It's Better in Wyoming.

I rode the motorcycle this weekend to Sidney to catch up with George and with Paul and Anne.  A quick trip, but a good one overall, even though it was 102 degrees in Sidney on Saturday.  I rode back along old Highway 30 and Happy Jack, and it was spectacular, sadly in part to a smoky red sunset due to the colorado fire.  A deer jumped out in front of me halfway between Cheyenne and home and reminded me that it feels great to be alive and healthy and employed and loved.

This year's Woodchopper Jamboree was as good as I remember it being, last time I was there.  Which, when I do the math, must've been three summers ago already.  That seems amazing to me--somehow it doesn't seem nearly that long ago, and I'm reminded that time is a Trickster.  The last eight years have been a new lifetime--or maybe multiple lifetimes, new starts and old failures and recursive mistakes wrapped in on top of each other in no order that makes sense.  I suppose it's dumb of me to think of time as a linear set of occurrences. Happily, this year's trip to Riverside/Encampment included a trip to the Mangy Moose , including a delicious cheeseburger and frosty Fat Tire.  (It cracks me up that the best link I can find for the Mangy Moose is yelp--which helpfully informs you that, nope, they don't have a coat check there.  In case you were wondering). Also, it seemed there were about twice as many contestants for this year's wood-choppin' as

The winds just shifted, and they're really bringing the northern Colo. fire to town now.  Burning eyes!

Thanks to Melissa for pointing out another amazing song from Walk the Moon: <p><p><p><p><p>Than</p></p></p></p></p>  And, for good measure, a song I heard this morning on NPR: Friday, yeah.

Just when I'm in danger of falling back into narrow-minded assumptions that Wyoming has a monopoly on wide-open spaces, I appreciate the reminder of eastern Oregon.  The drive across Highway 20, from Bend through Burns out to the Idaho border--that's some Big Desolation.  Beautiful, and not in a way that a photograph can necessarily capture. For the record, though, here are other people's attempts to capture it .