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Where the deer and the antelope plaaaay!

That is, Wyoming! I liked Wyoming. It started out lush and green near Utah, got deserty, and finished out farm-landy near Nebraska. There were tons of antelope near the freeway (we speculated they hung out there because it’s illegal to shoot them from the freeway, as signs along the way made clear), two dead coyotes, and one live one–plus a bunch of hawks and vultures. This is the landscape of classic westerns, and it was refreshing. Table lands, valleys, and little rivers. Lots of buttes. Little buttes. Big buttes. Green buttes. Brown buttes. . .

Places visited: Fort Bridger (where for all we know Molly’s pee-filled potty is still sitting in the empty gravel lot in the same place we forgot it). Green River (don’t try to sleep near a train yard AND a lumber mill). Rock City (lot’s of rocks. Walmart had a frikkin’ salon in it! But no Baby Bjorn potties. Oh well). And a pleasant farm field in “Egbert” Wyoming (pleasant except for the one lonely, squeaky windmill that I thought was a very, very retarded person trying to play the trumpet all night. It was actually a relief to realize, come morning light, that that poor retarded person had not been struggling with their trumpet all night instead of sleeping. Like I had.) And then we went on to Nebraska. . .

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P.S. Yellowstone is in Wyoming. We didn’t go there. But I heard that they have wolves again, and so I thought that was exciting–I was in the same state as some real, live, wild, sickly mule deer-eating wolves!!! I think we need more of those in Sac, our mule deer are always so scraggly and sickly looking.

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