What a waste of a beautiful day. Today was sunny, it hit 70 degrees, and I worked 10 hours. Blarg.
Way back when I was in elementary school at Bryant, my principal enacted a "no shorts unless 70 degrees rule." I've pretty much stuck to that rule my entire life (except when playing sports), and I don't think I'll ever forget waking up and rushing to the TV to see if I could wear shorts to school that day. If it was supposed to be 69 degrees that day, I didn't think I could wear shorts. Looking back, I'm sure my parents teased me mercilessly about this, but I was always too grumpy to notice.
On the 70 degree or higher days I would proudly put on my shorts, slap on a T-shirt, and start to beam with that happiness only a kid can express. I'd take that first step down the front stairs and I'd feel the bearable temperature on my exposed arms. It wasn't 70 degrees at 8:50am, but it was bearable in a shirt. And if it was bearable in a shirt, I knew it would be 70 degrees that day.
Flash forward to this morning, and the walk out to the car I've become accustomed to--the "oh my god it is so cold I can't wait to drive two miles so the heater will come on and I will be warm again"--was replaced by the, "hey, what am I doing with this sweatshirt on?"
I get to work and we just get slammed right out of the gate. We don't get slammed, we get body-slammed... no, we get suplexed... no... no, we get Zangief 360 piledrivered (piledrived? piledriven?)! I don't know who's brilliant idea it was to TRIPLE BOOK on a fucking MONDAY MORNING, but I wasn't happy. My sweatshirt usually comes off at lunch, when I can grab the appropriately colored scrubs shirt from my car to match the color of the day for all the other employees (you try being colorblind, forgetful, and having to choose from teal, blue, light something, and purple at 8am in the morning). I had to run to my car at 9am this morning, because the heat, combined with the piledriver, had me nearly in a sweat.
It sure felt good outside though. I knew it was going to hit 70, even though the weather report only said 67 degrees for the high today.
I get back into the office and see the mass of people waiting to see Dr. Orr. They aren't happy. One lady ended up having to wait 90 minutes to just get called back from the lobby to the waiting room. That's not very good. The reason? A bit my fault, but also a bit THE COMPUTERS WERE SCREWY because of a system upgrade.
I'm all for system upgrades, progress--usually a good thing. Not today, apparently. I couldn't log on, my computer ran at about 1/4 speed, my computer crashed five times, and I couldn't print. All combined, that makes it very difficult to check people into the system. Hearing what a beautiful day it was every 5 minutes didn't make my life any more cheery.
I got lunch, I took it, I enjoyed it; but I knew I'd be working at least 9 hours today with all the system slow-downs. It ended up being 10 hours, because a lady who was supposed to get us charts at noon had to be reminded by yours truly at a quarter to three.
As a third party, I probably would have laughed when she wheeled around in her chair and said, "Oh... the charts, I totally forgot about those. Where are they?" And her co-worker pointed to them on the floor, in the middle of the room. Those charts didn't get to us until 5pm.
I ended up just thinking "beer. beer. beer. beer. beer. beer." from about 4pm on, so on my way home I picked up a six pack of Newcastle and I'm enjoying my second right now. This is officially a two-Newcastle post. I have no desire to make it a 3-Newcastle post, but I do like the idea of measuring posts by alcohol consumed while writing.
Fortunately, the day is close to being salvaged. I realize that although I was cooped up in a clinic all day, at least I did something. If I had been unemployed and played on my computer out on the porch all day, I'd be more depressed than I am right now. Newcastle, an outlet, and watching the sun go down tend to bring me out of a funk pretty quickly. Unfortunately, it is starting to get cold out on the porch, and me thinks it is time to pack up and move inside.
"Well, this one's right up there," said Colin Preston, crime scene investigator for the Reno Police Department.
"What do you mean?" asked Karlin Wynne, rookie investigator.
Karlin could smell the carnage before she walked into the room. This was her first murder scene, and she had been preparing for this site her last two years of school. She would not be the girly investigator who threw up at the first site of blood. She had intentionally focused her studies on some of the most gruesome cases to prep herself for this exact moment.
She stopped for a second in the hall outside of the taped-off room. Karlin closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and ducked underneath the yellow police tape.
At first, it looked almost exactly like the "Valentine's Day Massacre" she had seen so many pictures of. Then she inhaled, smelled the defecation mixed with blood that had been sizzling in the windowless room all day. Karlin quickly turned to the door and barely made it into the hall before discharging her lunch all over the tarped floor.
"Damn it, rookie! You just cost me $20!" Colin said with a smile, "I haven't seen a person, male or female, who hasn't given up their last meal to their first murder scene. They tell you briefly about the shit smell, but they don't make you smell it. If they made you smell it in the Academy, that'd save us a lot of tarp."
Karlin spat, then wiped the side of her mouth with a clean section of the tarp.
"We'd also have a lot less cops," she said.
"Yeah, you're probably right. Didn't think of that. You ready to go back in there? This might help," Colin said as he tossed her a mask.
"Where's your mask?" she asked.
"Oh, it's not so bad," he said with a smile.
Karlin acknowledged the ribbing with a huff.
"I've done my analysis, let's see if you can figure out what happened," Colin said.
Karlin got up and ducked back into the room keeping the mask at her side. She scanned the room while holding her breath. Six bodies. Five along the far wall and one in the middle of the room, holding a sub-machine gun in his right hand.
