I am ready to get to my house tonight and not come into town again until Monday morning.
You see, tomorrow is the Wyoming Cowboys/Texas Longhorns game. Hotels are sold out in town and within a 75-mile radius. There have been RV's camped out all over the place with Texas plates. Apparently, a whole slew of Wyoming season tickets were bought up by Texans to ensure they could see this game. I can't imagine why. I love Wyoming with all my heart, but we all know who is going to win.
No way in hell do I want to be anywhere near all the drunk students this week. Nor the insane crowd of TEXANS. Drunk or sober.
We can deduce two things from my reaction to, and preparation for, the upcoming event: 1) I have reacclimated to small-town Wyoming rather completely and 2) I am getting old and crotchety.
2. I hope we don't get completely obliterated by the Longhorns. Or that any of the players get hurt.
3. A. and I are going to try to split and stack nearly four cords of wood this weekend. I am quite certain I won't be able to raise my hands over my head on Monday. Oy.
4. The little division of landowners in our area do not have a HOA. This does not surprise me in the least; Wyomingites aren't really into rules and people telling them what they can and can't do with their property. The culture here is, for the most part, live and let live. In fact, a tiny town about 45 miles north of us HAS NO LAW ENFORCEMENT OF ANY SORT. None. Well, unless you count the Game Warden who lives there.
Not having a HOA means that there is no association to handle getting our roads graded and plowed (we aren't on a county road, boo.), among other things. A few weekends ago, while A. and I were fly-fishing our way across western Wyoming, all the landowners got together for a potluck to discuss the road issue. I was so dissappointed to miss the meal. It is hard to get to know your neighbors with 10, 20 and 40 acres between you and them and I was hoping to talk to the people I wave to everyday.
From what I hear, the meeting went really well. People agreed on how to pay for fixing the road and grading and plowing it. To have it done professionally will cost twice as much so we are doing it ourselves. One of my neighbors used to build roads for the Forest Service so we are going to draw on his expertise. Another neighbor has nearly all of the major equipment we need.
Next weekend, we are renting the couple of machines we don't have access to and all of the neighbors are coming out to tear up and rebuild the first section of road off the highway. A. and I will be spending our weekend hauling huge ass rocks to the grinder, then helping lay them out after the road has been built up and leveled.
In a rather overdramatic, romantic sort of way, I feel like a fucking pioneer. Building my own road? Chopping four MORE cords of wood to ensure heat throughout the winter? Also, A. will be going hunting in a couple of weeks and hopefully will come home with what will be our meat for the year. Geez. I am both amused and dismayed by this.
5. Whenever I am in the mountains or plains doing something, especially getting firewood or some other work, I always think about the shoes pioneer women wore, the hideous, purposely-smaller-than-her-foot, too-many-buttoned shoes. How the fuck did they walk, let alone work in those? It makes be think twice about bitching when the screw in my ankle rubs on my hiking boots.
Not to mention corsets.