If you're wondering if I woke up only to run right outside to climb a small mountain in our backyard, then you are not only psychic but a creep. Why would you be thinking about that? Don't you have something to do?
As for me, I not only scaled a mini-mountain but also hiked across a trail where I found this little beauty.
Oh, hey, Idaho (See, I told you I would do some outdoor adventuring). Next we visited the town of Ketchum (See, I told you I would do some small-town exploring) and found a very nice little bookstore as well as some other gems. However, in my roamings, I found many pictures and t-shirts of Ernest Hemingway. That's when I found out that he was buried a minute from where I was staying.
As you can see, people remember him by drinking too much and smoking at his grave. Hey, if he had been alive, he would have done it with you. The money is a nice touch--not as clever as the coconut water though.
Needless to say, I ended up with a collection of Hemingway's short stories from the bookstore I mentioned earlier. I have my night completely set.
Then I realize that a movie I wanted to see is about to go off Netflix.
Priorities...
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