singing mountains, shouting rocks
So here I sit in the lobby of the Bozeman Holiday Inn, surrounded by lots and lots of wood and not a single, breathing soul except for the guy behind the front desk who is pretending not to look at me, but who I peek at every few minutes and catch staring in my direction. Could be that he is wondering why the heck this girl is sitting here at 12:30 am, typing and pausing and typing and pausing, as if she actually has something meaningful to offer?Isn't it funny -- me, the girl who used to be anti-technology and an advocate of real letters instead of e-letters -- sneaking out of my hotel room (leaving my mom safely dozing in bed) to come get my fix of a few moments in front of a computer screen. What has become of me? I was perfectly happy this week with no internet (and almost no tv), but then I spotted the computer when we were checking in tonight ... and it was like I was powerless to the force. Yikes.
I really should go to bed (since it's actually 2:30 am in my body's usual time zone), so I'll keep this short. But just let me say ... Montana. Wow. This place is amazing. I think I may have found a new favorite state. AND the great thing ... you can listen to country music, and even have it audible when you're pumping gasoline, and people actually look at you and smile instead of writing you off as some kind of redneck freak. Yes, I admit, I am a closet country music fan. I love the stuff. And I'm not just talking about Wilco and Uncle Tupelo and Sun Volt and all the other "alt-country" stuff ... I'm talking trucks and women leaving and fishing songs, and twang and drawls -- the real thing.
Yeah, the mountains and the plateaus and the neverending skies are pretty cool too. The other night I actually watched the stars come out. Seriously, I sat on the porch of our cabin and witnessed single dots of light appear in the sky. Needless to say, I had a pretty good chat with God that night about how awesome He is.
Well, I'm off to wish a good night to the frightened front desk clerk. Until next week ...
3 Comments:
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Talk about strange. I know someone from Montana. And I think he's from Bozeman, actually. That's uber-weird.
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