, Mother Nature said “yes Jessica, I will grant you global warming” and the sun came out, and I got a driving arm burn.  I love you Mother Nature.

In better news, I bought my elk and deer tags for next fall.  Hopefully, I will be better at shooting large animals than I am at building houses.  Kevin has the philosophy that we should begin our master hunting careers with small game, like birds.  First of all, I don’t like birds, and although I do in fact enjoy eating them, I think I have a better chance at hitting an elk.  And just think about the days I can spend looking for the perfect “I’m a badass huntress” knife to carry about on my belt.  Oh, the glory of it all.

I saw a man today with the worst case of snaggletooth I’ve ever seen.  His tooth was literally an inch long and sticking out of his mouth.  And, I hate to pass judgment on intelligence because of snaggleteeth.  I mean, maybe the guy couldn’t get a good dentist, or can’t find a way to pull it.  But, as it turns out, he works at a specialty bolt shop, and gave me non-matching nuts and bolts.  So, really he wasn’t very intelligent.  So, I can’t really feel bad about calling Snaggletooth a stupid head.  I bet he shops at Wal-Mart too.

The best news by far though, is I found out that our neighbor across the street from the new house (which is actually a basement with no house on it) invented the vitamin aisle at Wal-Mart and is a multi-millionare because of it.  I mean, I hate to talk about Wally World so much, but really, I live next to the lady that invented the vitamin aisle.  If I ever meet her, I will get her autograph.

Diesel, Milk, and Hilary Clinton

[Editor's note: I didn't edit this at all!]

Wow!  Contrary to popular belief, I have not caught a case of the grizzly maiming death as it were.  Not even a case of acute influenza.  In fact, I am still alive.  (insert ominous terrible 80’s movie sound clip here).

Although, I can’t exactly say what I’ve been doing the past couple of weeks, I’m pretty sure it was a lot.  You can infer a witty comment like ‘no rest for the weary’ here, but I didn’t say it.

Missoula was visited by both Obama, and Clinton this past weekend.  I didn’t go.  I feel like it’s this last stitch effort on their parts, that both of them never thought would ever have to come about.  Reading and being briefed about Montana life; our fine governor said it all:  it was something to the effect of ‘We like our guns in Montana.  We like shotguns, rifles, and revolvers.  Don’t attempt to take them away.  We all know how to use them’.  Mind you, this is paraphrased, as I read it this morning in the paper, and it’s not twelve hours later, so who knows how convoluted it’s become after being in my brain for that amount of time.  He probly said ‘we like kittens in Montana’.  And although, where that is true, we don’t like cats, so we’d rather just get rid of the lot.

My neighbor that looks like Sasquatch, seems to have shed his winter coat, and it turns out, he is actually a human.  Although, I still like to call him Sasquatch, really, who wouldn’t.

The best news by far though, since I’ve been elusive, is that I ventured into the local bar wearing a full outfit of tar and diesel.  With clothes underneath.  Those that weren’t revolted, were oddly attracted.  Like they’ve never smelled diesel before.  I like the smell of diesel, because it reminds me of my dad.  My mother, however, hates it, because my dad made her whole house smell like it.  I suppose it’s all a perspective thing.

I don’t have anything useful to say really, which is perhaps why I’ve been silent lately.  I chalk it up to laziness though.  Laziness, and the fact that I haven’t really had too much to complain about.  Until today.  I’m not sure if I got annoyed at my own stupidity, or at the world in general.  I haven’t been feeling exactly right lately.  Not exactly ill, just, not I want to go sing to the clouds because everything is right in life.  Kind of more like I’d be good company for cows, chewing cud and such.  And, I seldom feel like a cow.  So, this morning, much to my dismay, my morning brew (coffee for you sikkos), tasted a bit sour.  Guaranteed, it was the end of the bean bag, but, that should make anything sour.  So, I smelled my milk.  (which is $5 a gallon now).  The whole problem was sour milk.  No wonder my tummy didn’t feel singing happy.  The date on it wasn’t even for four more days.  The injustice of it all.

Life’s Too Short for Bad Cuts of Meat

    I was standing in below freezing weather (below zero if you’re Canadian) in an eight foot hole, slightly larger than the basement of my almost-ready-to-be-built house yesterday afternoon.  Well, I guess it was more like early evening, this whole daylight savings a month early is screwing with my system.  Nearly as much as the plague that won’t go away that makes me sound like Satan.  

    Anyway.  I was standing in this hole, that will eventually be a basement, talking with two sub-contractors and Kevin.  Our subs were rapidly consuming a 12 pack of Kokanee (a local version of Milwaukee’s Best, but is slightly better, because there is a hidden Sasquatch on a mountain on the Kokanee can) and telling old stories about the area.  One of them, owns his own Outfitting business, and raises horses.  The other likes to eat horses. 

    No lies.  I promise.  I’m not even stretching the truth on this one.  It was brought up that the prices of mules were way down, so maybe he should try eating mule.  This was emphatically denied as even a possibility, as nothing could touch horsemeat, and cheap mule was probly ‘old and tough anyway’.  

