It's Better in Wyoming.

I'm thankful for -- good music -- good people --wonderful Wyoming --no hotel bombings in Laramie this week. When things are generally so good in my own corner of the world, it's hard to imagine how crazy things can be in other places. And I guess it's crazy how relative the concept of "normal" can be. Here's what Vineet Pandit said about the attacks in Mumbai this week: "We are not going to live our lives in fear because of these people. This is just 25 terrorists. We are a city of millions. Why should we let them scare us?"

and there's nothing short of dying half as lonesome as the sound of the sleepin' city sidewalks and a sunday morning comin' down

So tonight, I'm cooking up some a chunk of tasty Sewell beef, roasting a sweet potato with cardamom and seasoned salt, and uncorking a bottle of Little Penguin. I could be pissed off about discovering that my little grill apparently has been stolen, or sad that the Cowgirls lost their game this afternoon, or grouchy that I had to interrupt a perfectly nice Sunday afternoon with grading, but I think I'll pass on all that noise. I could be feeling a bit lonely, wishing I had someone to share this meal with, but on a night like this, I'm content to feast alone.

Went over the hill (around it, actually, since Hiway 130 is closed for the season) this evening for dinner at the Cantina and a soak in the hobo pool at Saratoga. Dinner at the Cantina was unremarkable except their inability to bring a taco, with a corn tortilla, to the table within, oh, 45 minutes after we'd ordered. It doesn't seem like this is the kind of request that would render them useless, but there it was. So Katelyn just got to watch while the rest of us ate our dinner. The hobo pool was relaxing, as always. Now I'm ready to melt into a deep satisfying sleep....

Tonight's game: Cowgirls 100, University of North Dakota Fighting Sioux 75 It's exciting to see the Cowgirls break a hundred. In marginally related news: According to my friends, James Cook was a British explorer who discovered the Cook Islands and mapped much of Australia. My friends are so smart, making me feel dumb.

It's uncomfortable to live in a state that enjoys a budget surplus--a surplus which funds my job--merely because it has lots and lots of natural resources. It wouldn't be so uncomfortable for me if I shared the "Drill Here, Drill Now" mentality. But I don't. On top of that, Wyoming has committed millions towards higher education through the Hathaway Scholarship (funded, again, by natural resources) in an effort to increase enrollment rates; meanwhile, NPR reports, "The California State University system may cut student enrollment by 10,000 students because of a statewide budget cuts." These days, I'm damn happy to have a job.

So a few days ago I got an email reminding me of my scheduled training for sexual harassment. Which was a bit funny, since I didn't remember that I'd signed up for any training for sexual harassment. Turns out, I hadn't. But the university provides training for sexual harassment every three years for 'supervisors,' 'managers,' and faculty. Since the scheduled time happened to fit my schedule, I went, rather than putting this off for another six months or whatever. Anyway, 20 minutes into the training, I was engaged in the issues the presenter was presenting, and I was wondering whether as faculty we're required to report instances of suspected student-to-student harassment. (We are.) And I was wondering about cases where instructors choose content that is intentionally intended to force students to confront their attitudes about sex: can that be perceived as 'harassing'? (Yes, but it's protected as academic discourse if there's a s

I hate being sick. I've been faithfully taking my Zicam today, hoping that I can kick this cold before I end up spending Thanksgiving sniffling and hacking and feeling sorry for myself and worrying about being contagious. Plus, I need to be healthy. I can't have a bunch of phlegm in the back of my throat, affecting my ability to fully appreciate each bite of sweet taters, stuffing, punkin pie, turkey, green jello with cottage cheese, cranberry sauce, baby corns, turkey, punkin pie, mashed potatoe, sweet taters, pecan pie, celery with peanut butter, and turkey. And punkin pie. And some late night stuffing. I love Thanksgiving.

I went to Cheyenne today, mainly to meet a guy from Loveland who wanted to buy the snowtires I'd listed on CL last week. That's one less thing sitting in the basement taking up space. The trip was also a chance to have lunch with Deb and hang out at City News, catching up on grading papers. Coming back on Happy Jack the sky was amazing. Here's a crappy picture I took from the cell phone, coming down the summit, of a lenticular cloud looking UFO-like. I haven't been thinking much about Christmas presents for family and friends. I just ordered the first of many gifts, and I think I did alright. It's a start, at least.

Drank a bit too much last night, out with Peter and Katelyn and Kaijsa and Elsa and Jim. Paid for it this morning. But it wasn't really the hurting head that kept me from going on a hike; it was the hurting foot. I don't know what I've done to it, but I think I better get it checked out. I predict a torn tendon or something like that. Slow burn. In unrelated news, thai dinner tonight was fantastic. Spring rolls, cucumber salad, lemongrass shrimp soup, swimming rama, delicious beefy noodles (don't remember the name), and cocunut ice cream. A pretty satisfying way to end an otherwise lazy day. In other unrelated news, I'm excited that plane tickets turned out to be so affordable. The Denver-to-West Virginia-to-Phoenix-back-to-Denver loop should be a lot of fun. Micale's Wilderness Outpost, here I come.

Over the weekend I headed north, to visit my dad and to go see my grandma in the hospital with a broken hip. It's been a while since I've taken a good road trip, alone, with the miles spread out before me. Usually the drive is head-clearing--a chance to get away from my typical myopia and feel the weight and freedom of a hundred square miles of sagebrush around me. This trip was no different; the landscape makes me feel alive--both fortunate to live within this space and sad that I don't fully know and appreciate it. This picture is part of the scenery coming out of Wheatland headed west. Ah, Wyoming

Hope is a dangerous thing. At least when Bush was president, I didn't expect much. But already I feel a sense of engagement, a desire to participate, that I've never felt before. Now I just hope that Obama and the Biden don't let us down. In related news, Libby posted a NYT op-ed piece reminding us that Bush still has three months in office, and already his administration is beginning its last gifts of 'generosity': "In late September, the I.R.S. restored tax breaks for banks that take big losses on bad loans inherited through acquisitions. Now we learn that JPMorgan Chase and others are planning to use their bailout funds for mergers and acquisitions, transactions that will be greatly enhanced by the new tax subsidy." Gee, thanks.

I remember having a bottle of Blue Paddle a few years ago and not being very impressed. This weekend, though, sitting at the bar at the New Belgium brewery sipping a handful of samples, I gained a new appreciation for their pilsener-lager. I'm also excited that 2 Below, NBB's seasonal brew, is available again. Winter must be on the way.