It's nice and windy outside - but the sun is shining brightly, and it's not too cold. Lovey and Nedi are chasing leaves around the back yard, along with an occasional squirrel. Lovey's check-up was fantastic, but the vet was surprised when I told him about the swelling she had 24 hours after I took her home - he said he wished I had called him, as he would have liked to examine her. However, since the swelling decreased and she is definitely back to her usual self, he said not to worry. She did have a small piece of suture that hadn't completely dissolved yet in her gums, but was not going to allow either Dr. Russell or me to remove it with tweezers... So I came back home with a light heart.
I like to drive. I love being on a road that I haven't travelled before, and just seeing what lies on either side of the pavement, and where the road leads. After I got Lovey back home yesterday, I took the Rav4 out, and pointed it north. I've lived in Boulder for 9 years now, and I hadn't been to Wyoming, which is a 90-minute drive. I had a blast - even though I was on a road that millions have driven before me, it was something new for me to view. I took no maps, just followed my own whims, and I ended up in Cheyenne, in the Pioneer District, that was built in the 1880s. I got to see where the Transcontinental Railway was first laid - and got to visit banks and hotels and bars and stores that have been in the same location since the town was incorporated. The museum was really great, too, with the history of the town, the railroads, and the Cheyenne Rodeo. I had a blast.
And I was able to see wide open spaces. Growing up a suburban kid in Florida and on the island in Virginia, I never got used to tall buildings, narrow streets, and restricted views. True, in Florida the view was restricted by woods of slash pine and pin oaks, and on Chincoteague and Assateague there were wooded areas, but one could always see a horizon, or hear the sea. I still feel restricted in Boulder because of the mountains to the west; at least I've gotten over the feeling that they are going to fall over on top of me and squash me flat... and I know that open country continues on the other side of the mountains, but sometimes my subconscious just doesn't want to handle that. In any event, driving through the countryside yesterday you could see folds in the hills, dips in the ground, a few limestone formations, draws, stream beds - and I just wanted to be in the saddle of a good horse so I could explore that expanse, and see what was lying behind that hill... It's a really odd sensation, but I felt free yesterday, and I'm sure that if I had been able to mount a horse and just ride away in any direction that my heart would have burst with a joyous feeling of complete freedom... I said that to a friend this morning, and she just looked at me; then she finally said, "Where? In Wyoming? But there's nothing there!" But to me, there is - the feeling of being out with your horse, seeing and exploring places for the first time. For me, that's the best feeling in the entire world.
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