Four States of the Union and Many More States of Mind in 16 Hours

I’m a little spacey, and a little tipsy right now, because I woke up at 4:00 am in Seattle (after sort-of falling asleep at 1:30), flew to Denver, and drove with Anne-Carolyn for 10 1/2 hours through Colorado and Wyoming to Bozeman, MT, only to find a freakishly delectable cheese-and-wine-bar in this truly middle-of-nowhere town. I had two glasses of cabernet that of course I can’t remember the name of, homemade goat cheese ravioli in marinara with fresh zucchini, and six different kinds of cheese which I also can’t remember the names of, and they were all amazing. The whole town, in fact, to my dazed and road-weary self, is a strange hep-cat oasis of fancy restaurants, gourmet tile shops (Seattleites, think Ann Sachs), and (perhaps more what one might expect) outdoor outfitters. We’re sitting in our motel room right now, on our respective beds, taking advantage of the free WiFi with our respective Dell Inspiron laptops . . . which makes the motel also sound like it’s a weirdly posh . . . but it’s not. It’s oh, so really not. All three faucets in the bathroom (shower, sink and toilet) leak, just a little . . . but, there is a bottle-opener on the back of the door, within reach of the tub. The air conditioner seems to be held to the wall with that clinical-looking white duct tape, the pastel rainbow curtains are hanging down from the rod at a sad angle in not one but two places, and—my favorite part and I kid you not—there’s a big ol’ lug-soled footprint on my pillow.
But the drive has so far been beautiful and the roads empty and the highway-side art entertaining—we’ve seen a buffalo, a jackalope, a triceratops, an Indian and horse, and we’ve had great conversation and enjoyed half a weird audio book and it’s fun to be part of someone’s homecoming. Tomorrow--Jerome Creek Ho!