Karlin exhaled and attempted a breath, but the stench made her eyes close shut and her muscles tighten--like a bee caught behind your glasses. She just wanted the stench gone, so she rushed to put on the mask.
"Still with me, rook?"
"Looks like a murder-suicide. Execution style. He lined up the five guys, made them face the wall and get on their knees--then he went at it. Realized he wasn't getting out of this one, and turned the gun on himself."
"Not bad. Not terribly difficult, but that's pretty much the gist of it. How'd you figure the suicide?" Colin asked.
"The sub in his hand pretty much won me over on that one," she with a "duh" attitude.
"That it?" Colin pressed.
"Is there some other reason you think..." and Karlin was interrupted by a quarter-sized splat of red and pink on her mask.
"Did you look up?" Colin asked.
She tilted her head up and saw a splattering of blood and brain bits clinging to the otherwise clean ceiling.
What a weekend! I crawled out of bed just before 7am, grabbed my ultimate stuff and a banana, then headed off for Sacramento.
A pretty drive through the Tahoe forest and two hours later, I arrived at the fields. Roxie was the Tournament Director for this tourney, and since we're friends she put me on her team. We ended up having a super fun team, and we weren't half bad either! We ended up winning all three of our pool games, which matched us against the #2 seed from the other pool in the semi-finals.
The semi-final game really could have gone either way, but I wanted to play in the finals BAD, and ended up giving a Patton-esque speech to motivate the troops. We ended up coming back from a 1-3 deficit to win 11-7. I threw lots of swilly (poorly thrown, float down into groups of people instead of going to the person you mean it to) hucks (deep throws), but we had height and hops on our side--and my teammates saved my ass on numerous occasions. It was money.
We made it to the finals against the other undefeated team of the day, and we ended up just getting worn out. I think the final score was 13-9 them. We were ahead at the half 7-6, but just ran out of gas. I was just happy to play in the last game--the sideline crowd was rocking and heckling intensely, which made for a very fun playing atmosphere.
The funnest point of the tournament for me had to be the first point of the finals game. We decided to do a spirit point, where everyone had to hold something the entire point. Many people opted to run around with their nalgenes (the smart people), others chose beer (the awesome people), and yours truly? Guesses? That's right, I took a live-action video of the point!
*edit* argh, it seems the video is 4mins and 369mb, which is too damn big to upload--I'll try to edit it and get the file size down so I can upload it later.
Unfortunately I played terribly in the point, throwing 3 or 4 turnovers (not good!), but I did get a bit of jawing with the sideline in, as well as a D, and getting to talk about Josh's mom, forcing (?) a turnover. Oh, and I got to pull the disc!
Here is a new flickr I made, with photos from the tourney. There were a few awesome hats I just had to get pictures of.
Mid-way through the Finals game I started losing vision on the left side of my left eye, which has happened a few times before. The last time it happened was running too hard at frisbee as well. The time before I was driving to Sacramento in 100 degree weather with no AC. Apparently losing vision isn't a good thing, and is a trait of heat exhaustion. I ended up crashing for a few hours, not really able to do anything but just lay on the ground (or couch).
Luckily, I started feeling better, and took a shower at Roxie's. We ended up having another game night at her place. We played some charades, and Connor and I rocked the question-giving. Some of his good ones included (remember, this is charades) "Explosive Diarrhea" "Ron Jeremy" "Basic Instinct" I was thinking along very similar lines with "Dick Tracy" and "Porn Star." All five were guessed, but "Explosive Diarrhea" had to be passed once before someone got it. Luckily for me, I had some of the easiest ones to act out, including "Madonna" and "Moscow."
We also played drinking Candyland (so potent for a children's game), and we also played this very funny, very fun game called "Bunnies." I found the explanation on Katitude's blog, and here is the instructional video of how to play:
The video is a bit over-the-top at points, but the game is great fun. Especially played with happy and exhausted frisbee-ers. I think it took us a good 10 minutes to get more than two passes in before someone had to drink.
Headed back to Tahoe this morning and, besides the eyelash digging into my left eye the entire trip, it was a nice drive. Made it back to a sunny and 60 degree Tahoe, which feels a lot more like 70, because it has been so cold recently (also because I'm a bit sunburned from yesterday). Here's a picture of me where I'm blogging from this afternoon:
Wireless internet, out on the porch--the only thing missing from the picture is a nice, cold beverage--but I've had enough of those for one weekend. How do you like the summer do? Shortest my hair has ever been!
And what blog post is complete without a picture of my cat and his new catnip toy?
Plan, I think, was to have fun with nataure, then go hot tub, then sleep.
Acutal--fun with nature and ichi, then hot tub with Dirk, then come home to beer. pong.
I decided to play the "fuck you youngsters, I'm the beer pong CHAMP!" bitches
Reminded me a big of the one time I was in a frat--sigma chi beer pong night?
Except this time, instead of losing to Stacey, Tessa, and ???, I fucking proved it, and kicked ass. Kristara and I kicked ass, and beat the champs, then we won another game, then I decided guys vs. girls was the name of the game, and the guys kicked the girls ass. They had to drink lots off beer, and we won, and now I'm trying to get some sleep for frisbee tomorrrow. Smart? nope! fun? heck yes!
After I polished off my Newcastle, I set off on my second nature trek this week. This time Ichi came along and helped me track the elusive Tamias umbrinus. We intended to capture (a photo of) the beast in his natural habitat.
