Well, it's official. Once again I've become a full-time resident of Whitefish, Montana, moving my various tupper wares and boxes and crates into yet another questionably functional domicile. It's funny how many things you don't really notice about a house until you spend some time in it. Such as, "wow, there aren't any lights in this living room", and "huh, there's nowhere to hang my towel in this bathroom". These shortcomings are easily remedied with trips to the local thrift stores and some elbow grease, but none of that really matters when the house in question is a tomato-throw away from the down town area. The post office is one block west, the library an eight minute walk away, and I can see the Snow bus stop from my kitchen window. You can't judge a book by its cover, and you can't judge this place by its peeling paint or the toilet on the doorstep (which has since been removed). I'll be sharing the space with two roommates: my newly-graduated sister Sarah, joining the ranks of the gainfully-unemployed twenty-somethings, and my college friend Alyssa, farmer and horse-whisperer extraordinaire. This is a pretty quiet time of the year in northwestern Montana (unless you're skulking around the woods trying to murder fuzzy forest creatures, of course). There's no snow, no tourists, and therefore not much work for those of us in the seasonal sector. We're biding our time and counting our nickels. In another month things will be gearing up for the holidays, but in the meantime I'm reading lots of books (just devoured English Creek by Ivan Doig and highly recommend it), finally putting pompoms on all those half-finished hats, and looking forward to spending Thanksgiving in Portland with my family. So happy autumn, and let's all do a snow dance until we're blue in the face!
