A Montana Wedding

(And no, it's not my Montana wedding, silly!)

If you feel like getting married, I recommend doing it in a place like this:

(Outside Bozeman, Montana)

Make sure you include flowers like this:

(Pretty, aren't they? That blue sky is a good idea too, but what do you expect in Big Sky country?)

And don't forget the importance of dessert:

(Yum.)

With toppings:

(Yummier still.)

Also, be sure to have a lot of aunts and uncles there who all love taking fabulous photos on their cameras that are much superior to yours. Then you don't have to take any and can instead spend your time (1) applauding the happy couple (2) drinking wine (3) eating cheesecake.

Congrats Cousin J!

(And yes, I do have some pictures of the lovely bride and groom, but I've made it a policy to minimize people photos in case I—or anyone I know—ever has to enter the witness protection program. I'd hate for my blog to have to disappear with me!)

Cowboy Boots

As a little girl, I rode horses. We even had a few horses of our own over the years—Rose, the sweet mare who spent her fair share of time in arenas with the steers and cowboys; Brownie, our precious pony (who, unfortunately, lived a short life); and my very own horse, Too Classy Gypsy, who had a beautiful painted baby I named Way Too Classy.

I even participated in a few rodeos—barrel racing and pole bending with the other kids—and rode in a coupla cattle drives in my day.

But I refused to wear cowboy boots.

Time out. That's not completely accurate. For a short time I coveted—and eventually received—a pair of bright red lace-up boots. They were all the rage then and I just had to have a pair. Of course, after I wore them about two times I realized cowboy boots—even shiny new red lace-ups—weren't my thing. So they sat in the garage after that and I went back to wearing my sneakers when I rode.

And, other than that, I refused to wear cowboy boots.

So why are these on my feet?


Because when I went back to Montana last month for my grandfather's memorial service, I realized as we were wandering around downtown that I needed them. Or, at least, a pair of cowboy boots to wear with my dress to the memorial service. (It was at the fair grounds, people. It was necessary.) And so off we went to Don's Western Wear (where else would you get cowboy boots?) to find a pair. And find them we did. These beauties right here, which are actually kids' boots in case you're wondering.

Man oh man were they a hit. And Auntie S even gave My Sister her old shit kickers (pardon my language, but that's what they're called!) so she could look the part too.

Now, roughly 20 years after those red lace-up boots, I've finally warmed to the idea of cowboy boots. And I'm just itching to wear these again. Maybe to Cousin J's wedding next weekend in Montana? Yes. Then again, maybe out to dinner in L-Town sometime soon too. Why not?

Dispatches from Montana (Part II)

Now, day two in good ol' Lewistown, Montana was a busy one. But it finished in Montana style—with a trip down Main Street to check out a few of the highlights. Among them: Montana Tavern.

There isn't anything particularly exciting about Montana Tavern—it's just your average Montana bar. Wood paneling, fish on the walls, classic artwork of the Old West.

Or is it just your average Montana bar? If so, then what the heck is this crowd looking at?

Something you won't find anywhere else in Central Montana–it's a box that allows you to gaze down at what's below the bar: Spring Creek. Yep, that's right. You can see fish swimming around in the creek while your drink your Coors Original (that is what you're drinking here, right?).


Another little-known fact? Lewistown produces some pretty fabulous drinking water, bottled straight from the spring. In case you were wondering.

I made sure to fill up my water bottle with that delicious water before I left town. And then, once it was time to leave, I sat back and said goodbye to Lewistown.