Now, before you say, "Walking your cat? Isn't that a bit weird?" My backyard is a veritable Chuck E' Cheese for cats. There are rodents scampering around, birds swooping down to catch the rodents, and grizzly bears swatting the birds out of the sky. I would also like to point out that Ichi is no ordinary cat. And I have photo-evidence:
Ichi is either a dog pointing me in the direction of the elusive beast, or he is a damn good actor. I scanned the area Ichi was pointing at, but didn't see any animals. I did, however, see this weird looking rock:
We climbed the hill through the trees, and I was quite impressed with Ichi's rock-climbing skills. I'm not sure where he practices, but he's not far behind Chris Sharma. Ichi led most of the way up the hill, but there was no sign of our beast. We decided to turn back about 3/4 of the way up the hillside. The peak was in sight, and is my goal for hike #3--but Ichi started panting. Good dog.
He doesn't like being called "dog."
Here are a few pictures from the point we decided to head back home, starting off with the goal for Nature Walk #3:
Unfortunately, even in the national forests, there is quite a bit of trash, which both Ichi and I disdain.
We made our way back down the hill, when Ichi suddenly caught sight of something! I fumbled to turn my camera on and zoomed appropriately for whatever Ichi had caught sight of... unfortunately, it turned out to be his own shadow. Which he promptly attacked.
Just when I thought all hope was gone for this trip, Ichi's ears perked up one more time. He ran off, but when he heard the blood-curdling roar, he quickly hi-tailed it back to me:
I caught sight of something moving in the distance, and decided to stand my ground. I zoomed as far in as cameranly possible, then, from through the trees and behind a huge boulder it appeared...
Tamias umbrinus... and I was staring straight into its unmerciful, cold-blooded eye.
Ichi didn't even bother chasing the elusive rodent.
When we got back to the house, Ichi plopped down and promptly turned the lights out:
Got off work 3 hours early today on a beautiful, sunny Friday afternoon. I kicked around the soccer ball with Hector while I was still on the clock. That guy has some soccer-hacking skills, he can bounce it from his left shoulder to his right shoulder and back again. He'd do some crazy move, then pass it off to me, and I'd kick it into a car on accident (or just miss it completely), then pass it in his general direction.
It was awesome!
After getting off work early, I headed to the store and bought some chicken tenders, jo-jo's and a six-pack of Newcastle. Talk about a good trip to the store! The Newcastle was even on sale!
"Everything's coming up Milhouse!" --Milhouse
I come home to a loving Ichi and sit out on the porch with my little buddy. We eat my chicken tenders and jo-jo's. Ichi doesn't get any of my Newcastle, but he's happy and I'm happy.
Immensely looking forward to tomorrow and the Sacramento frisbee tourney. I'm a bit worried that my ankle will re-sprain, and I'll be forced to watch from the side-lines. But even that isn't so bad, so really all signs point to having fun in the sun. Then we'll no doubt head to Roxie's for another fun night of cards or some sort of games that involve drinking--EEE!
Nothing sounds better to me right now than going on Nature Walk #2, so that's what I'm gonna do! Meeting up with Dirk tonight. We're going to drink a beer or two, trespass into a hot tub somewhere in the Friday night madness, and get psyched about tomorrow.
Expect some pictures from the nature walk and the frisbee fun~
For fun, why not? I've always said, and will continue to say, that the millions of possible ways I choose to live my life I will be happy with. A world traveler? Making a living being a photographer for swimsuit calendars, or living from bank-heist to bank-heist--I have very few regrets once I actually decide to do something.
Deciding is the hard part.
I can list the truly difficult decisions I've had to make in my entire life on one finger. I have much more practice keeping all of my possibilities open.
Get good grades in school and do well enough on the SAT so I can get into a college of my choice, check. Graduate college so I can get a better-than-minimum-wage job, check. Be a nice person to most everyone I meet on the chance I run into them again, check. And... that's about as far as I've gotten.
As a single, nearly 25-year old, half-decent human being-- the world is my oyster. I can go back to school, I can travel, I can do just about anything--but WHAT DO I WANT TO DO? Where do I want to be 5 years from now?
Well, here's the current answer:
--I want to be living in Seattle, preferably not Greater Seattle, but Actual Seattle. --I want to be in love with a witty, intelligent, sporty, family-wanting, friendly, optimistic and nerdy woman. Possibly working on starting a family, but that would have to depend on the situation (I've always thought between 30-35 would be a great age for having children--but my Dad was 40 when he had me). --I want to be teaching middle school or older, or at least make a serious attempt within 5 years. I kick fucking ass at temping, but I want to make more of a difference. And I want benefits. --I want to be active. This could be riding a bike to and from work; playing in various city-league sports teams; playing ultimate; coaching youth sports. --I want to keep my great friends and add a few more, to have an amazing network of friends to grow old with.
I could just end up being a perfectly content hobo in San Francisco, who knows--but the above is what I've got my eyes set on right now. Also, who knows about kids? The more I think about it, the more I would like to have kids, but I also realize how much of a life-changer it would be for me, because there is no way in hell I'd ever be a bad, neglectful parent.
So, where do YOU want to be 5 years from now? It doesn't matter if you already have children, or if your future is as uncertain as mine, I'd love to hear it. Heck, even if you love where you are right now, and you just want things to keep being perfect let me know...
