Things My Grandma Taught Me

     At the beginning of last month my Grandma Miller died, and let me tell you, it was one of the suckiest days I think I've ever had. I knew it was coming, she had gotten progressively worse from pancreatic cancer and the night before she died I couldn't fall asleep. I laid awake in my bed sobbing uncontrollably because I knew my life was going to change drastically. There are still many days where I wake up and think "I should give Grandma a call!" Only to realize I will never get to hear her cheerful "Good afternoon." as she picks up the phone. So even though I still can hardly think of her without losing it and sobbing all over the unlucky victim who happens to be near, I wanted to write a list of things that my grandmother taught me:
 1. (And this is the most important thing on the list) Food is the best way to show people you care about them.
         My grandma was always ready with something for me to eat, whether it was homemade lefsa, an apple   pie that she just happened to have taken out of the freezer that day, or a big tall glass of Sunny D. It didn't matter what it was, it always tasted good because Grandma was the one who gave it to me. Except this one time when I thought she left out a glass of milk for me, but she was leaving it on the counter to sour for cooking purpose...that did not taste good.
 2. You have to take life one day at a time.
         Marvel was a tough lady, I think anybody who knew her would heartily agree with that. She never got to finish school because she had to stay at home and help. She helped my grandpa though losing his arm, and again when he had a stroke and lost the use of his legs. Her own health also suffered after she had a heart attack and then had to have bi-pass surgery. Oh yeah, and she made it through having colon cancer when she was like 85. Grandma always told me that we have to take things one day at a time, and I know that's how she did it. Any time I would call her and talk to her about things that were bothering me she would calmly listen and say: "What can we do but take it one day at a time?".
 3. Always stay close to friends you have made and the family you have.
         It never ceased to amaze me how my grandma would stay connected with people she hadn't seen in a long time. Not a single Christmas would pass without a phone call from Sweden, and my grandma would answer with a hearty "God Jul!" to my grandpa's cousin on the other line. When my grandma was in her thirties she became best friends with the pastor's wife. Even after the pastor moved to another congregation, my grandma still stayed in close contact with her friend. My grandma would always smile as she remembered driving past the parsonage and honking extra loud, just so her friend would know who was driving by.
  4. Singing makes everything more fun.
         When I was in kindergarten I had the great joy of spending every Wednesday at Grandma's, since I
didn't have school that day and both my parents were working. It was during these many wonderful days that I had the great joy of learning several of Grandma's favorite songs. She would be dusting the top shelf of her China cabinet singing away "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do". I would smile at Grandma, and it didn't take long until I learned the words and could sing along with her. If she wasn't in the mood to sing about a tandem bicycle she would start "How much is that doggie in the window?". When we would get into her car to run errands, we would race to see who could buckle in first as we belted "Meet me in Saint Louie, Louie! Meet me at the fair!". I have my grandmother to thank for my wonderfully eclectic music taste, and the desire to sing no matter what I'm doing.
 5. Greet everyone pleasantly.
        My grandma would always answer the phone with "Good morning" or if it was later she would use the
appropriate time of day. She was always matter of fact with it, but it was a pleasant way to start the conversation. You could always count on this familiar greeting, and it was comforting to know that she really was wishing you a good morning. Grandma also loved to sign up as a greeter for our church on Sunday mornings. She would stand at the door in a snappy looking jacket with a smile on her face and warmly shake your hand as you came into church. If she didn't know I coming home and saw me at church, her face would always light up and she would give me a big hug. I'm going to miss those hugs.
  6. You're never too old to try something new.
         Growing up in a rather strict religion, my grandma had never danced in her life. That is, until she was
88 years old. At my cousin's wedding my uncle came up to my grandma and finally got her out onto the dance floor. Everyone watched with amazement as my grandma started cutting a rug. My 2 year old nephew couldn't resist dancing with great-grandma so he cut in, and the smile on Grandma's face was enormous. Another new thing my grandma was going to do was get a tattoo with me on her 90th birthday. She was thinking about getting a Norwegian flag on her foot or ankle, and I think she would have done it had she made it to January 8th. As it is, I have to go to the tattoo parlor by myself that day.
  7. Make every hug count
        There are so many wonderful things that I had the great privilege of learning from Marvel Miller, but I  think the best thing I learned from her was how to give great hugs. Not once would I be able to see Grandma without giving her at least two hugs, one when I said hello and one when I said goodbye. These hugs really had to count because being good Scandinavians we very rarely said how we felt, and this is good because I get emotional whenever I try telling someone what they mean to me.
  8. Know when it's time to let go.
        This was a very recent thing that she taught me, and it's the hardest lesson I ever had to learn. One of
my last visits with Grandma I was sitting next to her and she told me it was important for me to be able to let go and not to dwell on her passing. Hearing this directly from her was so heart breaking that I burst into tears. I didn't want to have to say goodbye to her, but she knew that, and made me face what was happening. Grandma was always very straightforward, and you could always count on her for  tough love when it was needed, even when she was dying.

