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4 Jan

Cosmo facejpg

Why, hello there.

I have lots of random photos and stories from the past months that I’ve been meaning to share here, but I haven’t really been in the mood. Not for any real reason, I just feel so busy all the time. GAME OF THRONES IS NOT GOING TO WATCH ITSELF! But I do have things to post. Presents to gloat about. Cakes to show off. Dog shenanigans to share.

Honestly, most of the silence is because I haven’t been taking pictures. Like, at all. We even went on vacation and I took just three photos. It’s trauma from putting together the “slideshow” of my dad to show at his memorial service. Now whenever I take a picture of someone, I think of death. Cheerful, right? Trying to get over that. Till then, enjoy some photos of non-people! And maybe one of Stephen covered in fake blood. Because that doesn’t imply death at all!

First, of course, a doggie update. Hugo has gone from this:

Hugo little (and Cosmo!)

I love when you can see wagging tails in dog pics

To this:

Hugo eats his wheaties. And his poop.

Hugo eats his wheaties. And his poop.

I can’t believe he was that small when we moved in. Or that he was ever small, period. He is huge. Pretty much everyone who meets him makes the same joke of “Hugo? You mean HUGE-o!”

He’s still super goofy, which is wonderful. This

tongue action

. . . became this

I don't even know what he's doing

I don’t even know what he’s doing

Cosmo is also adorable and smoochable, still, of course. SPEAKING of Cosmo:

Cosmo is fancy!

Cosmo is fancy!

I commissioned my amazingly talented friend Karen to paint Cosmo in a suit, and she only laughed in the nicest way, and she did an AWESOME job (this photo really doesn’t do it justice, the lighting in my house is terrible). I absolutely love it. Shot to the top of my “things to save in a fire” list.* And she’s working on one of Hugo! Yep, I have a commissioned portrait of Cosmo wearing a bow tie. And Hugo is going to be wearing a fedora.

The vacation I mentioned was to Portland, to see Bruce Springsteen. It was fantastic. We stayed in a hotel that had a mural of John Lennon’s face on the wall.

everytime I looked at it I thought "oh, PORTLAND"

everytime I looked at it I thought “oh, PORTLAND.” And that is the face Stephen made when I said “look like John Lennon.”

We hung out with my friend Kristi and her dog Steven. That was really fun. If I was normal I would have pictures of the amazing Ethiopian dinner we went to, and Kristi being cute choosing ice cream flavors from the amazing ice cream parlor she took us to, and then MORE pictures of Kristi being cute with Steven. But I’m not normal, so all I have is one blurry phone picture of Steven mid-prance. But he is enough cute on his own.

getting some rump rubs from Kristi

getting some rump rubs from Kristi

Portland rained a lot, (SHOCKING) but we had some great food and it was very chill and relaxing. Also, it’s a town that has orange dog statues, and yes, I really want to move there.

he's even smiling!

he’s even smiling!

The highlight (and the whole point) of the mini-vacay was Bruce. Or, BBRRUUUCCEEEEEE, as he’s known to his fans (that was my facebook status the day after the concert, which was the day we saw Kristi, and she said a bunch of her Portland FB friends had the exact same status. Ha!).

We were in a killer location on the floor. Which you can’t tell at all from this terrible picture I took with my terrible phone. Bruce is jjuussssttt behind where the guy in front of me’s hand is, you can kind of see Bruce’s back. Just look for the spotlight and the space where every person’s iphone is pointing. Which is way closer than it appears here.

he's RIGHT there! I promise!

he’s RIGHT there! I promise!

I can’t even explain how phenomenal this concert was. One of my all-time favorite musicians/song-writers was encouraging me to sing along with him to some of my all-time favorite songs, while he was standing close enough to make eye contact with me. Not that we DID make eye contact . . . but man, at the time it felt like he made eye contact WITH MY SOUL. It was life-changing. My feelings were probably akin to what normal people feel when their newborn grasps their finger for the first time. The three-hour concert was one of the most completely pure, fully sincere, wholly un-cynical moments of my life.  The energy and love in that room was unbelievable. Seriously. People WORSHIP this man. We stood next to some Italians who had been following him around for the past 50 shows of his tour. Italians! English isn’t even their native tongue! Springsteen: the universal language.**

Since about March(ish?), Emily and I have been having mini-movie parties. We trade turns picking a movie then hosting a theme night. We’ve had some great themes and epic foods, especially when introducing each other to movies we haven’t seen. Emily had never seen Jaws! I know! So August was Jaws movie night at my house.

