A Cry From the Wilderness in Yellowstone Park

I called my friend, Teresa, today to discuss my angst over living and working in Yellowstone National Park.  She was a little concerned with my bison poop fascination,  I explained that there is a lot of it and there's not much else going on right now. 

Teresa is always the one who tries to make me feel special.  We all need a friend like that.  She tells me that I am an extraordinary person living an ordinary life.  It's about time someone noticed that I should be in charge of the whole guacamole. 

Today, she went a little far, even for her.  She compared me to John the Baptist.  I guess he did say, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness."  O.K., that could be me here in Yellowstone.  Go on.  He wore clothing made of camel hair and ate locusts and wild honey.  I could get some clothing made out of bison hair, I'm sure and the employee dining room food could be made out of locusts.  It sure wasn't meat I had  today.

So far, I am little flattered that Teresa thinks I am a voice in the wilderness.  Not sure what I'm supposed to be saying.  Maybe that happens after a few more months.  I've only been here three weeks.  Not enough time to become mystic or sage.

You know, John the Baptist was beheaded for all of his great wisdom.  I'm thinking this wise person gig isn't so great if you end up with your head on a platter.  Teresa also said that I am a little tug boat that doesn't realize that I am leaving a big wake behind.  Isn't she cute?  Personally, I think she had a wee bit too much caffeine this morning. 

Actually, she was giving me a pep talk, and we laughed a lot, which I needed.  She thinks I should keep on going even if I'm chased by men with swords or my tug boat starts to sputter.  I think I will take her advice. 

So....here are the pics for the day.

The employee dining room at Snow Lodge.

Amazingly the picture makes it look nice.  Maybe it just looks worse with people.

My breakfast this morning. 

We don't get coffee cups.  Love that coffee in a glass.

This is where we inmates dump our trays.

It's really worse than this.  There are a couple of trash cans that you can't and don't want to see.  That's where all of the leftover stuff on your tray goes.

You empty your cups and stick them in the racks overhead where they drip on you before you can dash away.

There is an evil troll who runs the kitchen.  If you put your tray down crooked, she screams at  you from somewhere in the back.  Pretty frightening.

I did see Old Faithful go off today.

Stage one.

Stage two.

Lift off.










I got through work again without crying.  I kind of sort of knew what I was doing about half of the time.  I communicated with non English speaking people by waving my hands around and speaking very slowly.  At least I didn't speak louder. 

I got off work at 10:00 and felt like my legs were shoved up somewhere between my eyeballs.  Roomie and I limped back to the dorm without being attacked by bison.  I don't work tomorrow which gives me time to elevate my legs and hope that a new varicose vein doesn't pop up.

More adventures tomorrow from your little tug boat.