Yee-Haw!

I can't sleep again, and I am trying to make myself drowsy by browsing blogs and the web in general, but I don't feel a wink tired. And I just ate four mini-Snickers, some of my leftover Christmas candy, the best stuff ever (it's better in miniature form, everything is). Something tells me that if I didn't love candy coated in chocolate or yellow cake so much that I might be able to shed more pounds and run farther and faster, but something else tells me that those things are delicious and heavenly and if, as a human being, you find heaven on Earth, I'm pretty sure the Bible says to eat it.

Anyhoo, I did run today -- was aiming for three miles, but after 2.5 decided to walk -- and it wasn't great. Amazing how some days are radical and others are bogus (a new goal is to single-handedly bring back the sacred language of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; the success rate has been minimal so far). The upside of today's run was that someone yelled "Yee-haw" as they drove past. Now, I've had many cars, trucks, SUVs, and front loaders pass by and wave, whistle, honk, and shout, but never, ever have I heard someone give me a "Yee-Haw!"

And I kinda liked it.

Made me think I was in the Wild West for a moment, and I love the Wild West! I love rodeo queens who wear their hair teased into a squirrel's nest and who still wear blue eyshadow and who think children's pageants are not only appropriate, but adorable. I love men who wear their jeans three sizes too small, and have a collection (can you imagine!) of belt buckles -- big, big ones. And I love cowboy hats, horses, beer, and the idea that everyone should live on a 200 acre ranch.

You may think I am jesting, but I kid not. I grew up in Colorado, and attended my first rodeo when I was four (my grandpa bought me a cowgirl hat). I lived with my grandparents on their "farm" when I was a kid, and we had three horses, a donkey, two turkeys, a rabbit, a shitload of dogs, four cats, and some chickens. I was in 4-H and I raised two sheep: Pepsi and Sprite. And we lived on 180 acres, where there were three ponds, a wood, an old barn, and numerous outbuildings. I loved that life.

Of course, Colorado has changed so that it is barely recognizable to me anymore (like seeing a relative after many years -- you can identify them, but are always surprised to see how they've changed). Somewhere along the line, the state grew popular to live in and has become quite crowded. Still, I wouldn't mind moving back. But it's not wild anymore.

Wyoming, on the other hand, and Montana -- they're still wild. Those states still hold onto the ideals of the Wild West by permitting drive-thru liquor stores, the totting of hand guns (why conceal it? -- it belongs right there on your belt!), flexible speed limits, and vast expanses of undeveloped land. Awesome. I have great stories about those states. Maybe one day I'll heed the call of "Go West Young Woman" and I'll be back in the land of the cowboy and cowgirl. Of course, I'd have to get used to running at that elevation again -- 8,000 feet can be a bitch on the lungs.