At Home in September
Hearing "You boys are a long way from home" from over my shoulder as I'm bending down to slide my pack out of my truck is the sort of thing that makes me involuntarily tighten my sphincter, if only for a moment.
That particular situation ended without anyone having to resort to squealing like a pig, but it got me thinking to myself: where is home anymore?
Luckily I'm clever enough to not ask myself questions I don't know the answer to: Wyoming. I claim all of it (except you, Riverton).
It's a big home, but baby that just means there's plenty of room for all my family, friends and guests (except you, greenies).
Home in Jackson
In Jackson I spent a lot of time with my two new cough greenie cough roommates who just moved in in August, Brittani and Thomas.
They roomed in the van at the front of Carter's lawn, and I just roomed on the lawn.
Does that mean you guys are coming home? And yes, I consider this your home. - Carter
Along with those people in the cute little cottage, we made for a pretty great family and had some good adventures together in our corner of my home.
WalterDad had his first art showing as Wild Iris Press on that glorious ninth month of the year, and we got together as a family and put up and ran the tent.
Well, Walt and I got together as a family. Thomas was probably editing some videos (or just sleeping in) in Curtis Canyon, and Carter was biking around with children, and Brit's just generally a rude person
but sometimes families have people like that and it's okay.
Home in Cheyenne
In Cheyenne I visited Mom and Dad and their roommate John and even took the time out of my schedule to see my lovely Grandmother.
I'm not sure how I segue that sentence into an eery, slightly tilted photo of the church I went to as a child, so let me just go ahead and
Anyways, now that I'm more than old enough to do adult things with my father, we went to a playground together. I monkied about...
and we raced down the twin slides together. He won somehow, even though I'm way, way fitter.
Curse you gravity!
I want that rematch, pa.
Home in Laramie
Ah man, Laramie. These photos don't tell a third of the story. Don't worry though, neither will I.
PS: I wrote this post sitting at the park outside the library in Moab, Utah, listening to little kids scream battle cries under the football-field lights waiting for Hilton and Slim to roll through for a week at Indian Creek. October's looking good, too.