Inklings of Destiny?

A year ago, my wife and I were talking about places to which we might like to move. We tossed around the notions of North Carolina, Virginia and Vermont. Essentially, we wanted to find a place where we could afford a good-sized plot of land for the dog; somewhere that was developed, but also had breathtaking natural settings close by . . . and, of course, somewhere with better drivers and less pride in mediocrity: the anti-Rhode Island, if you will. All those afore-mentioned states seemed like viable alternatives, but there was one other place that I couldn't help but feel drawn to explore: Boise, Idaho. Why?

Well, a state capital city must have at least one decent restaurant and movie theater. It's near the Rocky Mountains, so it must have some decent hiking trails. Land must be rather inexpensive, because whom the hell do you know who has moved to Boise? And, it might not be so developed that I couldn't successfully open my dream business of a coffee & t-shirt store.

Nary did I know that there was something else about Idaho that was the biggest deal maker of all. Nary did I know until just this morning, in doing some research for today's posting (which was supposed to be about car spacing through traffic lights) that my wife and I might just be cosmically linked to a future in Idaho. What is this factoid that has me fantasizing of calling the moving company this week? Here you go.

In all fairness, Rhode Island has improved (formerly, annually ranked last), but still very much sucks. And New York, don't think I haven't noticed your position. I'll get to you in due time, you slow-passing, blind spot lingerers.