thoughts on days of sadness and joy...

...even joy of the fairly strange kind.

I woke up last Friday to texts from friends making sure I was not near the horribly sad events in Aurora and to news stations filled with stories of carnage and horror and broken-hearted people.  All of Denver was thrown into a state of confusion and panic.  We were devastated while hearing about all those who were hurt and killed in the attack.  We were confused and angry, wondering how and why anyone would want to inflict so much pain.

The question that comes up whenever we are faced with tragedy is "what do we do now"?  No one can plan around the choices of a madman.  We can't insulate ourselves from all possibility of danger without cutting ourselves off from society entirely.  The sad and frightening truth is that life is fleeting.  Life is fragile.  So, beyond remembering those who were lost, praying for those left in pain, and making effort to love and appreciate friends and family, what do you do?

Turns out, in our case, you go to a renaissance festival.

The ale flowed and the bosoms heaved.

We had planned to go this weekend anyway.  Our friend was having a birthday and it sounded fun to go out and take in the fabulous strangeness.  Though it felt strange to go to something so light-hearted after something so dark, we thought it was necessary.  It was almost like defiance against the sadness.  A passionate "screw you, I say this is not going to take the joy out of life.  I say we are going to go amongst the renaissance folk and have fun!"  And fun was most definitely had.

It is fun to drink beer in hundred-degree heat surrounded by men in chain-mail and women dressed like fairies.  It is funny to walk past the shops full of chalices and war-horns and wonder whether the people in metal or black wool or animal skins are feeling the heat quite as much as you are.  Watching acrobats drag your friends on stage so they can wear tutus and participate in stunts is wonderful (it looked great on you, Todd).  And getting to revel in my own nerdiness by being able to readily identify Link and Zelda or various Game of Thrones characters?  It was great.

But beyond the moments of vague mockery, revelry, and the occasional judging (if you are a sixty-year-old woman, you should not be wearing just a bedazzled belly-dance bra.  And, no, the fairy dust does not make it better), there was a strange sense of joy in all of the dirt and sparkle and madness.  Despite how ugly the world is sometimes, we are still free to laugh and eat and dance and drink and let those freak flags fly.  We get to enjoy the sun (scalding though it may be), and the music (though it may come from pan-flutes), and the sights, and most of all, each other.

When we step away from all the very real ugliness that exists in the world, we remember that there is still beauty and light and warmth out there.  We remember that when life seems most fleeting and fragile, the very things we fall back on are what makes it worth living.  We find ourselves surrounded and supported by love and faith and the belief that the good in the world and in the people around us still outweighs all the fear and evil that we may see.

For everyone hurt and confused and angry and broken and still recovering from the tragedy in Aurora or any other of the very real tragedies, big and small, that we face in our lives, know that there are people around you who love and care and understand what you are going through.  And I hope that some day you will come out the other side of it and be able to see the wondrous and beautiful and incredibly strange things in life that can bring back joy. 

Until then, you are not alone.

you can take the girl out of montana...

...but then she will just be strange in other places.

Sorry I have been slacking off on the writing.  I totally thought I would be updating frequently this summer, but I find I have far less motivation than I thought I did.  Whoops.  I have been being productive in other ways, though!  I have helped fix irrigation and build brick steps in the backyard, I have (successfully!) helped cook spicy Thai shrimp, I have climbed sand dunes and eaten yak tacos, and just yesterday I became an official resident of Colorado.  I am registered to vote, my driver's license says I belong here, and I have a library card.  So it's legit.

Behold, the completely stable face joining your state, Coloradans.

While Tyler is celebrating this cross-over with various victory dances and renditions of "Rocky Mountain High", I like to think that moving does not change me much.  I grew up in Montana and the things I learned there don't leave easily.  They've become ingrained in me, shaping who I am.  And I want to be sure I hang onto all of those things no matter where I go (including China soon!).  So, to hold onto my link to the best state ever (sorry Colorado, but I love my Montana) here are some things that make me Montanan*.

*note that not all Montanans have all these characteristics.  I am quite sure that some of them are just reflections of my own neurosis.  Do not judge my state by my strangeness.

 I firmly believe that unless I am going to a wedding, funeral, or fancy party, there is no reason not to wear jeans.  A nice shirt and jeans can go anywhere.

Hey, if Gaga can get away with wearing this...

Always keep a jacket in the car.  Sure, it may be seventy degrees and sunny now, but things change.  It could be snowing in the next hour.  Seriously.

Yeah, I know what the health magazines say, but I have no problem with red meat pretty much every day.  Steak and potatoes, hamburger in pasta sauce, meatloaf, steak-and-ale pie, meatballs, burgers...I will eat them all.  And I probably won't be sorry.

Don't pretend you don't want it.

I don't really do manicures.  I definitely don't do pedicures.  And my mom has been cutting my hair almost my whole life.  Salons and spas are foreign territories to me and I am fine with it.

Teach your kids to make friends with librarians.  That is how I got out of going to recess all through middle school in fifteen-degree weather.  Reading saved me from frostbite.

They would be playing tag, but they can't see each other.

The best work-outs are when you make a day of it.  Hiking through Glacier Park, swimming and boating in the lake, biking twenty-two miles over Hungry Horse Dam, or just long walks work great for me.  I get so distracted by how much fun I am having, I don't realize how sore I am until the next day.  To be honest, it's one of the only ways I can get a decent workout.

Fall in love with the cold.  I can handle bundling up to keep warm, but if the weather starts out hot, I melt.  Denver is gorgeous and wonderful, but the heat here makes me inert and pathetic for most of the day.  I will always love chilly Montana.

 It gets to 90 degrees and I think I am here.

Watch out for bears.  And mountain lions.  And, for God's sake, do not come into Montana and try to get a picture with the wildlife.  I saw tourists trying to put their five-year-old on a bighorn sheep so they could take a picture for their Christmas card.  Unless you want junior in a hospital for a good while, don't do that.

Big cities are nice.  Montana does not have them.  We get lots of space instead.  I will take my space and lack of people over the terrifying traffic and pollution of cities.  I don't think I will ever feel comfortable with these crazy ant-hill crowds, but I had better get used to it before China.

Boots are much less about looking fancy than they are about trekking through several feet of snow without slipping.  Always keep dressy boots separate from boots to be used in snow.  And never wear Uggs with a mini-skirt.  Ever.

 Please.

Just because I know how to ride a horse does not mean I owned one or rode them around town.  I just could have.  Because I lived across the street from a ranch.  And that was totally normal.

I honestly can't tell if my affinity for flannel comes more from my hipster tendencies or my hick-ness.

Also, braids.  I really like braids.

 *DROOL*

I will never understand how anyone could pay more than...say...fifty dollars for a purse.  Ever.  Designer labels and such don't make any sense to me and I just don't get it.  Clearly, I do not belong in big fancy cities.  Or near the East Coast.

Sweats.  Own them, love them, wear them through the house until they loose all semblance of elastic stretchiness, and then buy some more.

If I am several states away from the ocean and I say "I am going to the beach", I mean the lake.  That's a beach.  For me.

 There's my beach.

...what is a prep school?  Seriously, I don't understand.  Boarding schools are things out of fantasy books and I am almost certain the entire Gossip Girl universe is completely made up.

Rocky Mountain Oysters are bull testicles.  You season them, slice them thin, and grill them.  And they are delicious.

I danced at my wedding reception barefoot.  And I loved it.  Barefoot is wonderful.

If you have not been to Montana, befriended a Montanan, loved a Montanan, or experienced the state in any way other than through a TV screen or a book, get thee hence.  Seriously.  And I hope all the other states that you may belong to treat you as well.