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.

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.

[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.

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. 

At three years old, when most of my peers wanted to be cupcakes and spaceships when they grew up, I wanted to be a Paleontologist. Seemingly similar, but not really, I ended up with a degree in Anthropology instead. Which, is ok. Instead of dinosaur migratory and flocking patterns, I know about human flocking patterns. Trust me, you may not think so, but humans flock.

Anyway, with that said, my so called ‘nerd’ side revealed, (I like to think of it as the interesting, intellectual side myself) I was watching the Discovery Channel the other night, when a special came on about the actuality of recreating Dinosaur DNA. I, of course, was riveted. I hope some other people watched it too. It was so interesting that they better make a follow-up on it. I’ll cover the major points:

• Number One: soft tissue has been discovered in dinosaur bones, whereas it was previously thought that soft tissue was eradicated a couple of thousand years into the fossilization process.
  
• Number Two: Can we in fact, from this soft tissue/complete cells with nuclei discovery piece together the actual DNA strand of dinosaurs and clone them? Answer: not at this time, nor likely ever.
  
• Number Three: The most popular theory around is that some dinosaurs in fact evolved into birds for the survival of their race. We can take that theory, look at the DNA chain of modern birds, work back from their genetic makeup and from there re-create the dinosaur.

Pretty interesting stuff. To me, at least. The best part about it, is scientists have been studying modern day chickens for these tests. They have found out some astounding things, that have apparently been in front of our faces since the chicken arrived from it’s egg, (dinosaur egg?) we just haven’t actually studied it until now. It’s in the process of further investigation, but in the embryology lab, it has been discovered that modern chickens in fact have all of the genetic makeup of their forefathers; evolution has just turned the genes off from maturing.

Conclusion being, if the genes are turned back on, chickens can grow sharp teeth, dinosaur tails with up to 16 vertebra, scaly legs with three toed claws, and indeed arms with three fingered clawed hands. Feathers… optional. I wonder if they would still cluck. Keep in mind, this is all embryological at this point.

Wouldn’t it be interesting though, in ten or twenty years, to have a mutant chicken farm? Chickens with long tails, or clawed-hand arms. Funny as the mental image is, going back to the famous Jurassic Park line that in this entry is completely paraphrased ‘everyone is so obsessed with the can we recreate dinosaurs, but have never stopped to think should we?’

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.

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.