Deep Fried Twinkies.

greetings from Bozeman, Montana.

unbelievably, after all the packing, the hauling, the cleaning, more cleaning, the small construction projects, the expensive improvements, and more cleaning and painting, we got out of Seattle yesterday morning around 9:30. just in time, too. the renters moved in at noon. whee.

we took turns melting down in the car while leaving (general not wanting to go away from Seattle), and by the time we reached the first of yesterday's many mountain passes, exhilaration at the coming adventure plus relief that we were actually finally done and leaving took over. the weather was lovely, and the scenery equally so.

Eva somehow convinced me to stop in Kellogg, Idaho (home of the white supremacists, she said, "but really a lovely town."). i was starving and exhausted, and therefore much more likely to be convinced to do something moronic like stop somewhere like that. what we found was a diner off of I-90 called sam's, which i have to say was pretty great. it was half an old-fashioned drive-in, half a diner, but the drive-in part was closed. the manager was an old stone butch, cigarette-smoking and order-barking, who recognized us as likeminded in the parking lot and chatted with me for a while. (although i admit i had a moment in which i was afraid she was a spy for the neo-nazis, and would soon disappear to return with skinheads to do us in).

the sign behind the counter at the diner listed DESERTS, with one S, and the first thing on the list was a deep-fried twinkie (i swear i will take my camera into every one of these places from now on). this supposed delectable caught the attention of my medical professional girlfriend, who has regretted passing up the thing since we pulled back onto the highway after eating. she talked about twinkies and hostess cupcakes and various nasty treats all the way to Bozeman, finally leading me on a wild-goose chase looking for a dairy queen here before we gave up the ghost on vile sweets and collapsed in the hotel.

i dreamt everyone at Starbucks was involved in incestuous affairs (no one from prepress, tho, just so you all know). some of the players involved in the mess were people i didn't know, but some of them were. there was a lot of drama. dan smith and his ponytail had some role in this, but it isn't clear in my memory. i was exhausted the entire length of the dream and just wanted to go home, but couldn't. work processing and life processing all at once.

alright, got to do some yoga before folding myself back into the car. pictures on the next post, i promise.

H