Sheridan Trails

I've been pretty lame this winter. I've been working a lot and haven't really been able to enjoy many winter activities. Well yesterday, I changed that. My friend Jon was going sledding with his bud and invited me to go along. Sledding, I can sled. That's no problem. I love it! But sledding down a hill in town is completely different than sledding down a hill in the mountain. I didn't exactly realize there was much of a difference. Anyway, so Sunday rolls around and it ends up being Juice, Jon and I that go sledding. There was a mini snow storm the day before and the snow hadn't exactly stopped coming down yet. And it was also around -3 that morning. I wasn't exactly thrilled about going. But it was too late to bail on Jon. So I sucked it up and we made our way up to the mountain. The roads weren't ideal and Juice kept having mini freak-outs in the back seat (baby). We get to the hill in Granite Pass and I sort of die a little inside. This hill is like t

I'm house-sitting this week. And dog sitting. It's actually really fun. I get to pretend I own a dog again. Only this dog is mildly depressed because she thinks her parents have abandoned her. This makes for a mopey, sleepy dog that follows my every move. Or this may be the way she always acts. I'm not too sure. It is slightly annoying that every time I come out of the bathroom I run into said dog. Or that she basically sits on my lap when I finally decide to sit down. Or that when I get up to get a drink, she follows me into the very narrow kitchen. But I do like that when I take her for a walk, she doesn't go ape-shit when she sees a deer 2 feet away (I went ape-shit....it's embarrassing that the dog can compose herself around wild animals better than me). I also like that she is ridiculously excited to show me her new cow toy that makes the weirdest moo-squeak sound I have ever heard. It is also nice, that when I sit down, mind you this happens only about 20% of

As you know, I work at Starbuxx in town. Love my job. Love the people I work with. Love how quickly the day goes. However... I do not love some of the people that visit my work. For example, yesterday, it seemed like every single man that I have had an awkward situation with came into work. Fortunately I could hide from one. But only one. Most of you know me pretty well, and you know that I am not the most graceful person. I was not born with that wonderful quality. I have NO IDEA how to diffuse awkward situations. I just start rambling. And make things worse. MUCH MUCH WORSE. I get all nervous, and my sentences don't make sense, and I look like I have turrets syndrome. And my face gets all blotchy and red. It gets pretty bad. So I guess the message is, if I've ever completely humiliated myself in front of you, PLEASE for the love of God, do NOT come into Starbuxx when I am working. Thanks

For some unknown reason, Jorts have been the topic of many conversations lately. Jorts = Jean shorts. [GUEST NOTE: "Jorts” – a combination of the words “jean” and “shorts” – are used to describe the somewhat hideous attire often sported by NASCAR aficionados, Green Bay Packer fans, men over 40, and men who probably ought to be over 40. If you wear jorts, you probably have minimal relationships with women. Sometimes jorts are accessorized with a lovely cellphone belt clip and a braided leather belt, but not always, as sometimes the jorts-wearer lets the jorts speak for themselves.] I think it's because of the White Trash Birthday Bash that I recently had. Not saying that only 'white trash' wear jorts . . . just a lot of people that attended the party had them on. [GUEST NOTE: I can count the number of acquaintances I know whom habitually wear jean shorts on one finger. Although, I’m fairly certain this summer will bring more to light. HINT: Missouri.] I don'