Three weeks in Wyoming

I recently took a break from my surprisingly stressful life (considering that i do not have a job, house, pet, or significant other and all i really do is travel through Latin America) and visited my family in the states. The first stop? Home... well, as close to home as any place can get these days anyway: Wyoming.

My fabulous mother was having a birthday, and my father (whose spouse had arranged my flight) thought it was a good idea to send me to see her first. The only problem? I had become increasingly lonely over the previous weeks by myself, slowing wasting away to an unknown illness, and my mother had a plan to take her spouse to climb the Teton Mountains for their fifth anniversary (which also happened to be on her birthday). So that meant that i was flying home to an empty house... in the middle of summer in Wyoming...

But as it turns out, my mother and i had a few days together before she left, and one of the first things we did? Go to her local asian nail salon and get my year-and-three-months-traveling feet addressed. As we walked in, and everyone greeted my mother warmly, she stage whispers that my feet are in pretty bad shape (which is very true) and gives a conspiratorial wink to the poor woman who will be in charge of making them presentable.

After much soaking, filing, shaving, and scrubbing my feet looked like they belonged to someone else!

(Just as long as you ignore the open wounds from mosquito bite scratching... I have little to no self-control)

Did i mention that my mother's birthday/wedding anniversary also happens to fall on my beautiful nation's Independence Day (she is a scientist and finds it very logical to celebrate everything at once)? So we both got fancy flag designs on our new toes! And as an additional safe guard to my sanity, my mother had her father come up to keep me company while she was gone. And let me just say, my grandfather is AWESOME!

My grandmother has already relocated up to my hometown of Casper in an assisted living apartment in order to be closer to her doctors (there aren't doctors in the town they live in that's about 3 hours away... in fact just about the only things in that town are a post office, a bar, and a really good Mexican restaurant) and have help with her depreciating sight and hearing. But she and i have a tenuous relationship in the best of times, so having my grandfather as a buffer was very appreciated.

Granddad showed up, took one look at my fancy toes, and decided that we should probably pack up the old lady (his words) and take those toes out to the Municipal band's concert in the park.

Taking my toes out to enjoy the Municipal Band

Other than that i experimented in cooking meat for the grandparents (it turned out edible), giggled and wrestled with my grandfather, and watched some fireworks with a glass of scotch and water. The best moments of Wyoming are always saying something that surprises or amuses my soft spoken grandfather, watching him raise his wild eyebrows up to the middle of his forehead, big eyes peeking over his spectacles, while he says oh, really? And then his whole belly shakes with his little chuckles as his eyes squint into well-worn crows feet while a hand either taps me on the shoulder or pushes his glasses back up his nose. He is so precious to me it literally hurts my chest!

Mostly, we enjoyed each other's company in quiet, watching the clouds or listening to the many birds sing from the trees that were once no bigger than i am but now stretch up over all the homes in the neighborhood. The place has changed quite a lot since i lived there nearly 15 years ago, with houses filling in most of the fields we used to run through. There is still one at the end of my mother's street, clearing the view to the mountains at the south of town.

The only field left...

Oh! And we also went down to the Humane Society and adopted a dog for my grandfather to have company in his now empty house. Her name is Lady and like all shelter dogs i have met, she will claim your heart in ten minutes or less.

The two of them are getting along quite well from what i hear. They go on adventures, have conversations throughout the days, and enjoy the same old movies on television at night.

But as the title says, i spent more than one weekend in Wyoming with my mother. For three weeks i kicked about the house, working on my TEFL certification, baking from time to time, and drinking wine. The best thing i tried to bake up? Strawberry Pizza inspired by this blog.

Strawberry Pizza

I can't follow directions properly, and i couldn't find the mixer for a while, but that's the general idea. Mine turned out wonderful! Also, i used the sugar cookie recipe from here for the crust because in my lazy browsing i did not come across the crust in the first blog. Again, keep in mind that i can't follow a recipe to save my life, but other than being a little thicker than the ideal in my head, using it as inspiration was a good choice.

The more appropriate view of what i'm doing each day

Both the wine and the pizzas were delicious!

Of course while i was in town i had to take in the Central Wyoming Fair and Rodeo. It was less controversial for me than i remember (maybe something to do with the bull fights and animal treatment in Latin America...), and i LOVED when they plopped little cowkids onto the back of sheep and tell them to hold on as long as they can... so adorable!