     Even though it's been almost two months since she died, not a day goes by that I don't think of her. Now, this could be because I have her Mount Rushmore souvenir daily flip calendar (you turn it toward you and the day changes), or it could be because the lessons she taught me are used every day. So even though Thanksgiving has passed, I am thankful for all the wonderful things that my grandma taught me.

Grandma at Christmas Last Year

Happy Halloween!

Boom, beheaded.

     In honor of this most wonderful holiday, I'm going to take you on a short journey over the past few years. My freshman year of college I missed out on Halloween because I was involved in choir, don't worry, I wised up and did not join choir ever again. Anyway, that year was a bust but the next year...oh the next year. I spent months planning, seriously months. An idea hit me sometime around March or April (as it tends to do) and I knew that this was a golden idea. When the last weekend in October hit I dressed up in all my garb and headed to my friend's house as Marie Antoinette. Lest you think I was just all pretty and dolled up, let me disillusion you, I had dried blood all around my neck. As you all well know she was beheaded, wait let me backtrack a titch. She was the queen of France right before the revolution, and it was bad luck she was a ruler then. Anyway, her and her husband ran the country into ground (it wasn't all their fault but they didn't fix anything so there you go) and consequently they were beheaded. My dress was a Goodwill find, and I put baby-powder in my hair to make it look like a powdered wig, to finish it off I used a make-up kit from Wal-Mart complete with dried blood. Not only was I a historical figure, I was gruesome enough for Halloween.

Got Cannibalism?

     My junior year I had an ensemble costume. This idea came a bit later in the year, sometime around September or even the beginning of October. Don't let this make you think it wasn't as fabulous just because I had less time to dwell on it, it was awesome. My boyfriend and I decided to recreate the Donnor party incident. For those of you who aren't well versed on gruesome pioneer deaths, let me fill you in. The Donnor party was making their way to the West coast, but they got stuck in the Rockies during Winter. Consequently many of them died, and those remaining reverted to cannibalism. We thought it would be a fantastic idea to make this tragic event into costume, so I was a dead member of the party with blood dripping from my face and neck and he had fake blood all over his arms and mouth. Yet again the public was educated on an historical event AND we looked gruesome...WIN!

Off with her head!

Happy Halloween!

     This year was a bit unusual for me. I just got back from a week long trip to London, and sadly I missed Halloweekend so I didn't have a costume. This morning  it was suggested that I go as the Red Queen. Being an English Literature major I decided that I could honor the work of Lewis Carroll and have a costume that people might actually recognize. Throwing together some things I had in my closet I finished it all off with my theatre make-up kit and was good to go. My boyfriend went as a lumberjack, since he has a job where he makes food and didn't want to scare away customers...or create sanitary issues. While this year was not gruesome, it was still fun to dress up. So may you all enjoy this wonderful holiday, whether you dressed up or not.

Design

The script

     Hello my faithful readers, yet again I have abandoned you for a long period of time. I do apologize, but I really have been busy and I'm going to tell you all about it! Yay! Seriously though, I have had hardly any free time. The reason I have no time for frivolities? My senior thesis project. As a theatre major it is required of me to do one big blow out project my senior year to put my knowledge to the test. I chose to do costume design for a new play called "44 Plays for 44 Presidents". Now onward to a literary journey that will cover the last five months.

The Poster for the Concordia Production

    It all began with a proposal. I had to make myself look really good and tell the theatre department all the wonderful things I would create if they let me do costume design. This was easy enough, since I am an English Literature major, after all, and it's my job to dig deeper and find meaning in everything. After this was accomplished I had to wait and see if they would accept my proposal. Well, they did and now it was just to wait and see which show I would be designing. So I waited, and waited, and waited. Then the day finally came and I saw the title "44 Plays for 44 Presidents". I had never heard of this play, and my mind immediately went into shock mode. How in the Clark Gable's mustache was I going to make 44 different costumes?
     Once I finally had the script in my hands I made myself sit down to quietly read it. Outwardly I may have been calm, but inwardly my mind was working into overdrive. "George Washington needs an Adam leaf-type outfit! Ben Franklin must look awesome! Oh my lanta what in the world is a pounder? Wait, is this guy supposed to be Elvis? Can I even find a white jumpsuit?" But most importantly "What in the name of Ben Franklin's fried kite will this coat become?" See, there is the Presidential Coat that is passed from actor to actor to signify that they are playing the president at that moment. Well, not so much passed as tugged, pulled, thrown, and general tussling.