I'm very proud of my vegan shark cake

I’m very proud of my vegan shark cake


remains of Jaws’ kill. Why is the hand larger than the torso? Why did Jaws eat all the toes off the foot? These are the mysteries of the deep, my friends. The ocean tells no tales.

da dum. da dum. DADUMDADUMDADUM. Just because the cake is vegan doesn't mean the shark is . . .

da dum. da dum. DADUMDADUMDADUM. Just because the cake is vegan doesn’t mean the shark is . . .

shark attack victims. Some of them are more upset about it than others.

shark attack victims. Some of them are more upset about it than others.

Emily's contribution! a fruitful man-eater

Emily’s contribution! a fruitful man-eater


everyone got into the sharky spirit!


and I mean everyone

and I mean everyone.

yeah, the whole point was to show off my cake decorating in those first photos, which don’t really do it justice. I was so proud, because I am SO bad at that, but it actually looked good! We’ve done some other great ones . . . here’s the spread from Halloween (when the move was Trick R Treat):

the jackolantern is a punch bowl!

the jackolantern is a punch bowl!

I need suggestions for January, if anyone knows a good wintery movie. I’m thinking maybe Winter’s Bone, but other than a lot of bone-shaped treats I’m not sure what the food theme would be. Also it seems lazy to choose a move that has “winter” right in the title.

Speaking of shark attacks . . .



Stephen and I went to see the musical Evil Dead for the second year in a row. We went with our friends Lonnie and Marie, and we sat in the front row, and we all got drenched in fake blood. Lonnie and Marie LOVED the show. At one point I was worried Lonnie’s head might pop off, he was laughing so hard. It was really fun to share it with them, and a lot of the same actors were back this year, which is always fun to see that they must love the show too, to do it again. Anyway, the blood! THE BLOOD. Ridiculous. It was just chocolate syrup and food coloring, but it got everywhere. I had to throw out my contacts because they were dyed red when I took them out. It was great. Stephen looked especially gory, I think because the shaved head made the blood stand out. When we were walking out the show’s cast was standing in the lobby, kind of doing a meet-and-greet, and Ash (main character) saw Stephen and starting laughing and pointing at him. Which is always nice to have a stranger do, whilst you’re covered in blood (it was great).

gratuitous picture of puppy snuggles (GPOPS)

gratuitous picture of puppy snuggles (GPOPS)

And that’s it for now. I was gonna write some house updates, but I have to leave SOME suspense for the next post. There are walls that have been painted and bookcases installed and holes dug in yards by certain dogs and all kinds of craziness! Edge of your seat now, aren’t you? I’ll try not to let another million months go by before an update. What will happen to the internet if I don’t post dog pictures, after all? I don’t think we want to find out.

*More evidence of how I think in morbid, death-ish terms now: while admiring the amazingness of the painting, a voice in the back of my head was like, “after I die and all my possessions are given to a thrift store I hope some really awesome goofy teen buys this painting and hangs it in their bedroom on Mars.”

**I really wanted him to play “Terry’s Song,” which was my main contribution to my dad’s memorial service: the lyrics were printed on the bulletin and the song played during part of the photo DVD. But it is probably best that he didn’t because I would’ve collapsed in a puddle of emotion on floor, and then contracted a polio-syphilis hybrid disease and died because the floor was super gross.


Strollin’ in a winter wonderland

18 Jan


Know what’s even better than getting a mid-January visit from one of your Favorites, whom you haven’t seen in years? Having her bring along a baby, a homemade baby that she created her very own self!!! (with some help from her husband, I think. But still, it’s amazing to me.)

lookit that face!

Is that a baby, or is that a baby? I ask you. Chelsea was telling me about a community art festival they went to, one of those things where kids sit around playing with fingerpaints and making macaroni picture frames, and teens volunteer to get their credits for National Honor Society. One of the teen girls sitting by them took one look at Michelle and said, “Oh my god, she is going to be SO conceited.” Totally sincere and deadpan. Chelsea thought it was about the most hilarious backhanded compliment ever (and man, what must that poor girl’s life be like that she sees a cute kid and assumes she’s going to be a total bitch later in life?).

But seriously, this girl is gonna be so conceited. And rightfully so. Know what’s even cuter than a cute baby?