    The good news, is I found out we can build a horse pasture, and hopefully get a couple of free horses.  The bad news, I was forced to drink a can of really cheap beer.  

Lots of Love for Small Towns

There’s something to be said about living in a small town.  It’s been more than a couple of years since I’ve lived in a ‘wave to your neighbors’ town.  The last town I lived in, if someone waved at you, it meant ‘are you a hooker’?  Lord love Las Vegas I guess.  Someone has to. 
I live in a bitty town, big enough for a bar, that also pumps gas, and serves as the general store.  Suffice to say, it’s a popular place.  We have no post office, bank, or our own telephone exchange.  Cellular phones do not work.  And we like it that way.  I can’t take a walk down the street to my mailbox (that’s over a half mile away) without every car that passes stopping to make sure I don’t need a lift.  This may seem pretty Green Acres, but I assure you, there are rules.  Or at least, one major one.

I haven’t actually met any of my neighbors, but if on any street in the ‘town’ (I think it’s technically more of a hamlet) that has let’s say six or less cars passing on the hour, you are required by neighborly law to give a courtesy wave.  I enjoy the courtesy wave myself, so I don’t mind.  It’s kind of nerve-wracking at times though.  Through most of the winter, my concentration tends to be on getting to the main road (more than six cars an hour travel on it.  Sometimes.) alive.  It can get pretty slippery, and slushy, and icy and all three of the aforementioned at once, on a ‘paved’ road, that’s more potholes than pavement.  All this, in a rear wheel drive SUV.  (again we explore the amount of blond hair coloring was added to the purchase of said vehicle). 

The short version is, it’s difficult to get in or out.  Especially when another car is coming.  But, hot damn, if you forget the courtesy wave, you’ll have neighbors coming out of the woodwork to stare at your house like ‘what are those dirty scoundrels going to do next’ yet, if the courtesy wave is given, even in times of visible duress, the same neighbors may just show up with fresh cinnamon rolls, instead of a scowl.  So, you see, it is pretty important. 

Tapping Maple Trees

I woke up today thinking about the smile that would hit my face as soon as I smelled that first whiff of morning coffee. I am definitely of the opinion, that coffee is most enjoyed in the morning, and although, also enjoyable in the afternoon, or late evening, if I’m drinking it then, it most likely means I have to stay awake for some reason. Which I’m not a huge fan of.

Smelling coffee is nearly as good as drinking it in my book. So, I sat in front of my bay window upstairs, drank my coffee and slipped into contentment. The sun was coming in at just the correct angle that I could lay my head against my chair back and have to shut my eyes because of brightness. The sun is rising earlier every morning. It’s beginning to smell like Spring outside, although, I’ve lived through the February thaw ruse too many times to believe it. It’s difficult to ignore the smells of the season though. I have that odd sense that I should be walking through the woods tapping maple trees.
I lost the morning like that.

I’ve been a bit lonely lately. Not, I’m so depressed I don’t know what to do lonely, just that nagging sense of wanting something that isn’t here. I suppose it makes me more introspective than usual. Normally, I spend the sunny part of the morning spoiling my pepper plants and whispering them sweet nothings. Today, I spoiled, well, me.

I sat in the sun with the window open. I smelled the not-quite-Spring air, and wondered what blustery weather it still had in store. I stoked the fire in the stove, and listened to the wind travel through the pines. For the first time in my life, I didn’t think. About anything. I reveled in the moment that stretched into an hour.

I came out of it when I realized I had to pee. But, it was nice, that hour. It’s amazing sometimes what can recharge you, and make you think about the things that you have to fill you, and not the things you have lost that threaten to sweep you away.

Bad News and Good News

Bad News

Taxes. What a horrible time of year. I really don’t know anyone that doesn’t hate them. Rob from the poor, give to the rich, good job George W. In recent years, I haven’t been affected so much, I take my W-4’s down to H&R, they calculate it for me, and then I get a check in the mail. Easy right?Wrong. Not this year. This year, on top of over ten-thousand dollars I’ve already given to the government, they want to take more, because I, number one, am not actively populating the country, and number two, am not legally wed. So, basically, I just give the government all of my money, because I obviously have no husband or children to spend it on. And what the hell is FICA anyway. Damnit.
I won’t even go into having to pay state taxes to states that I have never lived in, nor will ever live in. It makes me a bit angry. And you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. I’m not sure the particular type of green I turn, because I don’t often look in the mirror at such times, but I’m pretty sure it’s an ugly puce type color. I also like to think I start talking like Rambo, the gutteral, I can only understand 4 words out of 10 type of delusional psycho. I even have a red bandana.

Anyways, enough of my temper. In good news, George W. has also proposed to cut forestry spending by quite a large sum of money. To fund his war. Oh wait, that’s not good news. It just means most of my state will be out of work, and or forced to retire early. Sorry, Montana, you get screwed because you like your trees. The good news is, that the wild land fire budget is actually 48% of the budget. That’s good news. We won’t die in fires, but by wintertime, we have no money to pay snowplow drivers. So, we’ve been given death by ice instead of fire. Thanks for making that choice for us George.
I’m really not a government hater. I just hate this government. And really, if I were rich, I’d love it. So, I guess you can call me selfish. It’s ok, I don’t mind.

