Today it was in the eighties and so sunny I could barely lift my eyes up from the sidewalk after noon. Last week it snowed. Having lived in Texas for most of my life, I still take photos when it snows.





Then it rained all day on Monday, Memorial Day. Officially, this is the weirdest weather I've experienced. Ah, Montana.

After Williston, Bozeman was a sight for sore eyes with its natural foods stores, artisan caramel makers, and most excellent Nova Cafe (www.thenovacafe.com). The club here is gorgeous inside and out -- I don't believe I've ever seen a view like this from the parking lot of any other club.





Dig that fence, too.



There's ample parking for semis in the back but also a gorgeous granite bar and dozens of types of premium vodka and scotch. Nice girls, great staff, just a wonderful week, kicked off by the folks who were toasting "Boze Angeles." Why? Because, they said, "Bozeman is the Los Angeles of Montana!" I like it more than that and would say instead that it's the Asheville or Ithaca of Montana.

So I worked last week, and it was fun. Lots of construction workers, contractors, and oil and gas dudes from all over pass through here, not to mention the occasional smokin' ski instructor or elementary school teacher (!). I like the folks up here and hope to return later in the summer. If I hadn't bought plane tickets and made plans through, oh, September, I would just stay here.

But I have to hitch up tomorrow and start for Fargo. I really struggled today but I have been curious about the Northern for so long, and a dancer today told me that "if Lake Woebegone had a strip club, it would be the Northern." If that isn't a ringing endorsement, I don't know what is. Though you know what, I really try not to think about NPR while stripping too much. Perhaps I should get started on that stripper "This American Life" parody podcast now.