(Edited for dumb title and content, though it's still a dumb title)
The last two days have been terribly sad. I just couldn't seem to pull myself out of the funk I was in. My mom's birthday hit me much harder than I expected. I am generally a pretty cheerful, the glass is half full kind of girl, but I spent Wednesday and Thursday overwhelmed with grief and I was hardly able to get out of bed. Craig has been amazing through all of this, and thanks to him, I'm back to myself today. I admit this because I think it's important to allow ourselves to be sad. Sometimes we have to give in and have some time to regroup. I know enough about myself to realize that if I fall apart once in a while, I am better equipped to handle the tough stuff on a daily basis.
We're off to Flasher for the weekend. Flasher is a tiny town of about 250 people southwest of Mandan ND. It's kind of like going to a different planet (Craig calls it BFE). It's cowboys and country music (think Chris LeDoux and rodeos), rolling hills and jagged buttes - beautiful scenery. Prairie dogs, rattlesnakes, and of course, pheasants are abundant. Ranchers raise cattle, sheep, and horses. You won't find more hardworking or friendly people anywhere. And boy, does Flasher know how to party. The parties that I went to in high school consisted of big pick 'em up trucks with loud pipes. The beds of said trucks usually had an old couch in the bed and a cooler of beer. We'd drive out to the middle of a pasture, back the trucks up in a circle around a huge bonfire, and whoever had the best sound system would blast the tunes. If it was calving season, the ranch kids would usually leave temporarily to "check cattle." Ah, the memories. I'm sure we've all turned into sophisticated socialites by now, so there probably won't be any pasture parties. That's a sarcastic joke. I sure hope we do have a pasture party!