1. This is a yurt
We bought 5 of them from Mongolia for the ranch, for the boys to sleep in. They are jaunty, they are charming, they smell like a yak (being that they are insulated with a yak fur/ Fiberglas felt). They came all in a large shipping crate from Mongolia and took some serious work setting up. The boys sleep in these, whilst we female staff sleep in this American yurt, not so jaunty, nor charming, but sans yak smell and with lovely large windows.
Eventually we'll have bunk houses, but the boys are totally digging the yurts and they lend to the rustic experience. On the first night evening co-ordinator extrodinaire, Ash, organized a yak effigy making extravaganza (out of newspaper) which were then burned in a fire to please the yak gods. A lore of the yak ancestors was composed and read by counselor Jeff, and they boys ate it up like candy from a stranger.
2. Well, during the setting up of the yurts (which came with zero instructions) we were frequently endangered by falling poles out of the main spoke wheel whilst getting the frame set up. On one such occasion I happened to catch a falling pole with the bridge of my nose. It hurt. A lot. It bled. A lot. It was bruised internally for quite some time (still is a little) and I got a nasty deep cut. . . I'm hoping for a sweet scar , and there is a permanent indent in my nose now. All this for free, yesiree folks, a free nose job just for setting up a yurt (now I know next time I have a yurt setting up party you will ALL be there!).
3. Spending the bulk of my waking hours with teen boys (12-15 years old) has given me new insights into these strange creatures, and I feel I may be slowly morphing into one. So I made this handy dandy checklist to see how far along I am to teen boydom, you can assess yourself too! So, you know you are a teen boy if:
- Chuck Norris is a constant standard to which all things are compared and measured, e.g. "Chuck Norris could buck 200 bales at once" or "Chuck Norris could set up 5 yurts in 5 minutes";
- a mixture of dirt/sweat/hay/manure/etc. encrusted on your skin is no reason for a shower, it's just the way you are;
- you wonder, after eating 11 plates of pasta salad, if you are still hungry;
- EVERYTHING, even what things you did in your sleep, is fodder for competition with other boys;
- and finally, you KNOW you are a teen boy if you ask questions like "are those sandwiches you're making for lunch today?" or "is beef a horse?".
5. So, in parting I leave you with picture taken from the road leading to the ranch. . .it's gorgeous here. Come visit. Come let your inner teen boy free. I'll even let you sleep in a yurt, or buck some bales. Pinky promise.
p.s. I'm still trying to figure out this blogging thing, I'm afraid I'm dreadful at configuring the page with photos and text, please forgive the appalling layout of this post. . .