(so I can punch you in the face! hah!) (also, feel free to put *do not make public* if you just want to tell me without telling the world, and I won't publish the comment)
When I'm driving I usually zone out and begin hopping from thought to thought like a connect-the-dot puzzle. Every so often though, I'll pause my hopping around and wonder how much thought is happening within a one-mile radius, maybe a 10 mile radius. I did this a lot on my drives to and from working at Zeek's pizza on Denny Way in Seattle the summer of my sophomore year at UPS. There were just SO many people driving within a mile of me, I could barely fathom the amount of conscious thought going on so close to me.
So, today I was stopped at a light on my home from work, my thoughts hopping around. I saw a raindrop on my windshield, and it hit me again. I wonder how many people in Tahoe just saw a drop of rain, and completely changed their mood, or even changed their plan for the evening. I was thinking about tossing the frisbee after work with a few people from the pickup ultimate group, but the weather forecast called for "isolated T-storms," and I was in my work shoes. I was leaning towards not playing anyways, but that raindrop sealed it for me.
I smiled. There seems to be an amazing majority of people in California who simply cannot handle rain. I freaking love it. I love Seattle because it fits me so well. It rains a lot--so I can play my games, watch my TV, and lounge my ass without feeling too guilty, "it's raining, I obviously can't go running today." But when it isn't raining in Seattle (which, contrary to popular belief, is quite often), I am extremely motivated to be outside--because I know the rain will eventually come, and I'll get to rest then.
When it rains for days and days, some people get tired of it, not me. I get restless laying in my bed staring out at the rain, wondering how Ichi can possibly be happy lounging around all-day, every day. That's when I say, "Hey, it's only rain," then go running anyways. I think my most memorable runs have been in the rain. The run I remember most vividly was on a rainy night in Tacoma. I had been writing a paper (I forget the subject) for about two hours, and I was bored. My writing was terrible, and I was getting sleepy watching the rain fall outside of my 4th floor window. After realizing I had only written two lines in the last fifteen minutes, I decided to go for a run.
I remember a fairly brisk, rainy October night. I ran past the rotunda and down Alder to the top of the 30th street hill. Instead of going down towards Old Town, I just kept going on Alder--which turned into a very nice, very hilly residential neighborhood. I walked down the hill, just one block of it, and turned around. The hill looked pretty menacing from here. Not long--just one street block, but it probably gained 75-100ft of elevation. I ended up sprinting up that hill six times, walking down in-between sprints with my hands on my head, letting my thoughts go crazy. By the fourth sprint I knew I only had a few more left in me. After the fifth sprint, I knew I only had one more run in me, and I should probably start thinking about my writing assignment. By the end of the sixth sprint, I knew the perfect way to finish the paper.
*getting even more rambly*
What makes people do what they do? VT guy? George Bush? You? Your best friend? Your S/O?
I overheard one of my roommates talking about her "stupid" math professor, and how all of the answers were so obvious. A mirror image of me in the same class years ago, she didn't see why she had to prove how she got the answer--she got the right answer, why did it matter how?
I'm finally understanding that the Why? has EVERYTHING to do with it. I grew up thinking that the "effort" grade was only there to keep more kids from failing. I played all the sports growing up, and only the bad kids got praised for their effort. It's the cold, hard truth. I got praised for my effort almost every at bat in little league, and (outside of T-ball, I was a T-ball ALL-STAR!) I was either the absolute or second worst hitter on the team.
This is one reason why I want to coach youth sports so much. I want to say "nice effort" to every kid that gives a nice effort. The overweight kid might have thrown the bat into the stands on his swing, but he gave a healthy effort--"Nice effort! What a swing! Look at the outfield backing up after they saw how far you threw that bat!" The little MVP of the team just made a spectacular diving catch--"Nice effort out there! Way to grab that ball!"
I took a shower last night and was thinking about how my dad absolutely could not stand sports growing up. He had prejudices against the people who liked to play sports. Some of his prejudices were valid, others were not. It wasn't until I started growing up, that he finally got into sports. I've loved sports my whole life, because I've played them my whole life--and I've had such amazing parents to point out the goods and the bads along the way. Some of my dad's prejudices were valid, there are some "terrible sports" out there, who are taught from an early age that winning is everything. Their dad's are the coach, and they get to play the most, score the most points, and have the biggest egos in the gym. They don't pass the ball to you if you can't make a shot. Basically, they make the game no fun to play.
On the other hand, there are so many more "great sports" that I have met and learned from.
Bad Sport: "Hey, didn't she just drop the last 5 passes we threw to her?" Good Sport: "She's never going to catch one if we don't throw the disc to her." BS: "She won't drop one if we don't throw it to her, and we'll win!" GS: "Who cares if we win? She might as well pull up a chair and start sun-bathing if we don't ever throw it her way."
My mom grew up playing lots of sports, and is a pretty competitive person, but is also a very good sport. Competitiveness and being a good sport are two things that often clash. I love soccer, but watching players fake injuries is just about the worst thing in sports for me. There is only one referee on the field, and he's got to watch all of the 22 players at all times? Impossible. Making his job harder by faking an injury? Ugh. I am glad that my mom never sacrificed being a good sport to win. What also helped is that my dad was learning the games with me. He always had a lot of questions to ask or things to point out. My parents were also always great listeners when it came to my youthful tantrums.
