June 8, 2008

The Plural for Goose is Geese The Plural for Moose is _______

        It's funny how dirty dishes follow me wherever I go. I guess there's no escaping some things...

        It's been a great 24+ hours here in Basin. Saturday night I saw Cynthia (the jazz musician who lives next to me in the Dyott) and we started talking. Out of no where she asked "Hey do you wanna go look for moose?" And of course I did. She instructed me to quickly get bundled up, and while I was piling on the layers (it was 30 degrees out) I heard a weird gurgle coming from the toilet. I didn't think much of it until I walked out and Cynthia was pointing to a pipe outside of her apartment that was gushing water. She called M.J. and Rhandi, the owners, and they quickly came over and surveyed the situation. M. J. told us not to use any water and they'd be getting a plumber a.s.a.p. I thought it was nice how quickly they responded to the situation.
        But it didn't matter that much because soon we were headed into moose country. Cynthia drove her Honda Accord (she has a floating-bobble-head squirrel affixed to the dashboard and now I want one worse than anything) down the highway a few miles and we came to a dirt road where a ranch was situated in a valley. It was really gorgeous country. We drove back quite a bit and saw some deer along the way. Cynthia said they were whitetails but they looked different than the deer I'm used to and I'm thinking maybe they were mule deer. Not sure exactly. Anyway we got out at a turnaround spot and she said this is a favorite moose grazing spot. We stood around for a while looking through binoculars while it quickly became too dark. At this point it was snowing and blowing quite a bit and she's apologizing for taking me out all this way in the freezing cold snowstorm and not even seeing any moose. Meanwhile I'm just thinking how great it is to be in a snow storm on June 7....

Bunny Hugger? Seriously?

        This morning I got up and did something kinda brave: I got a shower, shaved and went to the only church in Basin, a small, white, steepled structure at the edge of town. I say brave because I had no idea what to expect.
        What I found was a handful of faithfuls (I'm talking maybe a total of 12 people including myself) and a friendly white haired old pastor who prayed the most poetic prayers I have ever heard. I felt like taking notes. Seriously. I was both fascinated and deeply moved. Afterwards I was invited by the pastor's wife to have lunch at their house. I gladly accepted. Their grandson (whose name is also Scott) drove me up to their house in his old 70's Ford pickup. He had an ice hockey puck sitting on the dashboard and I asked him if he played hockey. "Street hockey" he said "but my brother and I are both huge Red Wings fans." Oh the irony! I can't even go to Montana and escape the Red Wings! So we had some good hockey talk on the way up.
        At lunch I got to know the pastor and his family a little bit, great people, and also a little more about the town. A guy named Forest was there and he was doing a little spouting of conservative politics and using the pejorative term "bunny-hugger" quite a bit. I've never heard that before. Tree-hugger yes, but bunny-hugger? I didn't really want to get into it with him and it seemed no one else did either.

Potlucky

        So after lunch I scrambled to make a big spinach salad before the potluck dinner thrown by a woman named Joanie. The purpose was for the artists to mingle with the MAR supporters and with each other. Apples, almonds and baby spinach-- that was it. Kind of all I had to offer to be honest, but my bowl was returned empty before the party was even over.
        Anyway, the dinner was great. Great food. Awesome people, all friendly and curious about what I was up to at the refuge. I answered a lot of the same questions over and over but I didn't really mind. I really felt at home with these people. I guess I always do around artists, writers, and musicians.
        Getting to know the other resident artists was great too. Sandra, who also lives in the Dyott building, is a watercolorist from Harrisburg. She used to work as a graphic designer in Pittsburgh. So we had a lot of common ground in those things. Jane, the multimediast extraordinaire who lives in the first floor of the Hewitt, seems to be such a wise/crazy old soul and I wish we'd gotten to talk more.
        Tonya and Nicole are two musicians who collectively form the band "The Jilted Brides." Killer name, right? They're from Australia, complete with accents and everything. We got to talking and they want to take a trip up to Glacier National Park to hike around and do some photo shoots. I'm totally down for this, or "keen" as they say. They also shorten all multiple syllable words (so for instance it's doco instead of documentary) and add and extra syllable to monosyllable words (so I'm Scott-ee not Scott). Nicole lent me one of their CD's and I'm looking forward to listening to it.
        I feel so lucky to be in this place surrounded by these people...