AIR THAT NEEDS MORE OXYGEN

Finally! I'm on the internet.

So much to say.

I'm in the middle of nowhere. Literally. It's amazing. To get to the ranch you drive an hour plus out of Denver, then down a two lane deserted highway through the mountains and then another half hour down a one land dirty road that is so bumpy it buzzes up your spine with every curve.

It snows every night and I wake up each morning to the smell of bacon because I live in the kitchen bunk house. It's -10 degrees in the morning, not exaggerating, and by two every afternoon it's 50 degrees and I was walking around the ranch in a t-shirt. 

I look out my window to the sun rising over the mountains. It's spectacular here. How do I life without mountains?

Last night I walked outside and thought the stars were fake there were so many. It was so bright just from star light. and the air here is delicious. I just want to stand outside and breathe. Only problem: it needs more oxygen in it. The first couple days I had a MASSIVE headache and I'm still constantly yawning.

The main hill on the ranch is called Coronary Hill. This morning I was up at the top of the hill sweeping a porch of one of the cabins and I look down Coronary Hill and see Tony, the ranch foreman (who has probably the cutiest baby I've ever met. Her name's Becca and she's turning one of Thursday and lets anyone hold her and is always "talking" away.) waaaay down at the bottom. He looks about the height of my thumb to give you an idea how big this hill is. and I stop sweeping and the only sound I can here is Tony's footsteps. Clear as day I can hear them. and nothing else. Why do I live in the city again?

So it's spring cleaning time. Meaning Cleaning with a capital C. We walk into the building and pull everything off the walls and pile all the furniture in the middle of the room. "Nothing left untouched." We scrub the furniture. We scrub the walls. We scrub the bathrooms. We even scrub the ceilings. It's ridiculous. We scrub the radiators. We scrub the lambs. We scrub the closets. It's insane. But let me tell you when we're done there's never been anything so clean. It's ridiculously hard work. By the time bedtime comes around we crash. Normally around 9:30.

The cabin girls' van is called Mona. Picture a white kidnapping van. Now take out all the back seats. Take off all her sliding doors so there's a gapping hole in the side, beat her up a bit, and make her temperamental. That is Mona. She's amazing. She hauls us and all our gear up Coronary Hill multiple times a day and we only have to try starting her a minimum of twice. Most of the time we hang out the hole where the door should be or smash waaaay to many people in the front seat. She's a pretty sweet ride.

I've made friends with one of the ranch dogs. His name is Tex. He follows me everywhere. He's like my shadow. He carries around a stick and is always wanting me to play fetch with him. When I'm inside a cabin cleaning he sits on the front porch and whenever he sees me pass by the window he sits up and gives me a sad puppy dog face saying, why wouldn't you let me in too? He doesn't understand that dog hair doesn't help us in our cleaning.

The ranch has over a hundred horses. Six of them are pregnant and our due in April. I get to see foals being born!

Our first guests come on Valentine's Day. I'm excited. But for now I'm cleaning cabins through Thursday. And after that we ahve a bunch of orientation stuff and riding!

Anybody watch the Superbowl yesterday?!?!?!? The staff went up to the top of Coronary Hill to Tony and Brooke (Tony's wife/Becca's mother) House, a doublewide, and smashed all 25+ of us in for a superbowl party. That forth quarter was pretty sweet. I wonder what Tom Brady did that night.

It's past bedtime here. Actually everyone right now is up in the Roundup Room watching a cowboy movie, Open Range. It's just now ending. Don't watch it. It's awful. But it's funny because I'm on a ranch, watching a cowboy movie, surrounded by actual wranglers (Mike right now is trying to read over my shoulder. He says he's not a wrangler. He does maintenance. Oh but now Peter is chiming in saying he IS a wrangler. whatever.) in a room that's hardcore Western style decor and if I stuck my head out the West window I can guarantee you I'd get a whiff of manure. Yes! My favorite!