At the end they let the horses run free around the entire complex a few times and then around the arena until we all leave.

They were beautiful.

Also, mum and i took part in a 5k glow run/walk, which encourages the best costumes to come and exercise to benefit Safe Kids. So we went to Target, found anything that glows at night... Which for mum turned out to be an adorable butterfly outfit while i crafted a glow in the dark lake with these adorable ducks i found.

Yep, those are glow in the dark fishes hanging down

It turned out well. And the exercise bit was fun too (who would have ever thought to hear me say that!)!

And then I packed up myself, put Clifford into Bitty's little yellow car, and moved along to visit friends before I landed at my father's house for his birthday.

Overall, not only did i survive the heat, i had a very pleasant visit with my family... Until next time, Wyoming!

Exploring my future options

I have been seeing various discussions on what it means to be a Gen Y, a Millennial, who falls into what category, and how this generation should do this thing or that thing, how we are unhappy, how we are disappointing our country, etc. etc. Honestly, i mostly ignore all of this information because, when you group all of the young adults into categories, how in the world are we supposed to take you seriously? We are not all tech-savvy, were are not all unhappy, some of us love working for the same company for years and investing in our retirement, some are activists, some are lost, and most likely do not care about your statistics about our lives. Personally i think you're right, i was raised to think were are all pretty damn special and unique, just as every other individual in a generation has been and will be.

Were all Baby Boomers hippies? My mother definitely wasn't. In fact, if i remember my history lesson correctly, the silent majority wasn't involved in the free-loving, war-protesting, hippy movement. I would be willing to say that in my home state of Wyoming and many others there likely wasn't so much free-loving, war-protesting movements outside in the streets where everyone could see. My father had the gorgeous long hair and fabulous bell bottom pants, and i sometimes ask him what it was like to see the television reports over dinner and know people being drafted. Scary.

What's more? As i encounter people or children of people who were involved in these country-changing movements, often they have stories that largely circle around the drugs, sex, and self-involved spiritual quests to find oneself, not the idealized pictures i have held up in my mind of what that movement came to represent for me. Disappointing, really. And these people, the ones i meet or their children, guess what the majority of them do? The same thing everyone does. They went to work at some random business, gave up living off the grid in the dream of their activism, and kept their heads down. It breaks my heart to see this generation of broken activists. The war in Vietnam ended, and then they got down to business to earn money, raise their family, and survive. As simple as that. So i guess the question they are asking (or at least i feel the pressure to ask myself) is why, as a generation, are we having such a hard time doing the same?

Of course i don't know. There's no way i could know this. Just like there's no way to really explain how it could have been possible to give it up and go work for some firm and invest in retirement. All i know is that i have not found this an easy path to follow. And, at least in my head, i gave it a few tries. There are a lot of things that are both wrong and right in the world (and the business world in particular), and while i don't have any idea on how to fix or support them, i do know that i can't seem to find a reason to just accept the way things are and do what society tells me is the next step. I am fully aware that i am nearly 30, unemployed, habitually single, with little to no direction in my life, without health care but with some serious medical questions, and have friends and family strung around the world. But you know what? I am happy every single day. And how many of the people we know doing what we are supposed to do next can say that? It seems ridiculous, but honestly, even when i've been mugged, when i'm desperately missing my people, and when communication with the outside world seems impossible; every single day i am happy.

I was not able to say this when i had a 40 hour a week job back in the States... But there is one huge thing i miss desperately: having a home. Some little place in the world that felt right, where i could settle into my skin and just exist. This general malaise has recently made me question that while life is hands-down far exceeding what i expected, i am not sure how long i can maintain this path i've chosen. Can someone really be happy without a home? For how long? And what would i need to feel that again after 15 years?

So far i've come to three things i personally need to maintain my happy life indefinitely:
1.) a job that i love, that gives me some end product to feel accomplished at the end of the day.
2.) a location that i love, where i can feel myself and free.
3.) a person that i love, who supports me fully and will always be there for me.