I'd be mad because I didn't get to play in the final inning, when the game was tied:
M&D: "You played great today, you made a couple of great catches at first base--that one you snagged out of the dirt saved your team at least one run, probably two." Me: "So why didn't I get to play the last inning?" M&D: "Your coach has got to be fair to everyone on the team, you got to play 4 innings, just like everyone else on the team."
Of course I'd then get mad and start slamming doors. It must have been hell raising me, but it's good to know that at least some of their wisdom got through to me.
It was fun to see my dad's eyes light up at the positive things he never realized about sports. He loved watching me play basketball. The first three years I played basketball at Rav-Eck community center we didn't win a single game. Not one. And we still had a blast. We didn't have a single good player on our team, nor did we have a coach that allowed kids or parents to put down others. It didn't matter to us that we weren't winning, because nobody made it matter. Winning was so foreign to us, our enjoyment of the game wasn't winning, but rather the possibility of making just one single, solitary 2-point basket. When that magic moment came, the five of us on the floor would high-five, our parents would leap out of their seats and cheer wildly while fireworks blasted and parades roared--then other team would of course race down the floor and hit a layup. We didn't care--we had just scored! Party Time!
Watching my face when the bad side of sports happened was also very helpful for me. He'd watch something that he always thought happened in sports while he was growing up--like a father yelling at his son for missing a shot, or not passing the ball at the right time--and my dad would just look down and shake his head. Those were the reasons I'm sure he never really wanted to play sports, or probably didn't want his kids to play sports.
I remember him telling me a story when I was probably in high school. He said he got his growth spurt in high school, and was nearly 6'5" by his senior year. Because he was tall, he was recruited to play various sports, including basketball. He didn't think this was very fair to the kids who had been playing basketball all their lives. I was 13 at the time, and he said, "Never in my life have I been able to shoot the ball the way you can. But because of my height, they wanted me on the team. I told them I hadn't played, and I was no good, but they didn't care."
Of course, once they found out that my dad was telling the truth, and that the ball hit him in the face more than it hit him in the hands--they cared. And cut him.
When I was growing up, I don't think there was a single more-exciting time for me than 30 minutes before a basketball practice or game. I would get super jittery and I'd be bouncing off the walls. We'd head up to Andrew's house to start the carpool, or over to Tyler or Trevor's house to pick them up for the games in North, South or West Seattle. We'd have on our little matching uniforms with a big winter coat over the jersey.
As we got older, the excitement didn't fade. I'd drive my big Dodge Ram van around and pick up Tyler, Andrew, Trevor, Ray, Chris, Noah and whoever else could fit. We blasted Dr. Dre and Eminem. We'd show up to practice and just have a ball for an hour. Winning obviously didn't matter in practice. We didn't play high school basketball and nobody was getting cut or benched for missing a basketball or throwing the ball away. Andrew and I constantly tried to perfect our pick and roll. I'd always try to pass the ball through a seem too tight, and Tyler would invariably pick it off for the steal. Ray would practice taking the charge and flopping onto his back with an "Ahh!" and a thud. Noah would practice trying to put the orange ball through the hoop.
Even now, with no real friends in Tahoe, the Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday pickup basketball sessions at Kahle Community Center are highlights of my week. I look forward to each day I play. Sometimes I'll play great and catch fire, other days I can't hit the broad side of a barn. But I always have fun, because I can always run (minus sprained-ankle days) and play defense. I can always pass the ball to someone who actually is having a hot shooting day.
I just realized why I like basketball so much. Each and every time down the floor is unlike any other. It is like a new Spring every play. Nobody cares or remembers who won the 4th game of the day last Thursday. It doesn't matter that Dave just made a 3-pointer over your out-stretched arm. Now it is your team's turn. And in basketball, the score is so high that one mistake isn't going to ruin your team's chance for victory. Even at the highest level of basketball there are probably hundred's of mistakes for each team every game, for the simple fact that you have 5 people trying to play together cohesively, and that isn't easy. But, the fact that so many errors occur, makes it a game that has the possibility to create a friendly, understanding community. Everyone makes mistakes.
There are asshats out there, and they can quickly ruin a friendly game, but I've also had some pretty amazing moments of humanity on a basketball court. Including an entire team kicking their best player off their team because he wouldn't pass the ball; Ballers sticking up for little(weak) guys, then the little guys making the winning shot; and even douche-bags realizing how their actions are making them become someone they don't want to be.
Enough writing for one sitting, time to go to the gym and shoot some hoops (and not re-sprain my ankle)!
1) How do I create a title for each post? In years past, it seemed like the title was just the top line of my post. Now when I make a post, the title just seems to run on forever (ex: I'd like the title of this post to be "Blogging Questions" not "Blogging Questions 1) How do I create...")
2) When seen at home on my laptop with firefox, the links show up on the upper-right portion of the page. When I view my blog from work on Internet Explorer, the links don't show up until the very bottom right. I know where the html code is in the template thingie on blogger, but I'm not sure how to always keep it in the upper right (no matter which browser is viewing the page).
3) My posts are usually photo-ridden, is there a way to cut down on the number of posts per page? This might be an easy one I can look up myself, but my pages are REALLY long right now, and tons of pictures load that people will rarely, if ever, check out, because they are so far down the page. I think keeping maybe 3 or 4 posts on the front page would be a good number?
4) Picture fun. I actually sort of like the huge pictures I put on the blog, but I don't really like it when the pictures cover up the links. Also, sometimes I would like to size-down the pictures a bit.
