I Hope, You're Having Fun

Because this is more writing than I have done consecutively (and in length) on this blog since like 2008.

After waking up to that morning view and making some pancakes, we headed on down the road, the Moki (or Mokee) Dugway to be precise, which led us down, down, down to the Valley of the Gods.

Image from here

No one could tell me why it's called the Valley of the Gods--not the locals and not the Interwebs. And instead of seeing Gods in these formations, I simply saw a pinky finger.

And other odd-looking formations.

And I think they are cool regardless of the unknown back story. Steve may have been more excited about some guy who rode the same motorcycle as his dad, but it's hard to tell.

In this case, I'm the dork who is wearing socks with her Birkenstocks. Don't judge.

Then, we continued East to Hovenweep, which from all the hype is a sad second to Mesa Verde given that the latter was mostly closed at this time of year. But to be honest, I can only look at so many granaries and ruins, so I am grateful for the mere 2 mile loop.

And then, we drove by the Church of God. No big deal.

And through some horribly, God-forsaken towns (if you can even call them that). Aneth, I'm looking at you. And we ended up at a place that looks like one large rectangle full of bathroom stalls.

Or Four Corners Monument.

And then, both of us were done looking at God-forsaken land, so we drove to Bluff, which is only slightly less God-forsaken, but supposedly has the best Navajo fry bread around. And our hotel with free Internet, which meant that we could not only finally download "Band on the Run," but Steve could make sure I watched 127 Hours. And I'm glad that I watched it after our ordeal in Canyonlands. That scene where the guy, Ralston, not only breaks his arm (twice), but saws his arm off with that blunt knife--Ick. Close my eyes and plug my ears. Ick.

Needless to say, I had a difficult time falling asleep. While that fry bread tasted good, it made my stomach hurt.