I've been feeling pretty great these days. I keep texting photos like this to my sister and she types back: "You are so loving your life right now.". She's right. And I know probably %80 percent of that is due to summer in Montana. You know when, like in a fourth grade history lesson, or a night when you're tripping out, you try to imagine what earth was like before people? Or maybe the covered wagon era? The image that always came to my mind during those moments is what, as I found later, Montana is like in the summer.
Fat blue skies with clouds like ships sailing past. Big green valleys. Purple mountains. Clear happy rivers.
This shit is unreal.
Within the neighborhoods it's downright Mayberry. Sprinklers, ch, ch, ch-ing. Green lawns that smell super grassy. Empty streets. Long evenings. Elderly people in shorts.
I also had a perfect birthday. I made seven potent wishes by throwing rocks in my beloved river. These wishes, man I tell you, they had thirty-seven years of clarity in them. Plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop. Grin.
Also, with the first glance down at my feet, in a spot I've stood one thousand times before, found this:
There are heartrocks and then there are heartrocks. This one is perfect on both sides. Happy Birthday to me.
Romy made me a cake. It was chocolate with chocolate chips, an apricot/peach filling, and dulce de leche frosting. YES. After we celebrated she piled a huge chunk into a giganto tub for me to take home and I ate some that night, even though I was full, because it was so good and it was my birthday.
For dinner Nathan, Echo and I biked downtown to the sushi restaurant. We ordered wine and huge platters of sashimi. Echo drew love notes to nature and ate whatever fish I put on her plate. That girl ate probably ten different types of fish, octopus, and roe. And the Universe was really smiling on me because it just so happened to be First Friday - the monthly art walk where people mill about stopping at galleries to view art, drink wine, and snag snacks, AND the windows of our restaurant were mirrored on the outside. Let me just tell you what this means: a parade of folks in their going-out wear traipsing past our window and touching up their hair, lighting cigarettes, and kissing. Serious people watching heaven.