5) Frames. I've never been good with frames in html, but I have a wide-screen monitor, and the text of my blog only takes up about 1/3 of the page at most. There is a lot of blank space when I have the window full-screen. The narrow column makes for easy reading, which I like, but I'd either like to make it a little wider, or add some of those nifty freeze-frames, which allow me to keep two background images on either side of the text frozen (not tiled).
Any help is appreciated! I'll be looking into solving these questions myself too, so this post serves as a friendly reminder to yours truly as well as a cry for help to all you blogger-savvy friends of mine out there.
Not being able to play frisbee this weekend would suck. I've been looking forward to this weekend of frisbee since the DUI tourney in Davis about a month ago. Looking forward to taking some more photos like these:
Tony was the big loser at poker night last time I was in Sacramento, although we both lost a big pot to Melinda, who made Tony stand on top of me, while I still had to hold my ear from a previous bet. He eventually wound up wearing not only flamingly red lipstick, but also "Halloween Orange" nail polish. Of course they both had to stay on the entire next day at the frisbee tourney, which I'm positive contributed to our big win.
Oh yes, how could I forget the cape I was forced to wear by Roxie (or was it Melinda? I seem to have a hazy memory of that night). The cape proved handy when I drunkenly started betting clothes... but yes, looking forward to some frisbee on Saturday!
Instead of ballin' it up, I went for a little walk in the national forest behind my house. Ichi lasted about 20ft, then scampered back to the house to stand guard. I walked past the new home being built, and found myself in an open area in the forest. It seemed a bit odd to have a gap in the middle of a forest, but then I saw a chimney. No fireplace, no house--just a chimney. It didn't really seem photo-worthy at the time, but it was probably the oddest part of the trip. I'm guessing a fire burnt down the house, and left the cement-block chimney standing? It looked like a fun rock-climbing problem if it is still sturdy (which I didn't check). Next time...
I continued past the non-existant house and found a little trail that doubled as a property line for multiple houses. This is where I met my first obstacle in my journey--Mr. Squirrley:
Where he got the peanut from, I have no idea. I didn't think Tahoe had any animals that laid peanuts, but apparently I was mistaken. Besides the dive-bombing blue jays (more on them later), Mr. Squirrley was the only animal to approach me on my trek. When he heard me coming he actually sprinted towards me (unlike all the damn unfriendly chipmunks--those tiny punks can go to hell, I got about 15 great pictures of dirt because they scampered away at the last milli-second). Mr. Squirrley perched up on a nice little stump for me, then did a few poses.
Eventually, he realized I had no food. As nice as Mr. Squirrley was, I thought he might offer me his peanut, buuuut he just ran off into the forest behind me.
I continued on my newfound trail and it eventually met up with Martin Rd. I saw a car drive past, so I turned around because this was a nature hike. Two blue jays found me, but were darting around just as fast as the chipmunks--so I failed to get any blog-worthy photos of the winged beasts.
**Goal for next picture-taking trek through the woods is to get pictures of both a blue jay and a chipmunk. I may have to resort to baiting them with some Ritz crackers, but they'll get their cameos in this here blog, mark my words!
Growing tired of missing shots of blue jays and chipmunks, I decided Martin Rd. was where the million-dollar photos would occur (they sort of had to, by default). I hopped off Martin Rd. after about 50ft, and saw a relatively steep road that looked like it might have a good vantage point of the lake. It was appropriately named Zephyr Heights Drive, so I felt good about my chances. Also, behind a tree hid a pretty large gate that deters motor-vehicles in the winter, which just had to mean this road got pretty hairy:
The road was definitely steep. Maybe not as steep as some of the Sand Point roads I'm trying to get Tessa and Jrad to bike up in Seattle, but it had me straining. The pain was worth it though--when I got to the top I was treated to some gorgeous 180 degree views of the lake:
The ferry was a neat shot, because I could see just about all of the lake from up there, and the only ripple in the lake was from that one ferry. I was speedily snapping pictures of the lake, when I guess I ruffled some feathers:
This guy and his friend hopped up to the top of that tree overlooking the lake, then they dive-bombed me. If I had been a skilled photographer, I would have had a couple of amazing pictures, but sadly this blurry one was all I got:
I took the hint and got away from their nest, wherever it was, and decided to walk a bit further on Zephyr Heights Drive. To my surprise, I found a little bird convinced that he could fell a tree:
I liked his attitude. He could tell that the telephone pole was not an ordinary tree, and he was determined to knock that sucker down. How houses got built in a National Forest in the first place has me shaking my head a bit, but if I was a bird, or a bear, or a chipmunk, I'd be pecking/mauling/nibbling at every man-made thing on my land too. I wished the little guy luck, after he was kind enough to let me snap about 100 photos of him. I was trying to catch him in a good action shot, but that guy's wings moved so fast all I ever got of him were still shots of him just sitting there pretending not to be knocking over the telephone pole. I finally just settled on a video.
By this point, my camera was starting to fill up, and I was getting thirsty, so I decided to head back home. I was strolling down the steep hill to the tune of a few guard dogs howling at me, when I caught a glimpse of them stuck on their porch, and just had to take a photo:
They were cute, and just doing their job, so I didn't have any hard feelings.
