Chasing Frogs with the Stunt Moose

Back from Lady Road Trip 2011. We didn't go terribly far, but we had a hoot of a time. What can I say? I know how to pick travel companions.

We ate at a number of oddball mom-and-pop restaurants (some good, some bad), hung out in a bar that was established in 1889, traipsed through a tiny museum where we were flirted with by little old men, and tromped around the pioneer cemeteries – where we concluded that the popular Victorian epitaph "We Will Meet Again" was more than a bit threatening.

We also concluded that the 19th century was one hella-tough time to be a baby. Or a miner. Or a woman of child-bearing years. Or … oh, hell. Let's just say "born."

Later we split a bottle of wine, then went running around outside in our pajamas looking for frogs. Which we found. They were loud and adorable, and we were glad we'd brought flashlights so that we could better appreciate their wee poofy throats and accusing stares.

Anyway – I have a morbid fondness for Victorian funerary procedures, peripherals, and accouterments – including tombstone poetry. So I took lots of pictures in the cemetery, and you can click through them over here on Flickr.

[Crossposted from my website. If you'd like to comment, you can do so either here or there.]