A PUPPY AND A BABY! Michelle and Cosmo had a love/hate relationship. Or rather, Michelle hated Cosmo at first, then learned to love him. It makes sense, because even though Cosmo was so awesome and gentle with her . . . he is also bigger than her, and really, really loved licking her face. And she’d met maybe two other dogs in her life, so. He was pretty much a huge, wet, monster coming at her every five minutes. But once she learned to think of those licks as kisses, they found a common ground.

In addition to being the adorable owner of some adorable dimples, Michelle has a well-developed sense of humor. She is learning the basic locations of all the major facial landmarks: eyes, ears, lips, nose, etc. You ask her to find your nose, and she will happily oblige via a pudgy fingertip up your nostril.

So when she got comfortable with Cosmo, I asked “Where’s the doggy’s nose?” She contemplated, then gently touched his nose. GENIUS! BRILLIANT! BRAVOOOO!!! “Michelle, where’s the doggy’s eyes?” A beat of contemplation, and then she gently touched his nose and giggled. Amazing comedic timing, that one.

Chelsea said Michelle didn't like potato based foods. But then she tried some Idaho fries. Small fry loved her some french fries!

We did a bunch of Idaho-y things. I was a bit worried, since I’m not exactly versed in entertaining one-year-olds. But it turned out pretty good! We did some hot springing, some general exploring, lots of eating. And a stroll through the madness that is Cleo’s Ferry.

just your regular, everyday demonic boy on bike

look out behind you!

Lincoln approves.

look closely behind those deers . . . do you notice the . . .


they were everywhere!

 That place is just NUTS. Know what’s also nuts? A baby who knows sign language! She can’t form words, yet she can tell you when to change her diaper! On the other hand, all the brilliance is somewhat balanced by the fact that her favorite thing to do was put her socked feet in Cosmo’s water bowl. A complex dame, that one.

’tis the season for horror stories!

12 Dec

I was all about the cultural experiences this weekend. I was also all about losing at Mystery Rummy many times in a row, but we will focus on the culture, because that’s much more flattering to me. And definitely more interesting (DAMN YOU RIPPER ESCAPES CARD!!!).

Saturday night Stephen and some friends and I went to see “What Happened at Sunny Sky? (The Acheri.).” It is technically a horror play, though is described as an “experience” rather than a play, and I can get behind that definition. They had a whole building outfitted as a creepy abandoned daycare, and the play was acted out across two rooms. You sit right in amongst the action. After taking our tickets outside, the doorman only let us in a few at a time, always putting on one of those white painter’s fumes mask over his face before opening the door. It was an awesome touch. When telling a friend about that very detail this weekend, he asked “was the play about a virus?” and I was all “well . . . I don’t know . . .”

And that was the only problem. The story was pretty convoluted. The beginning was great, because there were lots of scary little startles, and you get into it because it’s the play’s beginning, so mystery is ok, it’s all going to be explained in the end. Except it wasn’t? Or, I didn’t understand it. It was super-ambitious and fun to watch, but . . . only if you don’t mind being confused. It was really unique and had some genuinely scary moments, and I am really glad we saw it . . . but I was a little bummed to feel like everything kind of got twisted and never untwisted (wouldn’t it be great if twost was the past tense of twisted?). I read about its creation, and it was apparently “crafted during intensive improv workshops with the company’s actors.” Which . . . I mean . . . I don’t know anything about writing plays, but it definitely had a “too-many-cooks-in-the-kitchen” feel too it, so maybe that’s why? ANYHOO, I think only one person in Boise actually reads this blog, so, Karen, you should see it, despite those caveats. All you other five readers who don’t live in Boise should be jealous, despite those caveats.