Good News

The real good news of the day though, is, I’ve finally gotten rid of the horrible, horrible
coffee that I took a gamble on buying. I lost that one. But boy, did I learn my lesson. Less is more people, less is more. When you’re a coffee addict… stay with what you like, and if you want to try something new, kudos to you! But, buy it in a little bag. Don’t go for the industrial sized Costco bag and have no backup. I guess we can’t be intelligent all the time.

The Almost-Crash That Would Have Been Famous

(Not Sasquatch or his snow-plow)

I nearly ran over Sasquatch today. Seriously.

Mother Nature decided to be blustery again today, in other words, blizzards are not just for January anymore. So, that being said, of course, I drove into town in my rear wheel drive SUV. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one dumb enough to have purchased a two-wheel drive SUV. It’s things like these that prove I’m a natural blonde. Anyway, I digress. It’s not the going into town that was momentous, it was coming home. On the home stretch, I tend to go a bit faster, I’ll admit, I like to spin out a bit, do a little skid action. Really, the worst that can happen is I hit a snow bank. And get towed out by my more intelligent better half, who bought a real four-wheel drive car. Or, so I thought. Today happened to be the day, at the exact time I was coming home, that Sasquatch was cleaning the snowplow attachment on his station wagon. With his girlfriend.

That could be a whole segment in itself. Dating Sasquatch: The Insider Story. Maybe I’ll interview her. At any rate, I’m driving up the road, fishtailing and singing Brad Paisley tunes about whiskey and mud, when all I can really see is the engulfing mass of Sasquatch ass. Bending over his snowplow. I, expert snow driver that I am, swerve to slow down and stop before I run over him. Good thing he’s deaf, because he could have really been not to pleased with me for destroying Brad Paisley tunes like that. If there’s one thing I am, it’s pretty tone deaf.

I think this should be an inspirational story though. I’m pretty sure the moral is definitely not, no fishtailing in your vehicle for fun. I think the real point here, is, guys, come on, Sasquatch has a girlfriend, it can’t be that difficult.

Blizzards!

I’m pretty good at getting random injuries for no reason.  Some call it being accident-prone.  I call it painful.  I won’t go into grave detail, but I’ve been having dreams about having to have my toe amputated.  I stubbed it, and now it’s swollen and turning purple.  If I got it amputated, I think I would start a contest and call it  the ‘stupidest injuries with the gravest consequences’ contest.  I would, of course rig it so that I won.  So, I guess it wouldn’t be that great of a contest.  Second place would be a real achievement though.
It’s a real good thing it didn’t pick today to fall off though.  We’re having a blizzard!  I still think it’s funny how blizzards make me little-kid-excited and shake like a puppy with pleasure.  I’m really glad that the weather here isn’t fickle like it is in other places.  I mean, if it’s going to snow, it’s going to snow.  It’s not going to start snowing and then an hour later turn into a massive rainstorm that then turns into hail and a huge tornado.  You get my point.  I think the best thing about blizzards though, is it’s like a free day.  It’s the best excuse not to go to work, or to school, or even go to your mailbox if you don’t want to.  It is the best excuse to be lazy on the planet.  And oh, the sledding that can be done!  If I wanted to, I could even hide out and snipe Sasquatch with snowballs.  Just because it’s snowing.  And it makes me happy when it snows.  

King of the Birds?

 

I was thinking today, that a little over two hundred and thirty years ago, there were discussions, and debates over what the American National Bird would be.  The thought made me laugh in itself, because Benjamin Franklin wanted it to be a turkey.  I can’t imagine how anyone would take us seriously.  It’s like being afraid of a milk cow, I mean sure they’re important, but wouldn’t you pay more attention, to say, a lion?  A tiger? A renegade cow loving moose?  I digress.

The Bald Eagle.  A majestic choice really.  I think it helps that they’re rare enough that any time one is flying by, everyone stops and stares.  I’ve even seen people stop their cars to take photos.  For some reason, they inspire a kind of grace in you when you see them swooping through the air, and they really do seem like the king of birds. 

Except for today, when I was driving down the highway and saw three of them picking away at a road killed deer carcass.  They didn’t seem so regal then.  Squawking and picking through the crows and magpies to get their share.  Of road kill.  What kind of king do you know that eats road kill?  I sure don’t know any. 

I figure, maybe if I dressed up like a bird, I could be their king.  I mean, if the only requirement is not eating road kill, I think I could resist the urge, just to get the title.  Jessica: King of the Birds.  I guess I would have to be a Queen.  And have to care about birds.  Maybe I wouldn’t be such a good king after all.

It was overall a really weird bird day.  I was shoveling gravel for our new driveway.  (Such a fun task… sigh… the lumberjacking is over.  Time for the less fun manual labor) So, I’m shoveling, and I hear this rasping type of scream that kind of sounds like a choking hawk.  I never actually saw it, but it was defiantly a hawk.  I hope it wasn’t actually choking.  Hopefully, it just had a bird form of Alzheimer’s and forgot how to do it’s cool hawk scream.