Iâve been crabby lately. And I am mad about it.
No excuses, but constant pain and the frustrating inability to do things as simple as taking out the garbage get most of the blame.
As the anniversary of my birth rapidly approaches, I am forcing myself to be positive.
Because even if I need help with almost everything, there are still so many things that bring me joy. Like ice cream. Ice cream brings me immense joy.
Beginning with my 50th, which seems forever ago, I started listing my favorite things.
And please do not start humming that earworm song about raindrops on roses. That is not on my favorites list.
So what is?
Many of these will be no surprise because they are etched in my soul. But as a community exercise, with folks angrier about things than they have been in awhile, I wonder if youâd sit with your morning coffee or an ice cold beer and force yourself to think of your favorite things.
Even if you havenât been there, done that or tasted it in awhile, it just might bring a smile and wipe the crabby away.
â˘Road trips, anywhere, anytime. That tiny little RV still eludes me, but yet I persevere.
â˘War Memorial Stadium. They can fancy it up, but to me it will always be rusting metal and Jim Trabingâs grass. It is a shrine and literally my favorite place on earth. Is it September 7 yet?
â˘Football. Duh. All football, from the Packers and Bills to six-man high school. Heck, weâre even watching CFL on the weekends now to get us to the preseason.
And just to prepare you for fall, my rooting interests in college have expanded once again.
Cousin Pat is the offensive coordinator at the University of Colorado (donât ask me what conference theyâre in), and the Big Nephew is the assistant offensive line coach for the North Dakota State Bison, reuniting with Tim Polasek, his position coach at Iowa before Polasek moved to Wyoming.
â˘Food. I love food. I love tacos without cilantro and onion (thatâs not negative, just honest). Italian, things I donât make at home â veal piccata, white clam sauce, seafood lasagna. I love great sandwiches, like the grinders we used to get at the gas station in New England. My two favorite food groups are mashed potatoes and ice cream. What are yours?
â˘Dessert. Yes, this is its own category because like my Nana, I love dessert. I would do nearly anything for real cheesecake that isnât whipped and moussy and comes in a graham cracker crust. Not negative, again just truth.
And peach pie with sugar on the crust, because why not?
And cake. Lately, I have been obsessed by the thought of cake. Wyomingâs 134th birthday came and went and there was no cake.
If I owned a restaurant, there would be free cake all day on July 10. My own from a spendy bakery in New York City has been in the freezer for weeks, and I have no illusion that it will be as good as if I had made it.
And cannoli. Real cannoli with pistachio and candied fruit, like from the North End in Boston.
â˘Drink. Yes, please. Wine, bubbly and sweet with ice cubes. My preference, remember? Beer, domestic from Colorado and not the diet kind. And ice, ice cold. Breweries are lost on me. Mixed, frozen margarita anytime or vodka-7 with a twist of lemon in summer.
â˘Restaurants. I love going out to eat. Boscoâs in Casper is the best there is for real homemade Italian. Miners and Stockmans in Hartville is the best for steak and worth the drive (plus itâs a road trip so thatâs two for one). I have yet to find Mexican as good as Fraustoâs El Con in Laramie, but the search continues. And Born in a Barn in Laramie is our favorite for burgers.
â˘Books. So grateful for them as I hang out in my chair. Good stories, multi-generational family sagas, spice (a little or a lot). Thanks to a reader in this space, I have found Pamela Fagan Hutchins, whose stories are set in Wyoming. All books all the time.
Upon further review, I have absolutely no reason to be crabby. Go outside, look at the sky, face the stiff breeze head-on. Look where you are.
If youâre in the 307, count your blessings. If youâre not here, plan to come. Just donât tell us how you do it back home, unless you bring cannoli.
Sally Ann can be reached at: SallyAnnShurmur@gmail.com





