Presenting: How You Can Tell I’m A White Girl From MT

   Sometimes I forget how obvious it is that I am from this state:

“Montana is the 4th-most extensive, but the 7th-least populous and the 3rd-least densely populated of the 50 United States. The economy is primarily based on services, with ranching, wheat farming, oil and coal mining in the east, and lumber, tourism, and hard rock mining in the west.” - Wikipedia

   Yeah.

   I live my life every day assuming it is fairly similar to the lives of 20-somethings across the U.S, but recently I have discovered that it is not. What with reality shows, social websites, and various other sources of information I have realized I am abnormal. Here is why.

1. Layers

   When we first moved to Montana, my family learned a very important secret known as “layering”. In layman’s terms, layering is the act of putting multiple articles of clothing on, one on top of the other, until you either a) can’t put your arms down or b) feel uncomfortably itchy and/or warm. Simple concept. Every single time we left the house, rain or shine, my dad would call out, “don’t forget your layers!”

   I am embarrassed to admit that I am now the Layer Reminder-er.

   When I go somewhere with my friends: “Don’t forget your wind layer!”

   When I go on a date with my boyfriend: “It’ll get cooler later! Don’t forget an extra layer!”

   Probably to myself as I’m dressing for the day: “Ooh, I’d hate to get cold at work! Better grab another layer!”

   It’s a curse.

   So yes, that is me. I’m the girl walking down the street with a sweatshirt draped over my arm “for later” and a windbreaker in my bag “just in case”. I’D HATE TO BE WITHOUT AN EXTRA LAYER.

2. My Car

Three things here that give away my Montana-ness.

Windshield: Is cracked. Really badly. Not just a few little chips here and there, but cracked. Something similar to this:

How long has it been cracked like that, you ask? Well let’s see…I bought it in September of 2008 and then that dump truck flung a rock at me on Highway 93 in about November of that year so…I’d say it’s been cracked like that since…

NOVEMBER OF 2008.

Radio Stations: Are all country stations. Enough said.

Cleanliness: Exists only on the inside. After the dump truck incident that chipped my windshield, I tried the automatic carwash and THAT was a mistake. (Sidenote: don’t take your car through an automatic carwash if it was parked in the shade all morning then driven to town on a 95 degree day and you have a slight crack in your windshield. You’re welcome.) 
   You’re probably wondering why I don’t just go to the manual carwash instead. Well, the answer to that is I don’t carry cash therefore I can’t put any bills into the quarter-maker machine which means I’d have to go out of my way to get cash before driving to the manual carwash. I guess a simpler way of saying that is I’m too lazy. Either one.

Last but not least...


3. Summer Tan Lines

Hey, look! It’s me in a bathing suit!

And that about sums it up.

remembering

   In celebration of the fact that I get to visit my beloved family members in the big SLC in just under a month, I thought I’d share a reminiscent story about my awkward childhood.

   Every summer after my family made the move from Utah to Montana, my younger sister and I were shipped off to visit Grandma for a week or two. My parents would drive us to the halfway point, give us a hug and $20, then probably do a few fist pumps as they drove away. I don’t blame them. Then we’d hop in the car with Grandma and start the trek toward our old stomping grounds.

   Spending those weeks at my grandparent’s house provided me with some of my fondest childhood memories. Shopping, driving around, eating Arctic Circle, going to IMAX movies, Lagoon days, etc. were my absolute favorite summer adventures. I’d brag all about it when school started back up in the fall when my friends would ask me about my new sparkly Lagoon keychain or the OTTERS 3D bookmark I faithfully kept with me at all times.

   Although we were on the go most of the time, we had some down days around the house as well. On the afternoons that it was simply too hot out to do anything productive or we had worn our poor grandparents out with our constant energy levels, my sister and I were to fend for ourselves.

   Luckily my grandma is awesome and always kept at least five big, fancy, puffy, colorful dress-up dresses in the guest closet so of course we’d immediately get ourselves into those puppies. I’d always choose the purple off-the-shoulder number and my younger accomplice would attempt to hold up a similar pink one made for someone about eight years older than her. We’d spin and twirl and tip toe and spin while we were tip toeing then jump while we were twirling and so on. That would go on for a good hour until our skin started to itch and our shoulders got sore from trying to keep our princess gowns from sliding completely off our curve-less bodies.