My other cultural activity was to take niecey-poo to see The Nutcracker, another horror play, in my opinion. Because that story is majorly whack. I didn’t really know the plot until reading the synopsis at intermission, but damn gina. I will add this to my Things People Think Are Cute But Are Really Kind of Awful: The Christmas Edition* list. I mean, it’s supposed to be a dream, right? Except she doesn’t wake up at the end, so maybe it’s not a dream? What I couldn’t get over is how many of the little girls in the audience totally looovvveeedd it. Including my niece. I could tell when the Big Parts were because I could hear little girlie voices squealing “The candy canes!” etc. in surround-sound throughout the theater. Is this a thing? I swear I did not know about the existence of The Nutcracker till teenagehood, when a dancer friend of mine performed in it. And I saw her performance, but I can’t remember any of it, I just had a vague impression that it was like, Toy Story: The Ballet. I didn’t realize the girl fell in love with the nutcracker and got magicked away to his homeland (though I do like the touch of her hitting the Rat King with her shoe to help NC win the fight; major props, Clara. Buttercup could learn a thing or two from you [when they’re in the fire swamp and she just stands there as the ROUS attacks Wes? UGH]). Anyway, I guess little girls are supposed to love this ballet. I only took tap dance, and I spent most of my childhood writing fan letters to Koko the gorilla when I should’ve been attending ballets with sugarplum fairies, apparently. So I am just catching up now. Isabelle loved it, because she’s a normal little girl who has danced the sugarplum fairy dance in her ballet class, and has a nutcracker book. I liked it too, because even I can appreciate pretty swirly dancing. I only got bored once or twice. I like group dances, but the individual dances in this kind of thing never hold my attention as much. Because I am unsophisticated (further proof of that: I was probably the only person there in jeans. I can’t take myself anywhere!)

*Don’t even get me started on the Elf on the Shelf thing

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . . a million tubas tuba-ing!

5 Dec

toot toot!

When you go to an event called “Tuba Christmas,” this is what you get: Tubas. Christmas.

note the kid wearing shorts in 30 degree weather. CRAZY

I’ve been wanting to go to this every year, but it’s always at like, 3 in the afternoon on a Saturday in December, and damn if that wasn’t always prime homework/final timings. But this year! No more grad school, biznatches! And by “biznatches” I of course mean “tubas”! It was so cute and weird and Christmasy, seeing this group of tuba (and miscellaneous brass instrument) players in front of Boise’s equivalent of the Rockefeller Center Tree, belting out Silent Night on their tubamaphones. Christmas Carols actually translate to tuba really well. Who knew!

The conductor was adorable, he was this little old dude who’s the Tuba Professor at BSU (Tuba Professer!!!!), and he kept encouraging the crowd to sing, and he danced along with the songs, and sang solo himself for the holiday classic “Santa Wants a Tuba for Christmas.” I went with my bud’ Erica, and after every song she turned to me and said TUBA CHRISTMAS in the voice most people would reserve for the phrase FREE CHOCOLATE. So that is two hardy votes for the awesomeness of it, and now you are convinced that your Christmas won’t be complete without tuba carols, right? I agree. It won’t be.

So, that was Saturday. SUNDAY I spent literally all day (except for two glorious hours of watching the Muppet Movie for the second time) making stockings for my dogs. Yep. My dogs have stockings, which are now hung by the chimney with care.

those are really more like moose antlers, but you get the gist

I was so excited to make them. As I bought the fabric I had all these dreams of making a ton of them and selling them at Cosmo’s ritzy doggie daycare, all proceeds going back to the Humane Society, and doggie stockings and I would SAVE THE WORLD. Then I realized it takes 8 hours to make two of them . . . and even though I love these two, they are very homemade looking. Homemade looking makes me love them all the more, but no one else would buy them (rightfully so). So, yeah. I will have to save the world some other way. Maybe with cookies? Somehow?

Cosmo's stocking. My mom did the "C" embroidery for me, because I don't quite have those skills. It's funny because I can totally tell it's her handwriting, just from that C (that looks ever so slightly like maybe a G, right? That's mah momz C)

Julius stocking

Notice the nails on Julius’s stocking? Want to know why Julius stocking has nails, but Cosmo stocking doesn’t? This is why:


Poor Julius. He is bald and blind and extremely lumpy, but mother nature made up for all those deficits by giving him KILLER CLAWS OF KILLING DEATH. Unlike normal dogs, who can have their nails clipped, Jules has nails that have veins full through. So if he was a human, his full nail would be the pink nail bed. No white clippable part. His feet are terrifying. So his stocking must represent that, natch.

Luckily he doesn't use his deadly weapons for anything other than prancing (much like a little reindeer prancing on each tiny foot).

 Doesn’t Cosmo do a pretty good imitation of the dog from The Grinch?

He's as cuddly as a cactus

he's got garlic in his soul

Bonus to the stockings: hanging next to each other, they are the initials for a certain Jesus Christ, who I’ve heard is a Christmas birthday boy. That’s gotta win some extra presents from Santa, right?

Antler outtake

The goose is getting fat!

