On Monday my friend and I set out on a backpacking trek with the intention of camping at a beautiful lake, marked on the map about 3 miles in from the trail head.

While, (isn’t life just like this) the lake wasn’t there, or anywhere for that matter. After good naturedly wandering over the whole general area, down one path until it ended, then back tracking and heading down the other, circling around and finding ourselves back where we started, I begin to feel like I had gone down the rabbit hole. I laughed and laughed and we hiked another mile to another lake that did exist!

Now how can this be? How can a lake appear randomly on the map with a name and everything, and yet not exist. Or even stranger, disappear into thin air from the land, if it HAD been there when the map was made. Was this some kind of strange freaky human error? Well, when we got back to the car I thought I should check on MY map, and sure enough, their was the cute little non existent lake marked on a totally different map.

Anyway, a sore but happy 5 miles later, we dined on boxed Indian cuisine and chatted by a campfire, non the worse for wear.

I have to say that a nice juxtaposition to all of this was returning home-showering and changing into a luxurious and slightly fancy outfit and practicing a Vivaldi concerto. I know what he is going to do, he is totally predictable, but in a good way, and pretty much the lake will be exactly where he had marked it, musically speaking of course. Sparkling notes tumbled out of my cello, crisp and sweet and predictable.

Sometimes it is wonderful to have adventures, and sometimes having every note and bow stroke in order feels magical.

Back on the range (while not literally, sometimes it DOES feel that way, being in Montana and all!). Anyway, where was I, oh yeah, back on the range I have been living up the summer fun, AND managing to get syllabi written, plan tours, edit an audio journal, practice, clean up my desk and go to therapy. What a blast!! Somehow I just pretend that I am traveling in this fabulous place called Bozeman and what a riot the sudden changes in weather, the wild blooming roses and miles of mountains to climb. Yes, I am a visitor in the wild west! I am reminded of this every time I walk out the door and I STILL feel like someone is holding a hair dryer up to my mouth. Sometimes it is a hot hair dryer, sometimes on teh cold setting. but always dry. And the light here is blinding. Maybe I am just getting old, but sunglasses have become a necessity.
Today’s adventures included explaining the elegant bombasticness of Beethoven, and miraculously printing up the first draft of a syllabus, watching my fluffy dog try to escape the heat by scrambling under our porch, only to be pulled out fur completely covered in sticks and leaves (after Wes so diligently brushed her) and having homemade puttanesca pasta that I DIDN’T make!

I never thought I would return from “the office” to a husband listening to Dolly Parton and cooking Italian and feel so deeply happy. But there it is. I suppose the office part I could take or leave…but we are working on that!