A family trip to a Wyoming horse ranch, during which I succumb to cliché and fall for a young cowboy:
August 9, 1995 Wednesday
11:00 pm Wyoming time
1:00 am Connecticut time
After dinner Jess and I went off to find HIM to say hi. We saw him by the pond and discussed methods of approaching our victim, who was fishing in high socks.
We walked in circles around the lake, then came up behind him and chickened out. We passed him and continued around the lake, jumping over streams and dark holes in the ground where water flowed.
Then we sat on a small wooden dock that lifted when you sat down, and discussed ways of winning his heart.
I could fall in the lake and he would save me, but I would pretend I wasn’t breathing so he would perform CPR!
We could lasso him over to us.
We could attach ourselves to the end of his fishing line.
Or we could do nothing, which is what we did.
We ran away when Maria and Stephanie started toward us. I thought we must have looked pretty cool. Especially if we ran really well. I’m glad I didn’t trip and fall on my face.
I have to go to bed now. It’s 11:30 and I’ll write the rest tomorrow. I’m not saying I have a crush on HIM. But he does have a great mouth!