   Next was the dollhouse escapade. We’d haul out the two giant houses my grandma had stored in the basement and fight over who got the minivan and the baby with the pink pajamas. I’d obviously win then try to console my sibling by telling her the blue one was better anyway because it didn’t have a scratch on the back. You don’t see the scratch? It’s right there, I promise!

   There was no scratch.

   I’d get bored after a while because I was far too mature to be playing with dolls for two hours. So I’d convince my sister that now it was time to scooter! Scootering is fun, remember???

   So outside we’d go. The scooters were always stored by the old bikes and we’d try not to knock everything over as we wiggled the handlebars out. We’d ask if we could open the garage door then fly out and down the driveway, into the street, dodge the pothole, get to the sidewalk, avoid the sprinklers that seemed to always be on, circle around, go back across the street, back up Grandma’s driveway, and repeat. For hours.

   One time I made a rookie mistake and got my front wheel stuck in a driveway crack and face planted. Determined not to let the neighbor boy see my face turn eggplant purple, I got up and laughed as if I had planned it. Probably hard to believe considering I was 14 and at least 5’7” and normally people of that stature and age don’t “fall on purpose”, but it was worth a shot. Once our feet started to bleed from having to push ourselves on the asphalt, we’d retire to the backyard where we’d chase their adopted cat, Scruffy, around. My sister always wanted to hold Scruffy. You could tell because at the end of the trip she resembled Scruffy due to the amount of cat hair stuck to her clothing.

   After dinner, our friend Jessie from across the street would come over and it was back into the dresses! I’d let Jessie have the purple one and I’d stuff socks into the top of a white chiffon number with a beaded collar. So sexy. Then we’d beg Bompa to let us blast Celine Dion from his shop and choreograph a very emotional music video in the backyard. I was always Celine Dion, they were my backup dancers. Although you could usually find my sister somewhere in the corner trying to make Scruffy a tent out of the skirt of her pink dress. Hopeless.

   And that was how we’d spend our summer days at Grandma and Bompa’s house if we weren’t out being spoiled rotten. To this day my sister and I can still recall the oddest yet funniest memories from those summer break trips and reminisce for hours. My goal is to be able to provide my someday-kids with memories like my parents allowed me. Times change but those memories will always be close to our hearts.

a progression

so I went to Vegas...

   So I went to Vegas! 

   Now I can add it to my “places I’ve randomly been” list! Which I don’t actually have yet because most of my trips are planned waaaay ahead of time, but I guess now I need to make one.

   The trip consisted of this: leave work at 5:00pm on Thursday, drive home, stay Thursday night, leave home for Las Vegas (a 14 hour drive) at 6:00pm on Friday, drive all night (well technically I rode, but still), arrive in Sin City at 9:00am Saturday, stay Saturday and Sunday night, leave Vegas at 5:30am on Monday, arrive back home Monday evening. So basically I’m considering contacting the mayor of New York City and requesting a nickname switch so Vegas can be titled “The City that Never Sleeps”.

   I’m 93% positive I survived off of a total of 16 hours of sleep the entire trip which, if you know me, is not the norm. I’m an 8-hours-of-sleep-a-night kind of lady so breaking that pattern really messes with how I roll. Don’t get me wrong, I was beyond excited to be offered the opportunity to hitch a ride for a weekend getaway with people I love. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience although half the time I felt like I was walking around in some sort of dream land. The drastic increase in temperature (going from 58 degrees to 93), the lack of sleep, and the interesting characters that roam Las Vegas kind of made me think someone slipped a little somethin-somethin in my juice and I was hallucinating the entire weekend.

   For instance, I met this guy:

mmm...Kotton Kandy

   Be jealous. He’s also my personal Claim To Fame because I just so happened to see him on an episode of America’s Got Talent a couple days beforehand. Yes I know, what has America come to. It took me a while to decipher whether or not I actually encountered this being or if I was losing it. But no, he’s real. It happened.

   I also got pick-pocketed! Can you believe it?! The culprit must’ve sniffed out my vulnerable Montana scent and attacked at the precise moment I felt safe. My mistake. Luckily, I am poor (I never thought I’d say that) because the villain only got $6 out of me.

