Wyoming | dual personalities

September 28, 2020

“Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests”*

by chuckofish

My weekend sped by in a blur. I managed to finish Craig Johnson’s newest Longmire mystery, Next to Last Stand, so that daughter #1 could take it home with her. It was very enjoyable and, as usual, it made me want to pack it all in and move to Wyoming.

I could live here.

(At least part of the year…It does get cold in the winter.)

We worked more in the basement and found more Beanie Babies–monkeys!

We sorted through other boxes of toys and books and games. The wee babes are making out like bandits with new found treasures every week. A snow globe with penguins for Lottie…

…and this c. 1990 Little Tikes “sanitation truck” for the bud were huge hits this weekend. (We were missing the garbage man, but we found a substitute.)

This old wooden train is always a fave.

We are making progress. In one backward step, we went to an estate sale and bought some books (!) for which I have no bookshelf space, but c’est la vie.

When the wee babes came over on Saturday (their parents were going to a party–outside with social distancing, I’m sure) we watched Aladdin (1992) after playtime exhausted us. I had not seen it in probably 25 years. It was no doubt too intense for three-year olds, but they had already seen it, so I am not responsible for traumatizing them. Lottie put a blanket over her head during the scary parts.

When the babes went home, we finally got to have our weekly margaritas and relax. They were very much appreciated.

Sunday afternoon I listened to some podcasts and worked on my elephant needlepoint. One podcast I am listening to and enjoying is Poetry For All with Abram Van Engen, who is an associate professor of English at my flyover university, and another professor from Illinois Wesleyan University. This podcast is not just “for those who love poetry, but those who feel hesitant about it, even those who dislike it altogether.” Try it; you might like it! I find that poetry is good for what ails you.

It is going to be a stressful week for me and I will take it one day at a time. Amen. Praise God.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
²³They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
²⁴I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.
Lamentations 3:22-24

*Seamus Heaney, “Digging”

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August 26, 2013

O blest communion, fellowship divine

by chuckofish

Daughter #2 went back east on Saturday, and after I dropped her off at the airport, I hurried back to Grace Church for a funeral. An 86-year old friend had died while we were in Wyoming and I wanted to pay my respects to him and to his lovely wife. (Also if I shed a few tears for daughter #2, no one would notice.)

As befitted the passing of a devout cradle Episcopalian, the service included KJV readings and the whole nine yards of communion–just the way I like it. There was a good crowd there to honor Brooke, a retired chemist with 30-something patents, including one to do with medical x-rays. He was also a devoted churchman–a dying breed I’m afraid. His three children all spoke movingly before the service about Brooke. I was impressed. But none of them seemed to know what to do during the service, which saddened me. Clearly none of his sons are devoted churchmen. Ah, well. So it goes.

Brooke once told me, after hearing the boy speak in church about his experience on the youth mission trip, that he thought my son was a “fine young man”. This meant a lot to me, and I can only hope that the boy will someday be as fine a man and churchman as Brooke was.

Speaking of Episcopalians, Ruby, our hostess in Wyoming, is the widow of a clergyman and the daughter-in-law of a bishop.

She took us to a service in the mountains at St. Alban’s Chapel which was officiated by the interim dean of St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Laramie.

There were about 25 friendly souls and several dogs at the service.

An elderly chihuahua in a sweater who sat on a pew during the service.

Afterwards we all had a picnic at Lake Brooklyn nearby.

Daughter #2 made a friend.

Fortified with our healthy lunch, Ruby drove us around the Snowy Range 4-wheel drive trails in the Medicine Bow National Forest in her stick shift Subaru. We hiked some too, scrambling over rocks behind her.

Somehow we managed to keep up–not so easy for these flatlanders at 8200 ft.!

Ruby leaves our flyover state in May every year for her house in Wyoming and returns in late September when the weather turns cold. She is a hardy soul, hospitable, gracious and generous. This trip will go down in history as one of the best!