Number one has thus far proved elusive. Things that i love, and then have to work ridiculous hours at have a tendency to turn sour to me. Those few things that i am still passionate about (travel, baking, reading...) i have held off from exploring as a job because they are so precious i worry about loosing my love for them too (plus, who would pay me to do those things? No, really... is there someone?). It feels like if i were able to find this job, i would be able to live anywhere... but as it is an untried theory i can't be certain.

Number two is the most exciting for me. Right now, I am considering a) Yellowstone National Park, b) the Pacific coast of Costa Rica, and c) anyplace near to my dear friends and family (such as the Big Island of Hawai'i). I think that if i was around my favorite places in the world i could do anything for work as long as i was still free enough to enjoy my surroundings. Rent out rooms in the house i would own (my own little oven and library!), work at some small local job to meet people, and maybe get some income online... I've learned to live on basically nothing, and found myself to be much happier for it. So with enough to own my personal space, i think i could make life work.

And number three is very dependent on an unpredictable variable. I have been traveling with my cherished younger sister for a year and a half, and in that time i felt that i could do anything, anywhere. The problem is that this last one makes me lose the independence that i have loved over the past 15 years. If my happiness requires me to stick near this other person, be it my sister, a friend, or (as unlikely as it may be) a mate, what do i do when this person wants to settle into some place i don't want to be and then doesn't have time to give me anymore? From both past and recent experience, i found that this is the most difficult question to be posed. It turns out, i leave... because i am not only high maintenance, but also not nearly as supportive as i would like my other to be.

Having a Latin boyfriend

My last Lent post! (And, true to form from years of procrastination, it is late)

I have many things in this little side blog that I will eventually talk about. Quite a few things, really. But instead I am going to sit down and type out all the nonsense that I have been dragging myself through recently. Because at some point during the past three months, I decided to have a Latin boyfriend.

Not just saying yes to having some gentleman caller, or agreeing to see someone exclusively. I went ahead and got myself entangled in some strange inter-cultural relationship where we are seemingly playing roles from a telenovella. I went from a relatively placid life of travel with the most dramatic moments when Clifford would get entangled with Betty or some other luggage arguments.

Now I can be seen literally yelling about how ridiculous this is in some combination of Spanish/French/English on the streets of Cali while my jealous Latin boyfriend interrupts me constantly and gestures wildly outside my favorite salsa club. We spit fire at each other about as often as he grabs me into giant hugs (I know, someone feels comfortable enough to wrap me up in a hug. It freaks me out, too), and it doesn't matter if we are standing in front of our friends, complete strangers, or alone in front of the bathroom mirror.

We hold hands when we walk, and he needs almost all of my attention when we are in the same space. I feel both incredibly suffocated by all of this, and also strangely drawn to staying in it. We both seem to be caught in this strange pull to just throw up our hands and say it's not worth all the stress it creates that balances all the laughter and fun we have when things are going well.

We have more problems with communication than I thought possible, even with the language barrier we both knew existed when we entered into this madness. We are both uncomfortable with the intense differences in our respective cultures: I cannot understand the over-protective, jealous, possessive tendencies; he is confused by my fierce independence over even the smallest things (like walking to the bathroom), my strange need to complete everything that I commit myself to (including working for a slightly inappropriate boss while I am not even living at the hostel any longer) while I cannot commit to even the most loose plans for the next day, and most of all how I can get so upset when he interrupts me while I am trying to talk.

We are so very different. But we are also fundamentally similar people. We love to laugh at ourselves, and both have dangerously lazy habits at times. We both keep track of all of the members of our group, almost obsessively (even though I often have to remind him to let B make her own decisions and run about freely, just as long as we know where she is). We are stubborn, and dislike being wrong so much it makes us physically uncomfortable. He will run in the sand and play in the water with me, and I love to go out dancing with him.

Last night he told me that he doesn't want to be with someone who doesn't need him and who doesn't consult him in their plans. I told him that I don't want any more of the drama or arguing or feeling suffocated and trapped. We argue about arguing. We make each other cry from anger or being unsure of what exactly is going on. We still don't really know.

But he's right, I don't need him. I have traveled for a year, both through some rough, turbulent times and peaceful, happy ones. And I am still here, and I am positive that I could make it as far as B and I want to go, just the two of us. But maybe, I want him around. Even with all the drama, all the tears, and all the frustrations. And for me, isn't that more important?