Thursday, July 31, 2014

Cosmic Goats, Tires, and How to Get Mail as a Hobo


Every ten minutes I check the tracking number for our tires.  In between hitting the "refresh" button, I read Steinbeck's To the God Unknown.  If you ever want to feel good and uncomfortable, read a Steinbeck novel.  All this talk of cosmic goats makes me want to wallop the characters on the backside in the hopes of knocking some sense into them.  I always want to drink more water when I read Steinbeck.  In the end, the land always turns brown and dusty and everybody dies.

I want to read about lush green forests and people that live happily ever after.  But not live ever after.  Because then I would be reading a Twilight novel.

Refresh.  

Oh good! The tires arrived!

Mail is a major pain in this nomadic lifestyle.  Packages can be sent to a local post office for "general delivery" unless they were't originally shipped from the US postal service.  So let's say you buy something from Amazon and have it shipped to:

YOUR NAME
GENERAL DELIVERY
YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK, WY 82190

Amazon will send that package through UPS, which doesn't trust the post office enough to leave your package with them, and your package will wind up in Bozeman, Montana, which you will waste an entire day driving to.  

Long story short, you had better find a residential or business address to have your Amazon stuff shipped to.

Enter Amanda and Ryan.

We met them at the church in Kalispell and they graciously allowed us to ship about a bizillion packages to their address, including four tires and a tent.

Hubs hops in the car and drives very slowly to their address, loads all of our boxes in the car, and drives very slowly to the tire shop where they install our tires.  

Oh happy day!  

I made our last four eggs for brunch, which we split, so we are both ravenously hungry by the time the tires are on.  Hubs brings back a rotisserie chicken and rolls and I think it is the single best meal of my entire life.  

We both take solar showers in the great outdoors as a thunderhead approaches.  It has been a week since our last shower (we didn't have enough water for that) and it comes not a moment too soon.  I always feel more aerodynamic after a much-needed shower.  Like the air glides around me better.  Or maybe my skin can just breathe now after a week of encrustitude.  

I'm not a scummy person, really. At least I didn't used to be.  In former days, I took a bath or shower at least once a day, and sometimes up to three if I was cold.  

To sleep, perchance to dream. of a bath.

Tomorrow we get off this dadgum mountain.

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