I designed these!

     My first reading of the script was the end of April, leaving me all summer to wrestle with ideas in my head. I would occasionally sit down and work for several hours on drawings. Some were just doodles, while others had more of a permanent feel to them. After I spoke with my project supervisor he said to think about  where the coat is coming from, and to whom it really belongs. The cloudy fog lifted from my poor tired brain and I knew that it was George's coat, it always had been.
     Design is a frustrating beast, because while you may be very proud of your design and love what it brings to the table, the director may not like the way it feels. It took a few meetings and a couple re-draws, but my designs got approved and now the searching began. And oh the searching! It was terrible, I had to online shop for hours at work! Ha, just kidding it was awesome. I found some pretty nifty clothes for great prices. Although I will not be ordering from this one website ever again because I selected expedited shipping and it took them three weeks to get it to me. I almost had a heart attack because the 4 shirts I ordered didn't come until three days before I needed to start using them.

The skeleton of the coat 

     Not only did I get to online shop, but I got to spend some quality time with the ghosts in the wardrobe. The wardrobe is one of my favorite places in the theatre, but it's also scary as heck. I once blacked out a little bit because I was going through a box and I didn't hear my boss come in, then all the sudden I look up and there is a figure in from of me. My vision went dark for a few seconds and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped. You can't hear anything in the wardrobe because there are HUNDREDS of clothing articles in there to soak up the sound. These clothes are just a joy to behold and so much fun to dig through. I was lucky enough to find four pairs of pants, five shirts, a sweater, and a jacket that worked for 44 Plays. This is a huge deal since that covered basically half of my actors.
     While most of the clothing was purchased for this particular show, I did have the "joy" of making the almighty coat. Making clothing is exciting, but it is also terrible and frustrating. There was one day I wanted to take the coat out behind the dumpster and beat it with a lead pipe, but I didn't. That would have been stupid because it had no feelings and it would have made it messy and ruined all the work I already did on it. This past week I finished the damn coat, and after sewing things on wrong, making adjustments, creating 39 coat buttons, and stabbing myself with a needle more times than I can count, I had something that I was proud to call my own. Even though I'm proud of it, every time I look at it I still want to throw something at it to let it know that I am its master.

The finished coat will be showcased in the next blog post!

     The next step is going to be damage control, because something always goes wrong. People get careless, and sacrifice the safety of clothes for dramatic effect, it just happens. I'll be watching in the sidelines as my designs come to life, and are inevitably made messy and broken. And I'll be waiting with safety pins, because that is my job, protecting my creations.

Diablo Part 2: Dawn of Diablo

She WILL find you

     I don't know how, and I don't know why, but they ALWAYS find me. You make think that I'm talking about those perfume ladies in department stores who spray perfume in your open mouth. Or perhaps the homeless person standing at the intersection you found yourself stuck at for the last ten minutes. No, I'm talking about woodchucks. You may think that this cute little fuzzy creature couldn't possibly have malicious intentions, well to put it lightly YOU'RE WRONG! Woodchucks are evil, and I think I covered this in my epic tale. They are mean, they are smelly, and frankly, they need to learn a few things about manners. For example, it is not okay to live in someone's machine shed and dig big messy holes everywhere. It's messy, it ruins things, and it creates unnecessary tidy-up work for the owner of said machine shed...and quite possibly his daughter as well (who may or may not be myself). So without further ado, I present "Diablo Part 2: Dawn of Diablo".
     It was a standard Wednesday (as it always seems to be), when my mother noticed something outside our kitchen window. Being the beginning of August, it was hotter than a fat man's armpit outside and yet, our dog Alfie was jumping and running around my car. Desperately trying to cram his very large dog body under my low riding vehicle, it was obvious that something was under my car. My mother wondered if perhaps it was a woodchuck. I felt a cloud come over the previously bright kitchen and my brows furrowed in angst over the memory of another fateful summer day that forever shall live in infamy. I knew it was a woodchuck, nothing else would have the audacity to hide under my car in the middle of the afternoon.

