Musings, Nits, and Praises: If You Can't Sleep, Type

Musings, Nits, and Praises

A farrago of all things deemed blog-worthy by a music-loving, poetry-writing, humor-seeking English teacher

If You Can't Sleep, Type

Well, I went to bed over an hour ago, but I couldn't go to sleep. It probably has something to do with the fact I took a nap this afternoon and that it's roughly 165 degrees in our bedroom. Ok, so it's not that hot, but my wife's feet are at normal body temperature, and that's saying something.

It's been nice just take it easy the past two weeks. I've managed to send a few queries to magazines, start my reading for the school year, enjoy the Red Sox' 12-game winning streak, see three movies--Top Gun (at the Movie on the Rocks night at Red Rocks) Mission Impossible III for $4 total at the Elvis Discount Theater (and we're not even in Memphis yet) and Superman Returns--and watch a glut of programs on The History Channel.

But we've also taken in plenty of the great outdoors. I made my foray into fly fishing (as you can see me deftly demonstrate fly casting in the photo). We also visited Estes Park (the Stanley Hotel is located there, for fans of
The Shining), drove through Rocky Mountain National Park, went to Pike's Peak and an even taller peak (the name of which is eluding me right now), and took a ride on a steam train as well as a tour of a silver mine. Because I'm too lazy to elaborate on any of these travels right now, I'll just provide some photos for the time being.

Tomorrow we'll continue our outdoor festivities with a 6-mile hike through Herman's Gulch, which means I probably ought to try and go get some sleep.

2 Responses to “If You Can't Sleep, Type”

  1. # Blogger Chad Gardner

    The wife and I went to Pike's Peak last September. Did you guys make the drive up in your own car?  

  2. # Blogger Jason

    We rode up in Janet's dad's truck; I'm pretty sure my Gallant wouldn't have made it. Riding with Janet's parents also provided us with plenty of comical relief since her mom is afraid of heights. Anytime there was a clear view below us, she'd get a death grip on the arm rest and look away. Needless to say, we had fun picking on her--"Hey, Carla, check out the view!"  

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