Blogging NYC: Wait.

I'm not quite in New York yet. I'm in Montana for our giant family reunion--not just extended, but 2nd and 3rd and twice-removed relations. It's called Elyfest, after my Great-grandparents on my mom's mom's side. The reunion is at the beautiful, old-fashioned farm where my grandmother and mother grew up: Teton Dairy.

 The farm.

The spigot. (What do you mean, you don't have one?)

There are about 150 of us here, filling three houses, three campers, two bunkhouses, a few hotel rooms, and a tent. Before everyone arrived, we spent the first few days sweeping, sorting, cleaning, polishing, wiping, dusting, mopping, hosing, boxing, (gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking) and burning to get ready for all the extra people. This was good, because there's not actually all that much else to do here...until everyone arrives! Then the party starts.
We play on the swing-sets.

 My second-cousin, Shaea.

All the little'uns.

We talk and hang out and ride horses. We play with the dogs--there are five here. Booger, Chevy, Emma, Ginger, and Bentley (the cutest little hound dog puppy who trips over his ears when he runs.)

Cousins Terry and McCann and anonymous other small relative.

We eat a lot of good food ("Out here, down-home-hearty-cooking is one word.) Sometimes we even sleep.

Klyde and Terry after a long day of hard playing.

On Saturday, we started off the morning with a traditional game of Rock Picking, an accepted form of entertainment here in the hinterlands.

A second-cousin who's name I forget, with my cousin Jesse in the background.

I'm just kidding. We did go out to the Drylands (grazing area) and "pick rocks," but it was for good reason. We need to build a well. Or dyke. Or something. Anyway, it requires lots of rocks. So at 8:00 am we loaded up the pickups and started off. We got five truckloads of rocks that morning.

Second-cousins Tenny and EB. Awesome truck.

The product of our labors.

The long grasses and wildflowers naturally manifested themselves in the crowning of many Prairie Princesses and Mountain Maidens.

Second-cousin Laura.

Then, because digging up boulders doesn't really count as exercise, we went on a six-mile roundtrip hike. It was long and difficult, we did our fair amount of bushwacking, and I got sunburnt (surprise!) but it was entirely worth it. We hiked up a trail, and then a canyon, to get to a beautiful waterfall. This involved lots of trying not to get wet, which was proved pointless when we all hopped into the ice-melt shower at the end.

I'm going to go on a quick but relevant tangent here. Did you know I'm related to a superhero? It's true. This is my first-cousin-once-removed-but-really-he's-more-of-an-uncle Brian.

He looks perfectly fine, right? Right. But he shouldn't be. Just a few months ago, he was thrown from his sixty-foot-high cherry picker while trimming a tree, and landed on the edge of a cement planter, breaking (not surprisingly) pretty much every bone in his body. He was in a coma for days. We didn't know if he would live. He didn't just survive, though. By all rights he should be recuperating in bed with a nice Western and a cup of chamomile tea. Instead, he's remodeling a house. He hauled stones with the best of us, and walked every inch of our six-mile hike. Plus he's a national-champion ballroom dancer, and basically the nicest person you'll ever meet. Ever.
When we got back, we built a dance floor. (We're cool like that.) And then we danced. And danced and danced and danced until after midnight.

May I just say that I love my family?