On Friday night, despite the threat of bear attacks,West Nile Virus, and/or becoming hippies, the courageous three of us decided it was more important to escape the one hundred million degrees of Phoenix (which have beenwelldocumented) and go camping in Prescott. Prescott is about two hours north of us and sits at a 6,000-feet elevation so the temperature when we got there around 7 pm was about 65 degrees and DELICIOUS and I wept for the beauty of it, or I made this face.
During the first night, Jethro woke up in the middle of the night and went absolutely bonkers over something outside the tent. I was convinced it was either a bear or the rapture, but it turned out to be a deer. At least that's what Aaron told me while he looked out with a flashlight and I buried my head in my sleeping bag and wondered who was going to read my journals when the police found them. Although, do police investigate the homes of people who die from bear attacks? I guess I'm not sure why they would, except it would make for great TV, especially if the bear had a vendetta or something. Moving right along.
On Saturday we hiked Thumb Butte. It even rained a little bit and after I yelled "WHO IS THROWING WATER AT ME" I remembered that sometimes when weather happens, rain comes down from the actual sky and makes the ground wet and stuff. Science.
Then we went into town and the fair was happening again at the Courthouse. I suddenly realized I have never been to Prescott when there is not a fair happening at the Courthouse. What does this mean?
MOLLY'S TAMALES, WILL YOU MARRY ME
"OMG. OMG. OMG. Take my picture."
Then we saw this, and it's like, what's living if this doesn't happen every now and then, you know?