This, this is what I hate.

     Since my mother had to leave, it was decided that my father and I would watch for the "mystery" animal to emerge from under my car. Startled by the noise from the garage opening, a small blur of brown fur raced from under my car to the middle of the lawn. There, panting in exhaustion, was a woodchuck. Knowing that Alfie didn't have the same woodchuck slaying skills as Erma, my dad and I watched as he nipped at the woodchuck. As previously stated it was very hot outside, so after some mild chasing, Alfie and the woodchuck just stood and watched each other. Alfie panted as the slobber clung to his lose doggie cheeks. The woodchuck was too tired to bare his disgusting buck teeth and just stood on his haunches watching.
     Inside the kitchen my father decided he'd had enough of the show and walked into the other room. Anxiously watching the tired animals, I grew concerned as the slow battle crept toward the front doorway. Having no desire to open the door and invite the woodchuck in for some cold lemonade, I told my dad that I would sneak down to the barn and grab a pitchfork. My previous battle with Diablo had taught me that you needed something to pierce the skin to really kill it, or else you'd just end up with a wet, angry woodchuck. Creeping around the side of the house, I tiptoed toward the barn. Not wanting to distract Alfie from his important job of keeping the woodchuck occupied. Of course, the moment that big hulking dog caught sight of me, he ran toward me. Worried that the woodchuck might escape, I shooed Alfie back toward the house. Not sure of what I wanted he just ended up bounding toward me and jumping at me. Shaking my head I went into the barn and grabbed the pitchfork, hoping that the evil spawn of Diablo would be patiently awaiting his certain doom.

Super dog saves the world, one woodchuck at a time

     When I had finally worked my way back up to the house the woodchuck cowered in the corner of the house. I lifted up the pitchfork to bring forth his doom, and suddenly found I couldn't do it. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but I think it may have been that memory of a summer day when a woodchuck sat cowering in a tree. Most likely it was because I was scared I would miss and he would run at my legs and bite me and then I'd get rabies. At any rate, my father came out of the house, motioned to me to give him the pitchfork, and promptly stabbed Diablo 2. The woodchuck let out a squeal as my father gave him a few more flesh wounds. Alfie grabbed the dying woodchuck and pulled him back out into the yard, playing with him until he died. My father and I went back into the house and watched Alfie for a few more minutes. We both started laughing when Alfie picked up his woodchuck and pranced into the barn as a heavy rain began to fall. Even though he was holding a woodchuck in his mouth, I could still see a self-satisfied grin on Alfie's face. The world was finally safe from another evil woodchuck.

The Ming Aralia that Got Away

     As a college student it is only right that I have a summer job. You know, one of those jobs you take to fill in the beautifully, long, hot period between semesters? Being the type who shies away from any food service job (other than my on campus one), the only choice was retail. Well, not the only choice, but it was the right choice for me. Having come out of a briefly awful period of being employed with a clothing store, I knew the clothing retail venue was out. Somehow I happened upon a want ad for a local nursery, and eventually became a plant person.

My garden! Now with real plants!

     My start at this nursery was in the retail area that contained home decor and gifts. It wasn't long until they realized they had a few too many people, and I was transferred into a greenhouse. This greenhouse held the house plants, the huge planters, decorative garden stuff, and the chemicals (such as fungicides, pesticides, fertilizers, etc.). Knowing next to nothing about plants, there was plenty of room for plant knowledge up in the old noodle.
     The co-workers I joined were nothing short of pure patience as I stumbled around trying to figure out what the hell kind of fungicide is the best fungicide, and what exactly is a tree scale? All these and more were explained to me, but it took me awhile before I could supply a customer with a ready answer and not desperately look to my co-workers for help. While bouncing around from section to section, trying to figure out what exactly I would be interested in, I saw them. In all their glory sitting there like a green beacon. Beautiful and breathtaking, the houseplants. Don't get me wrong, I am madly in love with the tiny little accessories for Fairy Gardens, but damn if those houseplants didn't steal my heart.

Ming Aralia, you stole my heart

     With a sort of frenzied look in my eye I began to madly Google anything I could about the houseplants we had. One of my ever patient co-workers was well versed in the house plant world and we often exchange notes on each of the plants. What really cinched my entry into the houseplant world, was a plant called the Ming Aralia. It was a hot day (like every single damn day in a greenhouse, honestly, I don't need a gym membership I have my own sauna, thank you!) and this lady came in to return a sickly looking plant. I took one look at the plant and contemplated telling her we don't take back dead plants, but it had some hope of survival left in it. I looked closely at the plant and noticed how terribly dry the soil was, so I gave it a good drink and then found out what I could about this mysterious Ming Aralia. Turns out it likes the sun, and it likes to be watered. Go figure, a plant that likes sun and water! After a few days the plant not only turned back into a beautiful feathery green, it began to flourish! I would lovely pat the plant when I walked by and look at its interesting little trunk. I loved this plant, but it was slightly out of my price range.

