Gone with the Wind

In England you have to deal with rain and a bunch of dreary days.

In Wyoming you have to deal with the wind.

And lots of it.

I'm not talking about little gusts either. I'm talking huge-knock-you-over gusts.

It's almost pointless to do your hair because once you step outside it's messed up. Unless you cake it with hairspray, which I don't. So usually I'm walking around stores with a rat's nest on top of my head thanks to the wind.

Thank goodness I'm not like one of those women who have to look perfect all the time. I'd be in trouble then.

I was walking to the mailbox the other night to drop off my Netflix (I am loving how fast it is in the States--takes two days!) and I was nearly blown to the side. I had my head down and was battling the wind and WHOOSH--I was moved a couple of feet to the side.

"Darn you wind," I muttered. "I will make it to my mailbox."

And I did.

Barely.

Then the wind pushed me back inside the house. I burst through the front door and nearly smacked the wall.

The wind has nearly blown away my kid twice. We were outside ready to go somewhere (Wal-Mart) and a huge gust suddenly appeared and I saw Tommy start to be pushed away from the truck.

"AHHH MOMMY!" he screamed as his little feet sped up underneath him.

Of course my Mommy instincts kicked in and I rushed over and scooped him up.

"Mommy what is it?" Tommy asked, concerned.

"That's the wind."

Now whenever he hears the wind blowing outside he'll go, "Darn wind!"

Darn wind, indeed.