Well, this place doesn’t seem to lose any of it’s oddity with length of time here. Things are still strange. It didn’t turn summer here until July, and now in early August our nights leave us wanting to cuddle under the down comforter until mid-morning. The County Fair is on, and to be honest, being there last night had me sending text messages to my sister with panicky moments of judgment, using words like “frizzle”, “jitters” and “anxiety”. I felt surrounded by an awkward mingling of roughnecks and delinquent juveniles. And the worst part about it is that probably it’s likely nothing more than me feeling odd in a sea of Rawlins normal. How’s that gonna work, anyway? Well, it’ll either work or it won’t, right? But most important right now is to be in the moment and find that true happiness outside of the absurdity of County Fair (again- it’s not as absurd as I am just out of my element).

Tonight I take a moment to be without rushing until dark. We are living in a dual setting here at the ranch- partially in the barn and partially in a camper trailer. Ha! Odd, I tell you. I’m laying under my down comforter in the trailer right now, watching the span of remaining color from the sun setting on the Continental Divide. The width of the space around me is 8′, the length is 24′. We’ve been talking about wanting to live in small spaces. I dare say- it’s pretty much all it’s cracked up to be. You can’t have too much stuff, you live off of a couple of the same plates and flatware that you continuously wash. All those old Arbor Brewing Company sweatshirts I own… well, let’s just say they are in storage rotation. There’s just no room for 8 hoodies. So I make due (with complete satisfaction) with two. You know that rumor about simplicity and lightening your soul? I think it’s true….

It’s been awhile since we’ve had our own space and it is sure grand. We have a bathroom sink. A teeny, plastic, punching sink that I’m grateful for each and every time I spit into its magical disappearing hole. We’ve finally pulled out our heavy copper bottomed pans and that purple dish towel my friend Benny passed on to me a couple years ago. My favorite cookbooks are stacked sardine-style into the corner cabinet of the trailer living space. We even bought a used front-loading washer and dryer set that is mint green. Those live in the barn along with our full size fridge. Luxury.

There’s a shower in the barn that Josh installed. When you look north out of the shower through the expanse of steel surrounded space, a view of pronghorn antelopes having their morning munch is your shower view. It’s amazing to be standing there with delicious rain pouring on you, pronghorns oblivious to your staring. Of course, you’re also sharing a shower with a bat or two, thousands of moths, a few friendly spiders and perhaps a feral cat or two, but it’s still positively divine. Today, it’s a treat that can’t be replicated with common day comforts. Tomorrow, it’s a frozen tundra sucking the life from my summer soul. But that’s a different day, a different story.