Baby, It's Cold Outside

Montana is cold. Very cold.

Going back to my dad not having a car, it's veeeeeery cold. Freezing, in fact.

And we were walking everywhere in it. 

For example, early yesterday afternoon, my dad and I put on some warm clothes and walked to the bus stop. We were heading down to the YMCA (about nine blocks from my dad's apartment). It has been snowing constantly for the last two days, and we now have at least a foot of snow covering the ground. I dressed as was needed to get me from the front door to the bus. 

But the bus didn't come. I think we probably missed it. 

So -- and this speaks to our intense dedication to working out (or my dad's, rather)-- we walked to the gym. 

Walked. Nine blocks in freezing weather. Literally.

We passed a little ticker-tape sign that read 0 degrees. I repeat, ZERO degrees. 

When I got to the gym, I immediately went to the locker room and took off my shoes. I then spent the next twenty minutes slapping and poking my feet, trying to breathe life back into my toes.

My workout was severely shortened by this effort.

Gingerbread Houses and Other Wintery Things

Wednesday I spent the day with Desirae, a good old friend of mine who shared "total nerd" status with me in third grade. We bonded immediately, and we've managed to stay in touch pretty regularly since then, thanks to good ol' snail mail. It's always nice to see her again.

She invited me over to her house around noon, where we immediately set to work making gingerbread houses. But not just any gingerbread houses. Deluxe houses complete with M&M trees, marshmallow snowmen, and powder sugar snow to cover the rooftops.

So many candy options to choose from!

My masterpiece! Skittle fence, candy cane
door, and Nerds Christmas lights. 

I have rekindled my love for making gingerbread houses.

After putting half the candy on our houses and the other half in our tummies, I was invited to be a part of their large extended family bowling trip. So we all piled into cars and headed to the bowling alley across from the cemetery.

Readjusting Expectations

Coming back to my hometown always takes an adjustment. The city (does it really count as a city?) never seems to change -- same streets, mostly the same businesses, mostly the same people-- and yet it all feels different.

There's now nothing to do.

I have no idea how I managed to stay entertained in high school.

Also, the house I grew up in has since been sold, so when I'm here I stay in a new place with different smells and sounds. I know it doesn't seem like much, and I guess I'd have hoped that by the time I was getting ready to graduate I wouldn't need that traditional "home" feeling anymore. But I still do. And it's not there anymore. A bit sad, in a way.

But I'm not saying that I completely dislike the challenges of a new place. They can be fun. For example, as I've stated before, setting up a new kitchen is really a blast.

And I love organizing other people's stuff. I get this strange satisfaction from looking at a mess and transforming it into a comfortable, livable space. Clutter stresses me out.

So, being the great guy that he is, my dad has pretty much given me free reign of setting up and organizing his apartment. Currently sitting on his kitchen counter is a running list of all the things he needs to get his bachelor pad in good shape for after I leave.

I think that if all my other career ideas don't pan out, I'll just become a professional organizer and have people hire me to organize their lives.

I'm reluctant to admit I can think of only a handful of careers that sound like more fun. Writing, producing, and wedding planning are some of them. I think I'm officially adding professional organizer to my list of potential life paths. The more the merrier, right?

Back on the topic of adjustments . . . The other thing about coming back to Billings is that people move or change, or both (which is good). Very few people have stayed the same, even if it sometimes feels like this town is in a constant state of stagnation.

So the list of people I make a point of seeing every break keeps getting smaller and smaller, until I'm at the point where I only see three or four people (though those three or four are very special to me). I spend the rest of my time at coffee shops, writing and thinking of home. Oklahoma is home. Temporarily, at least.

Then I'll move and make a new home.

Sorry I keep talking about this. It's been on my mind a lot lately. I've termed it "the plague of the petrified soon-to-be college graduate." Catchy, right?

I'm looking into trademark options as we speak.

Uphill Both Ways in Freezing Weather

I flew into Billings yesterday, leaving balmy Las Vegas behind for the frigid winter wind of Montana -- of which Dad and I had ample time to appreciate, as we stood outside for a solid twenty minutes waiting for the taxi to arrive. Just goes to show how small my town is. We probably got one of only two taxis in service that day.

Side Note: Dad is sitting here and would like me to clarify that I was in Henderson, not Las Vegas. He says that Henderson is the second largest city in Nevada. However, since they bleed together and there is only a tiny sign to indicate the change from one city to the other, I will continue to call it Las Vegas. Sounds much more exotic that way.

The last two days have been filled with rearranging/cleaning/bleaching my dad's apartment, seeing friends, experiencing my small hometown's public transportation, and walking to the Dollar Tree to buy more utensils for my dad's kitchen.

It's actually quite fun to help buy stuff for someone else's kitchen (using someone else's money). I'll probably be over the moon when it's time to get stuff for my own kitchen (though I am much less enthusiastic about the spending my own money part). But seriously, setting up a house is so much fun. And the dollar store is actually the best thing that was ever created for said homemaking. For example, why would you go to a regular store (even Walmart, the cheapville of them all), when you can get that same vase/oil dispenser/wine glass/measuring cup set for a fraction of the cost at the dollar store? One buck for everything? Yes please.

Then, of course, came the adventure of walking home with my loot. See, Dad's not-so-trusty, ancient-beyond-belief station wagon finally bit the dust not long ago, and as such, I am without a car. Which means walking long distances to get places (ten blocks to the grocery store -- uphill both ways in snow and ice) or taking the bus.

Oh, the bus. See, in small-town Montana, not very many people take the bus. I have yet to be on a bus with more than four people at a time. The city is too spread out, and the public transportation too sparse, to make it very convenient to not have a car. So most people have cars. And no one rides the bus.

Except me.

Five quarters will take me anywhere I want to go -- as long as there's a bus station nearby, of course.

It's very interesting to see your hometown, the place where you've grown up and spent 13+ years, from the back of a bus. Just sitting there, bumping along. It's a different feeling, though it's hard to describe. And I kinda enjoy it. I don't particularly enjoy being limited in mobility or anything, but it's a new adventure to attack Billings by bus. It gives me a new challenge during my week or so here.

That and keeping my balance on all this ice. I shall consider it an immense accomplishment if I manage to stay on my feet and off my butt while walking around out here.