My Weekend: The Weather Version

(Laramie, early morning)
Light, fluffy snow.
(Driving)
Snow.
Heavier snow.
HEAVIER snow.
Sunshine!
Heavy snow.
Snow.
Snow.
Rain.
Fog.
Snow.
Snow.
Snow.
Rain.
(Thermopolis)
Gray skies.
Hot springs.
Spotty sunshine.
Grocery shopping.
"This campground is nice, but let's look at another."
"This campground is too windy; let's go back to the other."
Sarah makes a fire (because I rock).
Nice Riverton boys bring us firewood.
Roasted weenies.
Roasted shrimp.
Roasted cheese and crackers.
Roasted marshmallows.
Roasted marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers.
Sarah burns her lip on a skewer.
"I think a snowflake just assaulted my face."
"Shut up! No, it didn't. You've had too much to drink."
"That was definitely a snowflake. Or a raindrop."
"Stop talking about rain."
Long and deep conversations, apparently ignoring the fact that it most definitely is raining - quite hard - on us now.
"It's raining! Everything is soaked! Crap!"
Frenzied rush to get everything food-ish into the car.
Douse the fire.
Douse the fire again.
Douse the fire again, just to make sure.
Climb into the tent and change into dry clothes.
Climb into sleeping bags and shiver and talk and shiver and shiver some more.
Zonk out.
(3 a.m.)
WOOOOOOOSH!
"Holy heck! It's a tornado!" (it wasn't)
Wind.
Wind.
Wind.
WIND.
"Wind. River. Canyon. Now we know why."
Hysterical laughter (Sarah).
(5 a.m.)
J. goes back to sleep, despite the fact that the tent has turned into a Shrinkydink that wraps around our heads with every gust of wind.
(6 a.m.)
Sarah momentarily gives up trying to sleep and figures that outside can't be any worse than inside.
(6:03 a.m.)
Outside is definitely worse.
Sarah traipses around the campground, retrieving the towels, swimsuits and unaccounted-for dishes that took flight during the night and are now resting closer to our neighbors than to us.
(6:17 a.m.)
Sarah climbs, shivering and windblown, back into the tent. Pulls knit hat low enough to cover eyes to block out the rising sun.
Wind.
Wind.
Wind.
SLEEP! Blessed, welcome sleep.
(10 a.m.)
Wake up.
Tear down camp.
Eat soggy leftover crackers and cheese and apples.
Head back to Thermopolis.
Finish weekend there (pancakes included)
Begin Drive Home.
(Wind River Res)
Rain.
Wind.
Rain.
Wind.
Rain.
RAIN.
RAIN.
RAIN.
(Lander)
Snow.
Snow.
Bird-sized snowflakes.
Blizzard.
Apocalyptic snowstorm.
Three inches of slush on the highway.
Snow.
FOG.
Snow.
Snow and fog and rain.
Snow.
Miraculously snow-free.
(Rawlins)
Dark.
McDonald's.
Dark.
Dark.
Dark.
Home.
Bed.