“Hey coach,” my friend said with a fucking smirk on her face. I was making my way to the main office after fixing a potentially expensive error on one of the school’s servers, so I was feeling both relieved and stressed when I saw her, and I rolled my eyes and smiled. “You’ll do good,” she said, and right on cue, the group of middle school boys began walking down the hall and toward the cafeteria. It was lunch time, but what I needed was an ice cold beer, but seeing these kids again and even my friends was enough of a salve for my frayed nerves.

The night before, the school board hired me to be the assistant middle school football coach. I have never coached anything in my life, but last month I mentioned it somewhat offhandedly that I wanted to coach something during this upcoming school year, and I believe that once I put something out into the Universe, the Universe listens and answers back. I’m now a football coach and first practice is on Monday.

I have no idea what I’m doing, but I believe I’ll have fun. And when the people around me tell me that I’ll do a good job, I have to listen and believe them, right? So let’s go.

Last night, a severe storm with winds that raged up to 109mph hit my corner of Montana, knocking out power and damaging whatever got in its way. I woke up in the middle of the night with no power and the strong winds rattling my doors and windows. If this heatwave wasn’t enough, now we have to worry about hurricane level winds? Jeesh.

I woke up at 1:30am and I wasn’t able to get back to sleep before I had to get going with my day. Fortunately, power returned to my small town, so I was able to stop by my favorite coffee shop before I headed to work. This shop sells some funny stickers, and here are a few I liked that I sent to my friend on Snapchat. Both hit home today.

Admired the reddish skies this morning while I waited for my friend to pick me up before work. According to the weather forecast, today should be the last day temperature gauges hit anything above 90° for the next week, and I welcome any relief from the heat, even if the highs will still be in the 80s. Not having my car has been inconvenient, but relief is only a few days away, and I can’t wait. In the meantime, I’ve been learning more about alternators and enjoying some good baseball games.

On my way home from work on Friday, I saw the battery light on my dash turn on. My car drove fine, so I drove it home. I later did some research on what it could mean and what I could do. On Saturday, I removed the battery cover and checked the wires, making sure nothing looked frayed, and I checked the battery connectors, making sure those didn’t look corroded or anything. Everything looked fine, at least to my untrained eyes. I drove to work on Monday with the light on, and I drove back home after work with the light on, and everything seemed fine. This morning I took my car into Les Schwab and asked them to test my battery. They told me my battery was fine.

My alternator, though, wasn’t.

I had planned to leave on my road trip at the end of next week, and the soonest I can take my car into the shop is this coming Monday. I’m hopeful everything will turn out fine, that I’ll get my alternator replaced, that I can take my car on a planned 3,500 to 4,000 mile road trip next week, but there’s always that little buzzing at the back of my head when something like this happens, when the Universe looks at my plans and just laughs. I’m grateful I have good friends that have answered my pleas for help. I had to take work off today, but a friend of mine will be able to drive me to work this week, and I am forever grateful for her help.

For now, my beloved Jeep will sit quietly in the lot until Monday, and all I can do is hope for the best.

I first met Rickisha Bear ten years ago. She was a 5th grader at my school district, and I remember how outgoing and funny she was even at that young age. She was not afraid to joke around with someone a few decades older than her, and I loved joking with her back. She transferred to another school during her 6th grade year, and sadly, I didn’t really think of her much after that. Kids come and go at the school, and I tend to forget about people when they’re out of sight.

Rickisha went missing five months ago, and I first heard about it on Facebook when a former teacher of hers posted about it. I shared her story to my Facebook feed and hoped for the best. The history of missing indigenous women is not a good one, and I didn’t want to lose hope that Kisha was still alive somewhere out there… but again, out of sight, out of mind (I hate that I’m admitting this, but goddammit it’s the truth and the truth fucking sucks sometimes).

I went to the laundromat to do laundry this morning, and right there on the bulletin board I saw her face again. “Bring Kisha Home!” I felt sad and guilty and simply heartbroken that she is still missing. She recently turned 20 years old, and… fuck. I don’t know. If anyone reading this has seen or heard from her, please send a message to this email or call or text (406) 604-2423. Bring Kisha home. Please.

Last weekend, I went to my first rodeo with my friend, and I had a blast. I had no idea what to expect, and I admit, I felt out of place, but my friend made me feel welcome. She walked me through the rules and strategies for each event, and the more I understood, the more I began to appreciate the rodeo and the entire culture and enthusiasm surrounding it. Rodeo’s are a big part of people’s lives where I live, amongst all my friends, and I, in hindsight, feel disappointed that it took me so long to enter this world.

A few things struck me the most. The first was how violent some of these events could be. The second was how young many of the participants were. There was one moment when a boy no older than twelve fell off his horse and hit his head on the ground, knocking him out for a solid ten minutes. There was a hush in the crowd as we watched the EMTs huddle around him and do what they needed to do to help. They strapped him to a gurney and carried him away, but one of the cowboys told the crowd that he heard the boy say he was okay and that brought a relieved crowd to cheer and clap. And the show went on.

One of my favorite events was the barrel race. These were fast and fun and I loved seeing these skilled people ride their horses with such command and grace. I’m hooked.

Earlier this month, I woke up at around 2am and when I couldn’t fall back to sleep, I grabbed my camera and drove around. I pulled off at a place I had driven by a million times before but never stopped to explore. The sun was beginning to rise as I walked the dirt path and listened to the birds and the insects and the quiet, and I snapped a few shots of the sunrise, then I drove to the reservoir and snapped photos of the geese and ducks swimming on the water, and I stood there a moment and watched the sky change colors and the birds fly away from me and I thought, Wow. I loved every moment of this brief excursion, and I was happy.

Earlier this week, I went on a hike early in the morning, and I had my camera in hand as I snapped photos of the trees and the talus and the mountain peaks, and I broke a sweat as the slope steepened and the extra water in my pack began to feel heavy, and I talked to myself as I ascended the mountain and swore there was a squirrel or a sparrow stalking me in the trees as I hiked the trail, and I imagined getting mauled by a bear because I saw bear scat on the trail on my way down from the hike that I swear I didn’t see on my way up and I, of course, didn’t have bear spray on me so I made my peace with the Universe and savored every moment of whatever life I had left, and when I saw my Jeep I felt a tinge of disappointment that I didn’t get to see a bear. I took my boots off and changed into my sneakers, and I sat in the front seat with the AC at full blast and I felt my sweat dry on my face, on my glasses, and my back was throbbing, and yet, I still thought, Wow, I loved every minute of this hike, and I was happy.

Last night, I had dinner with a friend I had known for many years but had never asked out before. We were actually supposed to meet last week but since she couldn’t find a babysitter, she had to postpone by a week, and that was okay. We sat at the bar and I ordered a Cold Smoke and some street tacos while she ordered some multi-ingredient science experiment that I think had pineapple juice and Sprite and a plate of clams that reminded me of the ocean, and we talked about work and baseball and ourselves, and I asked questions and she asked questions and there wasn’t a lull in the conversation, and we smiled and laughed and when our meal was over, we walked outside and marveled at the beautiful Montana sunset and I lamented that I’ve spent all this money on my photography gear and I didn’t have any of it on me at that moment. She laughed, we hugged, and as I drove back home, I thought, Wow. When I got home, I saw that she sent me a message, and I read it and smiled, and after a few back and forth messages, we settled on hanging out again next week. There’s a rodeo, she said. Let’s do it, I said. Thinking of that makes me happy.

This has been a good summer.