can you even dye my eyes to match my gown?

My favorite part of the treck was the last day - Bozeman to Seattle. Almost 700 miles of pretty. Paul was determined, determined he said, to drive us out of Montana. I was making silly jokes about how we’d been there 2 days or 6 weeks or 134 years. Montana is big. Big as in you can spend three days driving through it and still have another three days to go kinda big. It’s also breathtaking. I had never before had a landscape make me feel all fluttery and in love. Extra surprising to me given my city mouse status. I’ve never been a camper or nature hiker, I’ve never owned a sleeping bag – yet there I was, breathless and wide eyed as we drove curve after curve of mountain passes from western Montana through Idaho. We both felt kinda sentimental leaving Montana. It probably didn’t help matters that I had picked Simon and Garfunkle as the music to leave Montana by, or the slight drizzle and overcast skies. Unlike much of the trip Paul and I were mostly quiet, feeling kind of small in comparison to all the beauty that was around us.

It sounds so trite.

But listen up, city dwellers, there are places still that are empty. Where there are no billboards or electrical poles or airplane noise ordinances. Where it’s just tall and golden and full of colors that are brand new and completely familiar at the same time. Where you can really get the feeling that you are tiny. Just a hundred pounds or so of squishy and there are these trees that effortlessly outstand you and these mountains that have rocks resting on them that are triple your size.

It was that stunning.

It’s turned me into one step above a Harloquin novelist!

Three things about Idaho!

What Paul thanked Idaho for: taking care of the downhill.

His other astute observation: in winter, I could pretty much sled from Idaho to my apartment. Depending on snow cover.

What I bet and lost on: the “Welcome to Idaho” sign was not, I repeat, NOT shaped like a potato.

I was swirling with emotions when we got into Seattle. You can’t really see the city until you are almost in it. We turned a bend and all of a sudden there were lights everywhere. As we took our exit and were spit out into downtown I was just stuck on thinking “I live here now.” It wasn’t in a freaked out way, or in a terribly excited way – it was matter of fact. Convincing myself. Calming myself. That kind of way.

We, of course, got a little lost. Took a try or two to find the building. But once I realized that I had my apartment number and address mixed up – we were all set and just across the street from where we needed to be. Opening the door and peeking into the street lamp lit room, I felt like a kid sneaking into a neighbors playhouse. Familiar yet unsure. It smelled of fresh paint and recently refinished hardwood floors. Paul was the first to find the swing. I was the first to swing on it though. He gave me a big hug and suggested a much needed beer. My heart was pounding. We grabbed the keys. Locked the door and walked to Collins Pub for beer, booze and a jumbo ravioli.

Later, we feel asleep in the living room. Mattress on the floor. Looking out the windows. I was drunk and happy and preoccupied with the boy lying next to me. The first night here was as good as it could have ever been. Paul was a nice bit of home to have around and the city was a good dose of brand new. The next day would be the best day ever. EVER. It was movie good.

Today was my first day of work. I wore high(ish) heels and met about 14 dozen people, all of whose names I won’t remember tomorrow. I made one friend, a food critic, who took me out for what has surely got to be the best macaroni and cheese in the entire WORLD and then assisted me in my quest to purchase a shower curtain. I walked home from downtown after dark and came to the realization that my neighborhood is about 200% sketchier at night than it is during the day. Thank goodness for my crime fighting skillz!

I’m about one ruby slipper heel click into being home.