Blogging NYC: The Land of the Icee

I'm alive! I really am--just hot and worn out from all the awesome things we're doing and busybusybusy. (Starts singing Sandra Boynton's busy song.)
Never fear, though. I shall blog about every tiny last thing we've been doing--with pictures!--even if it's only when I get home. These exciting blogs will feature, among other things (tantalizing hint time!) Harry Potter, Broadway, Aaron Burr the idiot (figure that one out, Students of Liberty), swimming pools, henna, Anne of Green Gables, picnics, statues, and animals. Some of the animals are named Terry and Klyde.
For now, in my limited time, I shall write about The Thing That Has Kept Us Going in This Mind-Boggling Heat: Icees.

Yes, my friends, Icees. It's hotter than Hades here, but there's a handy-dandy Icee cart at every corner of our Subway stop, as well as traveling up and down most major streets. Just one dollar and you have yourself a cupful of delicious, cool, wet, life-preserving slush. You would not believe the amount of money we've forked over for these in the last two weeks. It's hot here, people!
And more exciting news! An actual Icee just opened right around the corner from our house. Awesome, right? Now we can fetch our daily doses without even breaking a sweat! (I swear they're spiking the ice with something, because the things are addicting.)
And now that you've had your little glimpse into New York life, I really must fly!
Love to you all,

Big Sky Fourth of July

Quick catch-up post before we dive right into New York City.
I started Independence Day off right by waking up on my Colonial Days schedule: early in the morning. My first thought was honestly "This time back home, I'd be avoiding John Wolfe right about now." But I got out of my I-miss-Provo rut quickly enough and entirely enjoyed the day.
Small-town Fourths are...different. Home's not big, mind, but our celebrationsare huge. Here, not so much. And much more hick. (In a good way.)

We went to the parade in Choteau (pronounced Show-toe.)
Now this parade is no Macy's Thanksgiving extravaganza. It's not even Provo's Independence Celebration. Nope, this is the heart of Montana...which turns out to be really, really small. There are three main vehicles: Horses. Tractors (or combines.) And old cars. Mind you these old cars are not "Look at me and my vintage-ness," but rather "I haven't actually bought a new car since 1952." Endearing in an odd sort of way. The parade goes al the way through town, then turns around and comes back--it takes about 40 minutes total.

We then proceeded to the family picnic, where we ate sloppy joes, chips, Shasta soda (a 4th of July Gleason tradition) and THE BEST ICECREAM ON EARTH. Period. We make icecream parlor runs probably three times per trip. Sometimes more, but who's counting?

Then...the rodeo. Oh yes. Funny, thrilling, occasionally terrifying. If you've never been to one, you should probably get on it.

After that we were pretty exhausted so the day just kind of ran down into chatting, with fireworks in the evening. Huzzah for America!

One very important aspect of the vacation that I've neglected to mention: The Gleason Plague of 2011.
It struck on Saturday, July 2nd. By the 4th, 25 people were afflicted. Instead of Big Skies, this is what we all looked at for a few days:

At last count, we infected 50 out of the 150 in attenance at the reunion. It was pretty miserable for a while there.

I finish posting about Montana with this picture of my brother, just to remind you all that some things never change, even 600 miles from home, and this video, which really does sum up our entire trip, and our entire family.

We got into New York Saturday afternoon, no problems. (Luggage getting to the correct baggage claim is a greater miracle than planes flying.) I knew I was going to have a good trip when we stepped out of the airport and saw this facing us on a bus:

Sunday was quiet. We ate pancakes and watched Anne of Green Gables, which was lovely, until Lauren got here.
Today we went swimming, watched Despicable Me, ate macaroni and cheese, pineapple, and Icees, and went to Central Park. Tomorrow the fun really starts as we officially hit the town.
Cheers!

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?



Can't Wait

Most of you probably know that I'm leaving for New York in about a week to nanny for my aunt and uncle. They both work full-time, and their two little boys need some quality family time, so my cousin Lauren and I are heading over for a whole month of it. What you probably didn't know is that said boys are some of the cutest you will ever lay eyes on.

See? What did I tell you. Klyde is almost eight, and Terry is four. I can't can't can't wait, and you all should be jealous. (Which, of course, you already are.)
Oh, and the green-eyed demon in the background is not in fact the family poltergeist (or hurcrux, Miriam) but a very lovely and lovable cat by the name of Luna. I'm also excited to see her. Two days!