I got back on the property-line path and two magnificently blue, blue jays trotted out to greet me. I went to go take off the lens of the camera slowly, and the birds kept their pose. I raised the camera slowly and tried to snap a quick picture, but they zoomed off and I'm pretty sure I heard blue jay laughter as I checked out my nice dust picture on the recall function of the camera. I'm almost positive they were the two blue jays from earlier on the path, who kept escaping my shaky hand. I gave up quickly this time and walked hastily back to the house.
I entered Ichi's "kill zone" about 20ft from the house, and gave a little peace whistle to Ichi, letting him know I was friend, not foe. I got a high-pitched Ichi meow in response and smiled to myself. I walked closer and slowed down, expecting Ichi to jump on me from behind one of the many parked cars in our driveway, but I saw no sign of him.
Then a piercing howl came from 10ft above my head:
Ichi in a tree again--you wouldn't think I'd be surprised, but I honestly was surprised to see how high up he was. He was probably a good 15-20ft up. I'm not sure if he chased a chipmunk up there (I hope so, damn evasive chipmunks!), but Ichi was very hesitant on his descent. I ended up flipping an empty garbage can upside down, and raising it as high as I could so he could jump onto it, then be lowered safely to the ground--but I'll give you a second to figure how that actually turned out...
Not as intended, that's how it turned out.
Ichi bounced off the garbage can and did a triple sow-cow from about 10 feet up, bounced when he hit the bed of rock-pebbles, then darted away. He was healthy enough to snipe some of the turkey in my sandwich 5 minutes later, so I think he's alright.
Last week Jen, Forrest and I were chilling by the fireplace, watching a movie and playing on our laptops, much like any other night. The snow was just starting to fall and the wind was picking up. It started gusting and shaking the house (we have no insulation), and Jen started to freak out a little bit because she thought she saw something through the window.
"It's just the wind," I said confidently.
"Actually, no. There is a bear on our porch." She said matter-of-factly. Then she realized what she said, and freaked out even more.
Forrest, the burly lumberjack that he is, rushed to the door and opened it a crack while roaring at the bear. I didn't actually get to see the furry beast, but they both said it was a fully-grown brown bear. I thought that maybe they were trying to pull a fast one over on me, but the next morning's trash can proved otherwise!
So, the bears are waking up apparently! Ichi is in a perpetual state of shock when he is outside;
He pretty much follows me around anywhere I go when I'm outside and close to the house. He freaks out though, and hops up trees and up onto cars to get a good vantage point in case the bears try a sneak-attack. The bears struck again last night, and our non-bear-proofed garbage was strewn all about when I left this morning. I cleaned up the last bear attack, and I was late for work, so it was somebody else's turn. I got home from work and cleaned up what was left of the mess (thanks to Kristara for cleaning up the rest!). Ichi and I then walked around a bit and I had to snap this picture of our soon-to-be neighbor's house:
It is almost a mirror image of the place I'm staying in. Hah! I wish, ours is about a third of the size, we have no heat, and we're out of firewood. We are easy pickings for the bears. Wish me and Ichi luck in the next few weeks~
Lots of things to update: sports, ankle, poker, Stacey, blogging...
This weekend started out a lot of fun. Got off work on Friday early and remembered to use up the rest of my $10 iTunes gift card from my sister. I had my eyez set on "All Eyez On Me" the two-disc compilation by Tupac.
I don't have enough good rap, and what's better than some of Tupac's best? I smoked a blunt and listened to the rhymes of Tupac while catching the first game of the Red Sox/Yankees series (OK, I don't smoke, but it just sounded right). Now, I'm not the biggest fan of watching baseball on TV (or in person, for that matter), but watching the Red Sox and Yankees play is always a good show. Their rivalry is right up there with any rivalry in sports. I root for the Red Sox primarily because I can't stand the Yankees. When you have an unlimited budget, and it seems like half of your team is going to the Hall of Fame, where is the challenge?! Now, the Red Sox aren't much better, I'm pretty sure they are the 2nd biggest spending team--but the only reason for that is because they are trying to compete with the Yankees.
The Yankees had the game in the bag and Alex Rodriguez had hit two more homeruns to add to his amazing April. The Yanks had their Hall of Fame closer, Mariano Rivera, in to close the game out, when the craziness started to happen. Boston scored five or six runs in the bottom of the 8th inning to come from behind and win the game. Feeling good about the game, I decided to go hot tub down in South Lake, then head to the casinos to play poker.
The hot tub was empty, and I soaked in the tub while contemplating writing and life. I keep having ideas for characters to base a story around, but whenever I start writing I get all caught up on the background--which doesn't make for very entertaining writing. I'll have to work on just diving in and writing the entertaining parts, then weaving in the history as I go. While contemplating life, I decided that I'm pretty sure I want to move back to Seattle come November or so. It could be earlier than that, it could be later, but I don't really want to miss out on friends and their lives anymore. Knowing that I'll be leaving Tahoe then also impresses on me how important it will be to soak up all of Tahoe while I can. That means lots of hiking, lots of swimming, and hopefully lots more pictures :)
I started to prune in the hot tub, so it was time to move on to the casino. The obvious problem being, 'how do I change out of my swim trunks?' I ended up parking in a dark and gloomy corner of the casino parking structure, where things much worse than getting naked had been going on. I looked around and didn't see any movement, so I wriggled and squirmed out of my trunks (which is much harder in a car seat than I thought it would be), and into my strategically placed shorts and warm-ups. I got out of the car, pretending like nothing sinister had occurred, and of course the first thing I see is two people in a mini-van right behind my car staring at me. I quickly break eye-contact and head to the poker room.
