Here are the new corporate offices of Western Governors University (Montana Campus) and Workday Bozeman.
We’re in a thousand-square-foot 2 bedroom condo for the next few weeks, and this is the best that we could come up with for working spaces. It actually is much more functional than you might think….well, it would have to be, wouldn’t it?….and I’m quite comfortable. Pandora over the headphones insulates me from Ethel’s meetings and phone calls – and the 60+ Mbps connection is better than we had at home in Utah; it may be better, in fact, than what we each had at our Utah offices, as those were shared-bandwidth situations.
Life is proceeding apace here in the Great White North – no, wait. That’s Canadia, right? We’re not in the Great Plains – the eastern part of Montana certainly is Great Plainsey, but “Montana” means “Mountain”. We’re not in the Pacific Northwest – heck, here in Bozeman, we’re actually on the Atlantic side of the Continental Divide, although not by much. I suspect we could call it the “Northern Rockies” – there. That works…anyway, things are moving along. We’re two weeks out from closing on the new house, with all that that involves. And we’re learning our way around Bozeman from a resident’s perspective, and finding the new places that will someday be old hat.
For instance, last night, we swam for the first time with the Bozeman Masters swim club; that was not fun for me (I’m the introvert) nor was it easy. They are a SWIM club, not a TRI club; they want me to something called “IM” but that doesn’t mean IronMan – it means Individual Medley. But it turns out that it’s not very “individual” at all – it orta be called “Regimented Medley” because it involves all kinds of things that nobody would EVER do if left to their own individuality; things like “Butterfly” and “Backstroke” and “Breaststroke”.
“Breastroke” seems like “Dogpaddle” and it’s just as tiring. “Backstroke” – well, were I to actually DO a backstroke, I would need my own pool. With rubber cushions on the sides. And “Butterfly”? That’s just a fancy, exhausting way to drown. I was able to do “Fly” for about four strokes before I gave up and reverted to “Breastroke” for the rest of the length, whereupon I started to cramp up.
But Ethel wants to do social stuff like that, so I’ll go back. Even though they’ll soon be shunning me, or giving me my own lane.
We’ve been going to different restaurants, enjoying the variety while looking for a “go-to” place. In Park City, that once was El Chubasco, but as our time got more precious this last residence, it eventually became Billy Blanco’s . A “go-to” restaurant means that place where you go when you don’t have time to – or don’t feel like – cooking; it means a place with which you are familiar and in which you have confidence; enough variety in the menu, and inexpensive enough (and casual enough) to be comfortable. We haven’t found that yet here in Bozeman (although I really like Rosauer’s deli, Ethel refuses to let a grocery store deli be our “go-to”). We’re still looking, and the search is fun in itself.
Church works; we feel comfortable there, but not too comfortable (“I am here to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable”) and meetings are pretty good. There is weirdness, but it ain’t West Coast foo-foo or Salt Lake City buffet (“I don’t have a topic picked out, so you all just talk about whatever you want to talk about”) – quite a few of these folks have read the book, and even paid attention.
We’re learning our way around – when to avoid that intersection, how that road cuts through to a remarkable shortcut, how to get to the running trails. We’ve found a great local lake for open water swimming, and that’s in a park with gorgeous shady running trails as well. This weekend, I did a nice long bike ride up into Hyalite Canyon to the reservoir; felt comfortable the whole way. Folks around here are used to bicycles.
Life is proceeding apace for the Pucketts of Bozeman, MT, and will continue to do so for another week or two.
Then we close on the house, and things will get crazy.