Frank!

     The weeks went by and I never had enough money to purchase my plant, I went on vacation and when I came back I looked all over for it. I knew deep down that it had already been purchased, and my co-worker confirmed this when she came in. She told me how she tried to dissuade the customer from buying the plant, telling him it was temperamental and KERSTI (emphasis NOT exaggerated), took really good care of it. And KERSTI was the one who was able to fix it. The customer was not to be turned away from this gorgeous plant, and I mourned the loss. Knowing that each plant is special in its own way I decided to turn my affection toward succulents. Easy to care for, and funky looking as all get out. Now in my window I have a very resilient aloe vera named Maria, a string of pearls plant named Sophia, and a schefflera I'm doing my best to turn into a bonsai. His name is Frank, in honor of Ben Franklin. While my Ming Aralia escaped me, I have many marvelous plants to fill my window sill and patio. But you can bet your Aunt Fanny's TV tray that next time we get a Ming Aralia I will be forgoing groceries that week in order to buy it!

Sophia on the left, Maria is on the right

I Got Religion, But I Still Feel the Heat

     I took a summer class for the first time this year. It was four weeks long with class three hours at a time Monday through Friday. Class started at 8:30am and went until 11:30 with a 15 minute break, you know, for posterity's sake. Anyway, I have very strong feelings about this class being done so I wrote a gospel song to celebrate. It was a lovely class and I learned a lot, but I'm still ridiculously glad it's over. Without further delay, here are the lyrics to my original song "I Got Religion, But I still Feel the Heat":

Verse 1:

The school year brought me low low low

And I was feeling so bluuuuueeeeeeeee

I didn’t know how I was going to make it

I didn’t know what to doooooooooo

So I set down my options right in front of me

And decided to take a class, offered for three

Thousand American dollars, right here in the USA

This isn't Jesus...Just looks like him

I stood right up and I just had to sayyyyyyy                             

Chorus:

I GOT RELIGION! But I still feel the heat

Yes I got religion! Those school year blues is beat

I won’t have to take this class with the others next year

Instead of having summer fun I’ll just stay right here!

I got religion I got religion but I’m still feeling that heat.

Verse 2:

Those first few days of class, well they went all right

I opened my Bible and read those texts almost every night

I wake up at the crack of dawn so early the next day

I’d hop right out of my cozy bed and this is what I’d sayyyy

It’s too dang much to take this class three hours at a time

Those four month classes, well right now they look sublime

I only have to take them three hours every week

But in my head I heard a voice and this is what it shrieked

Chorus:

I GOT RELIGION! But I still feel the heat

Yes I got religion! Those school year blues is beat

I won’t have to take this class with the others next year

Instead of having summer fun I’ll just stay right here!

I got religion I got religion but I’m still feeling that heat.

Verse 3 (dramatically spoken interlude):

I missed the class two times all told and got B’s on all the tests

The papers and the projects, well, they were some of my best

I’m happy now that those four long weeks are done

Now it’s time for me to step out for my time in the sun

Chorus:

Feel it, let the spirit move you, too,

I’ve no longer got religion, I’ve been freed from classroom heat     

I’ve no longer got religion and those school-time blues is beat

I packed up all my notebooks, said goodbye to each last one

Trade my backpack for a beach bag cause summer school is done!

I’ve no longer got religion but I learned an awful lot

Like about good old Moses and the problems that he got

I’m glad for all the things I’ve learned and all those things I’ve done

But I’ve no longer got religionnnnnn!!! Now it’s my turrnnnnnnnnnnn in the sunnnnnnnnnn!!!!!!

Plains, Trains, and Automobiles

Plains.See, cause they're plain.

