Ok.  Ok.  I know.  There is one blog entry.  Only one -- made way back in March.  I'm here in Wyoming.  This is home.  Where I grew up, home.  Where my large, wild family lives, home.  This is roots home and everything in me settles in and feels right when I'm here.  I arrived at 8:00pm on a little plane with my son just as the clouds parted following a rain storm.  A vivid rainbow was forming against the retreating grey-purple clouds.  The gold of the low sun shining off of the wet roads, and the smell of wet sage brush was so heavy and thick in the air I nearly had to just sit down on the tarmac outside the plane.  There's nothing like that smell, and it reached back through my whole life to my littlest self as I watched my four year old son wonder at it... and at me pulling the air into my body through my nose by cubic yards. In the five days that we've been here, we've caught a cold, hit a cousin's birthday party (where we couldn't swim after all due to the poop that was accidentally deposited in it earlier, but which turned out not to be ruined in spite of first impressions) gone camping with my 90 year old grandmother who is quite remarkable, been fishing, skipped a jillion rocks (pretty well I have to say), "crossed the river twice on foot!" (as Patrick put it), hung a twenty five foot high (perhaps higher) "cyclone swing" in Granna and Granddad's front yard, and have wound up with a very sore right arm (the rock skipping).  Oh yes, and saw Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince.  Been a bit on the go.

Looking forward to teaching in the morning, and taking my folks and my little guy to the carnival in the afternoon, so I must sleep now.  That's my highly parenthetical blog entry #2.  It's good to be home.