Photo Dump

First, we drove from Libby, MT to Conner, MT and then to Spokane, WA.

Somewhere along there, we passed geese. And goslings.

Then we ended up back in Colville, WA. The Rodeo Parade was through one day we were there.

Here's the whole thing. No, really, the whole thing:

Admittedly, it wasn't Carnival or Mardi Gras. However, these pictures were taken standing in my motel room door, still in my workout clothes, so it gets bonus points for ease of attendance and accessibility.

Libby, MT

I expect this story will lose something in translation, but I have to try.

View from the hotel

That speck is a bald eagle

But it's still in Libby, Montana...

Seriously.

Really seriously.

My sister and I have the kind of relationship where no one can make us laugh harder than the other. The more inappropropriate the timing, the harder we can make each other laugh. We intentionally sat apart at our father's funeral so we wouldn't laugh uproariously and inappropriately through it. Also, she worries about me living on the road (there are windy curves). And in the city (they are big). And in small towns (I blend). That's the background you need to know for this story to not be as funny as it was but...


Earlier this month, Lithus got moved from Molalla, OR to Libby, MT. It's a 3 hour flight for a helicopter and an 11 hour drive for a Land Rover. So, by the time I get there, I'm tired. The room we are in, however, is a closet. An 80 dollar a night closet. But Lithus has made arrangements for us to move to another motel, two blocks down and one block over tomorrow morning. I, overly tired and stressed over things that don't matter to this story (but are okay), don't sleep well that night.


Tomorrow morning comes, Lithus takes almost all the luggage in the car to work, leaving me with my backpack and my computer to take two blocks down and one block over to the new motel. Only, as I am leaving, I realize we have forgotten my pillow and I have to move it, as well. Off I go, streaked hair, Pagan tattoo, dragging my computer behind me, with my pillow under my arm, wandering the streets of Libby, MT. The surreal nature of the moment kicks in, so I text my sister. She asks if I am at least wearing my leopard print pumps, to which I reply that no, I am not, and that's a good thing because that would push me over the edge. Is Lithus with me? No, he's not.

The McDonald's. And the liquor store. And one of the murals. But mostly, the McDonald's.

Oh, look, there's a McDonald's. I tuck into the McDonald's, get a coffee, ignore the stares, and settle into a booth. She texts me back: Ummmm...Sister...are you okay???????

Overly tired, stressed, and wandering around a strange town with my pillow, I proceed to lose my shit. I am laughing so hard I am choking. My face is buried in the wall of the booth. My body is shaking. Concerned I am not replying, my sister calls me. At this point, the restaurant has Gone. Silent. I know I can't not answer the phone, but I also can't speak anywhere close to quietly. Instead, I answer and manage to choke out "I'm okay. I'm laughing." Which gets her laughing. Which gets me laughing.

The little old couple sitting behind me actually get up and move, I have scared and scarred them so badly. I finally manage to collect myself enough to stop crying and speak to my sister. Who asks "WHY ARE YOU WANDERING AROUND WITH YOUR PILLOW WITHOUT LITHUS????" as if wandering around with my pillow AND Lithus is something that would be completely normal. And I lose my shit again.

 And that was my way of introducing myself to Libby, Montana.

What's Real

Over at my Pobble Thoughts site, I tell you I'm a quivering mass of contradictions. I'm not sure I have ever written a post here at Stilettos that embodies that concept more than this one.

Lithus and I are, once again, with a great ground crew. It's spring, moving into summer, which means the cookouts have started. So we stand around a parking lot or a back porch or a fire pit and we talk and laugh and tease and solve the world's problems and shrug at the ones we can't figure out. On the one hand, as the privileged daughter of a college professor, it is nothing I have ever been prepared for. On the other, raised among theatre people with the promise of national tours and my grandmother's steamer trunk, it's exactly what I was born to do.



Regardless, we don't have many things. We have a homebase, almost a home. What we've got is good. Is better than good.





It sounds like that. It looks like this:

Bella and Ford

Where the firewood comes from. They are loggers, after all.

The best way to prep tortillas

But it feels like this:




And it's all real.

295

Lithus and I sat down the other night. From May 2011 until May 2012, we have spent 295 days on the road. In a one year period. I have officially lost track of every town, motel, hotel, room, and restaurant.

It's amazing when you realize your dreams are actually coming true...

Ball Of String Moment ~ Washington

Part of the fun of traveling the way we do is that we get to see some of the more...obscure...sites on the road. Lithus and I refer to them as Ball of String moments. Like...

Stonehenge, Maryhill, WA

There was a geocache. We left our names and a firestarting kit. It seemed appropriate.

The First Sign of Spring

Everyone has their own unofficial first sign of Spring.  For some, it's a robin. For some, it's the Spring Equinox. For others, it's Easter. On the road, it's the first tailgate. The first night it's warm enough, clear enough, to gather in the parking lot, grill meat, drink beer, and tell stories.

New company. New group of guys. Same routine. As of tonight, it's Spring. And I'm happy.