And I'm not even going to tell you what we think it actually looks like.

Last Thursday, we stomped around our old stomping grounds and hiked up to the vag Horsetooth. We collected shiney rocks in the parking lot for 45 minutes, then TJ made us start the finger-swelling journey. After first hiking up a service road, we found the real trail. Only at the end, when we were shaking hands, did we realize how well voices carry up that mountain. Sorry to everyone who had to listen to us for those 3 hours. (But also, you're welcome). Then I made BAB laugh really hard by walking funny as we complained all the way back down to the car, where stinky TJ was napping. Thanks, Fart Collins, for another good good day.