   Ha! That’ll learn ya. – Me, a Montanan

   In addition to those life-changing experiences, I also visited my first M&M store:

Proof

   While inside, I was fairly certain it was a test from God about how long I can handle being in a crowd of candy-crazed tourists pushing and shoving their way to the giant rainbow wall as if it was the last source of food on earth. Needless to say, I failed the test. I barely escaped with my sanity. As I awaited the rest of my particular tourist group, I sat outside and just watched the characters pass by. That’s when I met Kotton Kandy, actually. See now, if I would’ve passed the test I never would’ve gotten to meet a celebrity. It all works out in the end.

   I saw a lot of unflattering lady parts “dressed” in unflattering lady clothing,  stepped in a lot of dried vomit, ate buffet food, saw a lot of bada$$ cars, and cried inside about not having enough money to do anything. All in all it was an awesome weekend getaway and I will definitely be going back. Be ready.  

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good one, 'ma

   At first I had my doubts, but now I am about 99% sure Mother Nature doesn’t like it when I leave my Real Home for my College Home.

   When I make the trip home for whatever reason, I always have it scheduled out: when I head home, how many days I’ll be there, what day I’ll leave, what time I’ll leave, etc. I tend to stick fairly closely to this schedule because unfortunately I have a job and they kind of like to know what days I work.

   My freshman year, I noticed the weather would somehow take a turn for the worst on the day I had planned to head back to school. More snow than was expected, icy winds, ridiculous amount of rain, and whatever else Montana can throw at you. I’d always tough it out, though, and didn’t think much of it.

   Well, as the years have gone by the weather has progressively gotten worse each and every time I attempt to leave home. For example, in March I had spent a week at home for Spring Break. The weather wasn’t the least bit “Spring-y” by the way. But I had my fingers crossed that the day I chose to head back to College Home would be a beautiful, clear, sunny day.

   It was not.

   Rather I was thrown into something that resembled this:

   Seriously. About an hour away from home, the sky turned completely grey and little precious snowflakes began falling. Not so horrible, I thought. But as I reached the stretch of my trek I lovingly refer to as the Corridor of Death and Torture (CDT), everything went to…crap. I couldn’t see more than twenty feet in front of me, only one lane of the Interstate was drivable, the speed max was probably 22 mph, semi-trucks were passing me left and right, cars were going off the road every mile or so, AND it was snowing flakes the size of my eyeball. So much fun!!!&(*&#(*(@! I turned down my music and gripped my steering wheel so tight that my knuckles were numb. Of course I was alone and of course there was barely any cell signal. I dedicated myself, though, and followed this one fairly calm semi for probably an hour and a half. The situation kept getting worse the deeper we drove into the CDT and I’m pretty sure I was on the verge of insanity. I began singing weird songs to myself like “La la la please don’t let me diiiieee! La la la I’m really scared and cold and helpless and scaaared please oh please la la laaaaa! I HATE DRIVING LA. LA. LA.” Kind of glad now that no one was there to hear/see that. Finally the storm moved along and I could see a little farther and drive a little faster. My semi-truck buddy, whom I referred to as Joe in one of my songs, left me in the dust and I was not happy. But slowly my speed crept back up to 65 and I was on my merry, shaky, nauseous, tired way! I told myself I was never going home again.

   

   Well here I am at home again. Today is the day I chose when planning this mini-vacation that I would head back to College Home. The weather hasn’t been too fabulous since I’ve been here, but nothing out-of-the-norm either. I got up early today to finish my laundry, pack most of my stuff, and relax before my scheduled departure time at 2:00pm only to be informed that there is a severe storm warning for thunderstorms, rain, and perhaps hail. Also, it should be occurring from about 2:00 – 6:00 which is the exact time I will be driving.

   Huh.

   So basically I have concluded that a) I’m supposed to live at home and b) Mother Nature thinks this is funny. Or Mother Nature thinks I need to develop my Montana driving skills. But since my college town is known for ridiculous weather patterns I’m leaning more toward the idea that she just has a sick sense of humor and probably finds my apprehension amusing. 

   Funny, real funny.