30 Nov

oh tannenbaum!

The Saturday after Thanksgiving we went to get our tree, because we are Those People. I hold off on the holiday songs and stuff at least till the 1st, but why would I want to put off making things pretty with lights and decoration?

I am not ashamed.

Since it’s the first year either of us have simultaneously had space and money to maybe get a tree larger than a shoebox, we decided to go balls out and get a real live tree that we cut ourselves! And by “cut ourselves,” I of course mean that Stephen sawed down alone. While I provided background music.

Hide yo' entlings, hide yo' entwives

There was only one tree farm we could find within driving distance. It was pretty teeny, but it had chestnuts roasting on an open fire (literally) so it gets points for authenticity. We wandered a bit, and discovered that they also grew tribbles there . . .

these fuzzy weird things were EVERYWHERE!

But we didn’t want tribbles! We wanted tree(bbles)! There was a perfect squat little dude right in our needed size, so we cut into his life force and ripped him from the ground right quick!

psyching up the ax to do its dirty, sinful business

"wanna come home with us, lil' fella?"

Idaho actually has permits you can buy that let you go into the national forest and cut down a tree from anywhere there . . . but that seems somehow meaner than getting it from a farm. The farm tree is fulfilling its destiny! Not being ripped from its natural forest friends and family (just go with me on this one).


eye of the tiger

We decorated that sucka up last night. After first eating the greatest pizza on the planet (Flying Pie’s baked potato pizza). Yep, in Idaho, we even put potatoes on our pizza. Because we are AWESOME.

hawt carb on carb action. WITH CHEESE.

We both have pathetic ornament collections, so treesy is pretty bare, but I’m ok with that. I’ve always loved the tree decorating tradition (I mean, duh, who doesn’t) but my mom’s a teensy bit anal about it, in a way that meant she would go back and rearrange the ornaments to her liking, which always annoyed the crap out of me (love ya mom, who doesn’t read this blog!). This was the first year I had a tree big enough to have bare spots,  and I embrace it in all its natural, sparsely and unevenly decorated glory. Plus it’s a REAL tree! I haven’t had one of those since . . . like, pre-teen-hood at the latest. It’s glorious. I am so used to bending the plastic branches up to help support a heavy ornament. Doesn’t work so well on these organic trees, somehow.

This post is sponsored by Stephen Doing Work While I Watch, Inc.

Here’s the final tree, all ready to be read in front of while eating a bowl of pumpkin pudding and drinking hot cocoa. Which is pretty much how I will be spending my evenings from now until Dec. 31st. (related: have y’all picked up your holiday-themed m&ms yet? I highly recommend the cherry cordial and mint chocolate varieties.) 


ye olde scary things

24 Oct

I am determined to ride a haunted version of every old fashioned form of transportation. Few weeks ago it was the haunted trolley, this weekend it was a haunted train ride. Next week, who knows. Haunted dirigible, perhaps?

About 40 minutes outside Boise is a fun little old-fashioned train company that runs a fun little old-fashioned train, with various themes by the season. It doesn’t really TAKE you anywhere . . . or, well, it does, but it leaves from the middle of nowhere and goes to the middle of nowhere-north, so it’s really just for the ride, not the destination (life metaphor, my friends.). And the ride is just gorgeous, alongside a river and through the mountains and llama farms that make this state great. And since we were doing an evening train we got to see purple mountain majesty sunset on the way to, and some absolutely amazing no-light-pollution-for-miles country stars on the way back.

The Haunted Express consisted of dinner on the train as we rode an hour to a haunted corn maize and pumpkin patch. The food was surprisingly good, if all covered in meat (it was lasagna, meatballs, and green beans. Even the green beans had bacon on them). The tables were cute, the people were really friendly, and we got to run around the train like it was our own private Hogwarts Express.

A costumed conductor walked through the cars and told ghost stories of train crashes past, and tales of tommyknockers and headless cowboys and other local legends. Tommyknockers, for those who haven’t read the Stephen King book (including me. I’m just assuming he uses this same definition?), are the spirits of miners killed in collapses. They supposedly knock on mines walls right before a collapse, to either warn miners of the upcoming danger or to help cause the walls to cave (depending on if you are an optimist or a pessimist, when it comes to ghostly motivations). This railroad line has been around since the mining days, and the route was originally carved to transport miners and livestock. So there were plenty of grisly stories of greed and gumption in them thar’ hills.

