Sunshine and Shit's Creek

Yesterday was bright and beautiful, the first such day since Tuesday. We needed - I mean desperately needed - to get outta the house and into the sunshine. The only time we've been out in days was late Friday afternoon when we fought our way through bumper-to-bumper ski weekend traffic in a 2"-per-hour snowstorm to do errands. That was more an exercise in sitting on pins and needles than it was enjoyable, so it didn't really qualify as "going out".

Mrs. G came up with a plan - "Let's go take pictures!" so, after a relatively minor hour or so of clearing the previous night's spit 'n sputter of 6 inches of snow, we did. She took the photo below. Scene is looking eastward from just west of our airport. On the left is Martis Peak (8714'), in the Carson Range spur of the Sierra Nevada. In the center is the Truckee-Tahoe Airport, known to locals as Cocaine International for its main incoming cargo. This is a big resort/party area. See its runway cam. The green building in the lower left is a beer distributor's warehouse, some kinda American goat piss.

Click photos to embiggen

Part of the joy was getting away from the madding crowd, so we drove out to shit's creek to do all this, which luckily for us is right in town, at the end the tourists don't go to. Think I'm kidding? This is a mile from our house:



Getting to where that sign is was more exciting than you might imagine. We came to the intersection of the side road it's on and Mrs. G gleefully announced, "Let's go down that way! Hang a left!". Now, there was some dry pavement about but we weren't on it, and I was smokin' along waaaay too fast, maybe 20 MPH. In retrospect, where a lot of common sense resides, I shoulda slowed to a stop, backed up, and made the turn. But noooooo...

I hit the brakes and turned left. The truck skidded on the snow, followed by a lotta sawing-at-the-wheel and crossing-of-the-wrists that woulda made a dirt track racer proud, a short corrective 4-wheel-drive power slide (front wheels pull, rear wheels slide, different than a 2WD rear wheel power slide, which woulda put me in the ditch) and I was pointed where we wanted to go just like I had planned it. Whole deal took about two seconds. I didn't do it on purpose, just had a brain fart, but truthfully, shit like that is fun. There wasn't any danger at all, no cars within a half mile, nothing to hit.

Just as an aside, front-wheel-drive cars work pretty good in the snow, but a skid in one of those is the weirdest feeling in the world. The front wheels try to pull in the direction you have them pointed, but there's no control of the rear end at all. It goes where it wants to and sometimes the front end is pulling and the rear end is free-pivoting even faster and they pass each other up. Studded snow tires are a big help on those.

The dogs liked the ride too. Tami looks very princess-like, as usual. Maggie ducked when she saw my camera. She either doesn't like papparazzi or, more likely, she's got a warrant out on her somewhere. Maybe she was just bobbing for a used kleenex. Heh.

Then again, maybe they were thinking, "He left the keys! Please, O Merciful Dog in heaven, opposable thumbs! NOW!".



I made an executive decision on the way home and decided we should get a take-out pizza and Mrs. G, who has a drinking problem in that she only gets a cocktail about every two weeks, could have her Cactus Smoothie, rocks (the only way this joint makes 'em), no salt, while we waited. I mention the Young Gentlemen's Drinking & Fighting Establishment known as the Blue Coyote a lot in the Brain, so I thought I'd give you a glimpse of it via my new pocket camera. The screen is very small and I have a little trouble seeing what's on it so I just pointed it at a light source and fired. I have no idea who that lady is, but she and her companion were diggin' inta some good-lookin' plates of food. Lady, if ya see this, please come sign a release.



There's a Blue Coyote in Squaw (Olympic) Valley too, but that's a more genteel and upscale place and the joint's kinda uppity. Carpets. Ours is a 'bar & grill', theirs is a 'sports grill'. Maybe it's just that they don't haveta hose it out every morning like they do ours. Just kidding, they appeal to a young crowd on weekend nights and I'm sure they have their moments, but they're nice places. The last joint that was in ours had its own Sheriff's Deputy outside on weekend nights. They would rotate in and out as 'passengers' needed transport.

We had a very pleasant afternoon and we needed one. Mission accomplished.

The upshot of the week:

The pups and I spent the week outside. We all plumb wore one another out. This is me'n Tami watching Press The Meat in the guest bedroom (I can smoke there and Mrs. G is watching wrestling the Daytona 500 in the living room. Don't worry, F-Man, there'll be no 'surprises' from the doggies when you get here. Heh.) a little while ago. Maggie was here a few seconds earlier but she skedaddled when the camera came out. I don't know what's up with that girl.



I think I've hit on the plan of the day.

I hope y'all didn't mind this slice of the lighter side of our life. The best side.

Honest, I'll just do it 'til I need glasses update:



I decided the the only snow relocation I had to do today was cut access to that trash can so Mrs. G doesn't have to put the 'gift bags' from walking the pups in it via the 'Magic Johnson method' any more. Done. Took two minutes. She's pretty proud o' them three-pointers though...

Why is the garage door propped open? It's hard to open when it's all they way down. I'll get around to fixing it any day now for about 25 years.