Heh, I know those guys: Sister Hope and nephew Will ride in the Stampede parade in Helena. And you can tell that Will, who’s 8 1/2, is going to be as tall as his dad, Matt. And three cheers for these two horses: It was their first trip to town and, as Hope said, their …
Housekeeping for me includes trimming Cooper’s tail feathers and seeing how many times I can trip myself with an electrical cord. Too scratchy from work to read. Did open up Remnick on Putin and the Ukraine at lunch, but my first experience with reading The New Yorker on an iPad made me want to hold …
Raced home from work to greet these rumbling cells, barreling in from the west. Windows open now, up in the hills, to the smell of rain. Quiet but for thunder rolling north. For the moment, whatever else happened today doesn’t matter. Precursor to the monsoons, maybe. Seems like those come from the southeast. Cooper not …
Random notes from an unfocused weekend: Saturday, June 28 — Realized the last ding I put in my que-macho four-wheel-drive truck was in the prescription drive-up lane at Walgreens. — In a still mostly poor town, was the only customer in a shop whose offerings included $72-a-pound coffee. — Crunchy dry underfoot on evening …
Dreamranch, which I prefer to write lowercase, is mostly anecdotal and totally unscientific, except in cases where it cites true experts, like the Journal’s John Fleck, on matters such as water. It is part of my lifelong effort to be humorous. Of course, the bluebird often gets shot down, and that’s here, too. But overall, …
Once upon a time in the Southwest, there was water. And my dogs, Sadie and Molly, loved it. They were lucky dogs. A stream below our house in Placitas ran year-around. They could get wet and cool off there. But we would take trips to the mountains to find water this clear and cold.
Sign that I am slipping into vacation: I started thinking again about this Hemingway sentence. “Big-Two Hearted River” is my favorite short story and the construction and effect of this sentence has fascinated me for years. It floats into my head whenever I’m able to escape the newspaper grind, and not just because I have …
First day of vacation at home a work and neighbor-related wreck. Shooting for clearing my head today. But only a newspaper guy involved with politics, hobbled by the election calendar, would choose to take time off in mid-June. My tri-color but mostly black “Aussie X” guy gets hot to the touch after moments in the …
Must have been some thunder while I was out: Signs that poor Cooper took shelter in the (cold) fireplace.
Here’s what 29 years of sobriety, nearly 65 years of age, 40 years in the newspaper business and rare indulgence in spicy, fatty foods will do to you: I succumb to a pizza craving, which results in a fitful night of Fellini-esque dreams, ending with an ethics discussion with an investigative columnist, somehow involving fistfuls …
dreamranch 