The train stops at a curious little junction. It’s just next to the track, with no town in sight, just a train depot built in the middle of the mountain. I’d ridden this train once before with my niece for her birthday, and they had a teddy-bear picnic set up at the spot, so I guess they just theme it up for whatever train is coming in. There were a few fake façade old west buildings, I’m assuming for their Wild West Train. There were also a random assortment of cut-out-face thingys. I can never resist those, and why would I want to?

trick or treating scarecrows

The “haunted corn maize” was really a ten-foot long little outdoor hallway, made with bales of hay. From where we were sitting in the train, we watched the teens who had just been serving us snacks get off the car, put on scary dead-miner-tommyknockers costumes, walk to their hiding places in the corn maize, and lay in wait. It took a little of the suspense away, but it was adorable. Their costumes were actually pretty good, and one of them even limped! Now that’s dedication to character.

Waking up on Sunday morning after the train ride, I kicked Stephen and said “it feels like Christmas.” He agreed, and I think it was because we still had that fun, childish excitement feeling leftover from the train. The kind of simple and carefree joy that usually goes hand-in-hand with Christmas eve.

Or maybe we were just drunk? We did get a free bottle of wine on the train . . .

mmmm, huckleberry wine. Like alcoholic juice.

Haunted Boise

10 Oct

trolley outside the old idaho penitentiary

Friday night Stephen, Christie, Geoff and I went on a Haunted Trolley Tour of Boise (imagine that written in the ubiquitous red-blood-running Halloweeny font). And it was all you could ever want from a haunted trolley tour, let me tell you.

gettin' toasty on the trolley

There were only six of us on the trolley (everyone else had a “date with BSU football” apparently. By the time the tour started, BSU was ahead by 42 points. Such an exciting game, I’m sure.). It was decked out in Halloween decor, the driver wore a witch’s costume, and we drank hot cocoa while riding with the windows open and the heater on.

random stilt walker on the corner. I love that he's kind of blurry, it makes it more theme-appropriate. He was just walking down the street, in rainbow pants on stilts. Talking on his cellphone. Like you do.

There was a recording that narrated ghost stories as we drove past each haunted place. It was so great and home-y. At one point there was some blinking light that the driver asked Geoff to switch off because she couldn’t reach it while driving, and the trolley had to be jump-started earlier that day, so she never stopped it even when we got to the walk-around parts of the tour. When we drove down Elm Street, the driver skipped over the tour recording part because she said it was stupid and just recapped the plot of Nightmare on Elm Street, but pretending it happened in Boise. It was just a cute, intimate little local tour, low-budget in the best ways.

those little flash sticks just don't warm you as much as you'd think

We stopped at the Pioneer Cemetery (Boise’s first graveyard, moved from its original spot) and the old Idaho State Penitentiary. We weren’t allowed to go in the graveyard, but peered in at the appropriately spooky gravestones. Note the orb in that photo! OOOOWEEEEE OOOOOOO! 

ahhh ghost spider!

The Old Pen was fun at night. We couldn’t go inside, but we could walk around the old scaffolds, and just seeing the outer walls in moonlight was spooky enough. There was a guard making rounds, talking on his cellphone. He stopped his conversation just long enough to wish us a good night. I tried to ask him about seeing ghosts, but he didn’t hear me. PROBABLY BECAUSE HE WAS A GHOST.

ghosts along the watchtower

hiding from ghosts

ahhh ghost cross!

lights outside the old pen

Some of my favorite parts didn’t involve the local ghost lore (which was fun), but the weird local history tidbits. Like, there’s a statue of Abraham Lincoln near the capital building that’s the oldest standing statue of Lincoln. Its facial features were created with a plaster mask taken of Lincoln’s dead head. And the old Ada County Courthouse has murals from the 1800s that include depictions of a Native American being lynched, and a pioneer woman with three arms (what? I know.). The first pioneer cemetery was built in a flood plain, so every spring the rains would cause corpses to float up into the streets (after telling us this fact, the tour train started playing some song whose main chorus included “don’t be afraid to drown” or something like that).

Toot toot! Abandon hope all ye who enter this trolley!

All in all, it was precisely the kind of thing I love. Goofy, obviously someone’s passion project, and full of spookys. Providing me a reason to be outside in the fall, with a cup of hot cocoa, boosted it up some extra points. Good work, Boise.