     You make think that I used the wrong form of "plain" for the title of this blog. Well let me disillusion you right away, I was being clever and you would realize this had you waited until the end of the blog to think that judgmental thought. For those of you who didn't think that thought, well good for you. Nice to know you have some faith in my grammar skillz.
     This last weekend I made a journey to Montana. Yes, a weekend trip to the great state of Montana (it was rough). Nestled between North Dakota, Idaho, Wyoming,  Montana is full of mountains. But before I get there, let's talk about North Dakota, shall we? I have never had any sort of love for North Dakota. It doesn't have Mount Rushmore, it doesn't have the Black Hills, it's flatter than a pancake hit by twelve trucks, and it's brown. When I think North Dakota, I think brown thoughts. It's like an old Western movie in Sepia....just all the brown.

Climbing is hard.

     Now that you know my true feelings, let me tell you about North Dakota since I've been across the whole entire state. It is flat, it is brown, BUT it does have some badlands and a lot of World's Largest Animals. I believe I saw the world's largest buffalo and a cow. There may have been more, but there is only so much room in my brain for these facts. The badlands my boyfriend and I saw were ones that helped give Teddy Roosevelt the idea for the National Parks system. It was pretty cool to think that the President had been where we were. Also, it was very obvious that several buffalo had been where we were not that long before us. We hiked down into the badlands and we realized how out of shape we were. It's a long way down, and it was hot outside. But we found a rock that was shaped like a chair, and realized that nature is prepared for people like us.
     Being in a car for upwards of 8 hours a day can really take its toll on you, but once you're in Montana you don't really notice. See, North Dakota has nothing for you to look at because (as previously stated) it's all brown. In Montana there are mountains, LOTS of mountains. And there are cool houses tucked away in the hills, steep roads that make you want to pee your pants, snow covered peaks, raging rivers, and old towns you'd swear you've seen somewhere before. The best part about driving through Montana was the mountains, there were so enormous some of their peaks were hidden in the clouds. You could see them from miles away and it was amazing to get to drive by these big ole' rocks.

Beautiful view, just don't look down.

     Once you get to the tippy top Northwestern edge of Montana, nature gets real. We drove to Whitefish and it is RIGHT on the mountain. Driving up Big Mountain Road in Whitefish made me very reminiscent of plane take-off...I do not care for that feeling. After your ears pop at least three times, you've reached your destination. Once you sit down, and then try to stand up, you realize that the altitude has changed, and standing up is harder than it seems. But once you get used to the altitude you can enjoy the view and the cool mountain air.
     Sadly, I was only in Whitefish for 12 hours before I had to get on the Amtrak back to Fargo.The train went right through Glacier National Park and it was gorgeous. I wish I could have explored it some, but we had to hurry, hurry, hurry(we were on a train after all). Most of the train ride I had this older lady sitting next to me and her name was Carrie. Her frank way of speaking made me laugh, and she insisted that I play "Revenge of the Beavers" on her Kindle. As we were traveling we ran into some delays. We were stuck for about two hours, and I was talking with her. Then she told me something that helped restore my faith in humanity, "You have a very optimistic attitude and a mellow disposition. You're starting to rub off on me! I think you need to write a book." I was surprised, but very flattered by her words. It is so rare to hear exactly what people think of you. I guess that's what is fun about meeting strangers, you can tell them these things and go on your merry way. It was a pleasure to sit next to Carrie, and I wish I had told her how much her comment really meant. But it isn't until we have the time to think about something that we realize what it means to us...and she wasn't really the mushy type.

All of them found out what happens in abandoned towns.
(Spoiler alert...it involves them dying)

     After she left the train I still had a long ride ahead of me. Little did I know that the train would end up being 5 hours late all told. See, a freight train had been going so fast that the breaks overheated and they locked. This meant we had to come to a standstill and wait for the trains that had been put behind schedule to pass us. What I got from this was: There is not enough room in all of North Dakota for two trains to be going two different directions. There are NOT plenty of wide open spaces. And there certainly is NOT anyway to create a more expansive system. (these fact are NOT supported by any sort of studious research, just sarcastic observation). During the night I kept waking up because the train would stop. I looked out my window once and saw abandoned freight cars midst the eerie glow of a yard light. Noticing how abandoned it was I thought: "This is where the radioactive people get on the train. This is how I'm going to die". I thought this because I had just seen "The Chernobyl Diaries" and knew that if you are stopped in an abandoned place overnight, you will die.

A lake...a big lake. And a mountain...also big.

     As you can tell I did not die. Surprisingly enough 41 hours of combined car and train travel didn't kill me. Nor did the desolate brownness of North Dakota, or even the pee-your-pants roads of Montana. What I hated most was getting these tantalizing glimpses of gorgeous scenery and just having to wave goodbye to it. Never fear though Montana! I shall return to you in July, ready for your beauty and horrifying roads.