I’m in Missoula with my kids, ready to head back towards home. We came here so I could pick out a place to live when I come here in the fall to belatedly complete my English Degree, with a minor in Creative Writing. A separate entry will be required for all of the crazy coincidences that have been pummeling me for the last week. I will deal with just the one here. I am trying to choose a campground or two to stay at for the two remaining days of our trip.
Ok universe, ok. I tried to pick a campground based on convenience to our route home; it should be in the mountains, because what is the point to being in Montana sans mountains; the presence of showers and a nice lake or creek is also a prerequisite, and possibly activities we would be interested in. There are approximately 17,342 campgrounds in Montana. But the universe keeps leading me back to Wayfarers State Park on Flathead Lake (I fell in love with the location on a previous finding-myself-trip to Montana). Ok. OK! OK ALREADY!!! I don’t know why this is so important to the universe, but I learned when it hit me on the head last year to listen. Maybe I’m supposed to save the world from there, or maybe the zombie apocalypse will break out while we are there, and it is the ideal place to pit in; but clearly I have to go there and camp with my kids.
My boys do have an arsenal of new Nerf weapons purchased while we were in Missoula. One of our zombie apocalypse scenarios involves the undead horde’s suprising but useful vulnerability to orange foam Nerf bullets. So in an A Prayer for Owen Meany kind of a way, maybe it is all falling together.
I`ll let you know.
Next entry: The house in old Missoula that freaked me the F out.