Remember that time I was going to Idaho? On purpose? Because I do. I mean, when you live in a giant square state west of the Mississippi, there aren’t a lot of cheap options for a long weekend. Nevada is even more dusty and sepia-toned than Utah. If that’s even possible. The parts of Wyoming that are accessible are mostly not fun. So unless I want to drive more than 8 hours to hit another state like Colorado, the Spud State is where it’s at.
It’s apparently a candy bar?
I still need a cat sitter. I have loads of laundry to do, and I will spend most of the drive reading over federal grant guidance and listening to Davey’s “music” while munching on something low-carb, travel friendly and potentially freeze dried. It should be interesting, to say the least. I mean, I’ve only ever driven through Idaho; it’s never been a destination.
Again, the irony of traveling to a state known for potatoes when I don’t eat them.
So after getting the oil changed, my beloved car will be transporting me and Davey to the Gem State, where I will take a ridiculous number of pictures, buy a metric ton of lottery scratchers, and probably leave with at least one stupid memento bought at a gas station/fast food restaurant hybrid with a giant, obnoxious sign advertising the best huckleberries in the state.
Because that’s a thing. Also, that trout is straight majestic.
Until next time, stay classy (and enjoy the state motto) Salt Lake.