Kagy Avenue

We live right off this street. I have no idea how to pronounce it and I feel like a dork asking.

We're in unknown territory here, a raw, insecure and seductive place to be. Mornings find us fortified and ready to explore but by the late evening when sleepiness sets in and our guards are down, there are tears. Tears over missed friends and the foreign-ness of this house, this town, the people. Of everything.

The quiet night renews our bravery.

Will, Bill, Audi, me, Zoey, Ella, Stella, and Maya

After Audi left on Sunday, I decided to console myself by investigating the rock climbing gym in town. Climbing is so hard for me both physically and mentally that there's no space for inner dialogue or distraction, which is why I love it. Maybe when I get really good I'll be able to wander off in thought, but I hope not. It exhausts me in the best way. Except for Sunday, when I couldn't get over my pouting about the spartan facilities here to tap into the magic. I missed Mission Cliffs and climbing with the Nolans.

Oh, and why don't they have such an extensive climbing facility here? Because you can get to world-class outdoor climbs in a matter of minutes.

Right.

Time to get outside. That's why we're here.


The trail system in Bozeman is 25 miles long and brings you from Main street to the mountains. Stella and I decided to explore. We rode by communal gardens, art, ducks, a creek, a big climbing rock, and tons of lilacs. This whole town smells just like my nana.

 We rode to Main street, (about two miles from our house,) got my tire fixed at the shop underneath this horse and ate lunch at the Co-op.

Biking has a side benefit, which is that it saves you from the ridicule of riding around in a car with California plates. On our second day in town, someone yelled at Chris, 'better change your license plates quick!'  The sentiment was not unique to that gentleman, though the forwardness was, (thus far.)
We'll be keeping our plates.



By the way, did I mention that our neighbor founded the Bozeman Tea Party? Our landlords suspected he'd never talk to us once he found out we were from California, but apparently the girls won him over because he was super nice to me and very generous: "I have a 17-year old daughter who could be of some use to you."

We concluded the day with a baking fest and a late dinner in the park behind our house. Fresh bread, homemade pizza sauce, and a pile of cookies were concocted while listening to some numbingly loud pop music. Somehow the Moldy Peaches 'Lucky Number Nine' song hit the spot with it's lyrics,
Hey, I'm starting to feel okay... (Meanwhile, I dedicate their rendition of Little Bunny Foo Foo to my bro. You know you love it.) Following a tip, I made another go of the New Pornographers. Their hyper-pop style turned me off initially, but their easiness suited me tonight. Maybe I just liked them more because I found out they are Canadian and I'm such a Canadaphile, or maybe it's because I finally looked up some of their lyrics so I now actually know what they're singing. Mystery Hours sounds great and has me wondering.

Dinner in the warm evening sun

We met the family behind this fence; they have two daughters Z and Stella's ages who like to get messy and run free, six chickens, and a camper. Hallelujah!

Apparently I cast a long shadow.