I check in for $3/$6 limit (in my comfort zone, money-wise) and get a seat right away, which was unexpected. After a quick scan around the table, I actually recognized one of the guys at the table, which surprised me. He is one of the better basketball players I play with on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturdays. It was pretty comical, because he sat there with about three buttons undone on his shirt, showing off his possibly waxed chest. He also had a lady caked in makeup on his left arm. If I didn't know he lived in town, I would have presumed they were on an anniversary trip to South Lake... or maybe that he was entertaining a hooker (hope he doesn't read this!). I smiled to myself and pretended not to know them.
Other people at the table included two wiley-looking old asian guys, a college dude, two ladies who were pretty solid players, and a middle-aged guy to my right from Cameron Park, who I chatted it up with. I told him about the Grass Valley music fest I was going to this summer to see Ani Difranco. As soon as I said "Grass Valley music fest" his eyes lit up.
"Do whatever you can to see Tommy Emmanuel."
My new friend was coo-coo for Tommy Emmanuel. I've never heard of him, but apparently he is the best guitarist in the entire world, according to Mr. Cameron Park.
"He makes Eric Clapton and Santana look like beginners."
This, of course, perked my interest. I am intrigued, but he isn't playing on the same night Ani is, so chances are I probably won't stick around (and pay for) another night of music.
The actual poker was pretty uneventful, I got pretty lucky and didn't have many difficult decisions. I had pretty bad cards all night long, but that was fine with me because I just folded until the good cards came. I ended up winning a few big pots, and finished up $86 for the three hours or so I played. Surprisingly, the basketball buddy and his wife went busto within the 2nd hour. I had made a mental note to stay out of any pots with them, because I just assumed they'd be sharks. In their defense, they did get pretty unlucky with a few hands, and that is all it takes to crap out at $3/$6.
I came back to the house at about 12:30am or so to a house full of strangers. But they were friendly, drunk and high strangers, so all was good. When lots of people come over we have to re-arrange the furniture in the living room so everyone can fit in and see each other. This means blocking any route to the kitchen, and I was craving some food, so I hopped over the end of a couch and was treated to a very happy site in the kitchen. Cans upon cans of Coors Light (Silver Bullet!) covered both counter tops. If I hadn't had such a fun and profitable time at the casino, I would have been bummed that I missed such a fun time.
I thought (as did my roommates) that they would have a little drink here, then head out to the other people's house. But Kristara apparently started up Asshole, and was the first president, and was a mean bitch--so she got her comeuppance and everyone got trashed, lol. That would have been a site to see :) I finished some left-over pizza and people decided it was time to buck up and go home. I'm not sure if any of them was in a good state to drive home, but I was in bed and asleep by the time they made it out the door.
Saturday morning was fun, woke up around 11:30am and decided that basketball at noon sounded fun. Grabbed my ankle-brace out of my sports box and wrapped my ankle up good. It didn't feel too hot, but I could always just work out a bit if running on the ankle didn't feel good. Skipped breakfast because I didn't want to run after breakfast like I did on Thursday. No warm-up for my ankle, because when I got to the gym I was the 10th person to show up, so a game started up.
I saw the guy from poker the night before and we had a fun little talk about it. He said he and his wife only play once a month or so. It was nice to finally have a conversation with him (still don't know his name), because we tend to play against each other a lot, and we had gotten into a little argument on Thursday about a crappy call by him (or so I say!). He's a nice guy though, and I made a point to be on his team today.
I'd say my ankle was at about 10%, but we won the first game somehow as I hobbled up and down the court. I was actually skipping most of the time when I changed direction, because I had to use my right foot.
We lost the 2nd game and I was ready to stop playing basketball for the day, but by that time 8 more people had shown up, so we had two games going--and by losing on the "winners" court, we had another game on the "losers" court. So instead of abandoning my team, I played another game... and lit it up! We played a team that didn't have very good defense, and in a game to 11 by 1's and 2's, I made four 2's to score 8 points. I couldn't really do anything but shoot threes, because I could hardly move, so I'm glad they left me open!
Winning that game put us on the winners court again, and my ankle was screaming at me to stop, but I played again because I'm an idiot. We got beat pretty bad, because this team played defense, and I couldn't really play defense. Back down to the losers court for game #4, against the team I lit up. This time they decided to guard me, and we got whooped. My ankle praised Jesus, and I went upstairs to work out a bit. After working out I came back down to the basketball courts and watched as my team (minus me, plus Mike, a cagey veteran) won their game on the losers court, then ended up beating the reigning champs on the winners court. That felt good, because I didn't want them stuck on the losers court all day because I couldn't play any defense! I'll probably take it easy on my ankle this week, because of the Sacramento Hat Tourney next weekend. Can't miss that, so I'll have to miss some bball this week, dems the breaks!
After bball on Saturday I was CRAVING a French Dip. Not sure why, other than I hadn't had one in a long time, and that I skipped breakfast. I hit Sam's Place for the first time in a month, and the food was grubbin' as usual. When I got there, there was a breaking news special about the Blue Angels. One of the planes crashed at an air show in.. Brunswick? I think? That'd be a pretty horrific site to see.
(this clip isn't the crash video, just a random clip of them flying over Lake Washington)
I grew up with the Blue Angles flying around Seattle every summer. They'd do warm-up runs all around the city, flying right over all the houses, inbetween the buildings in downtown Seattle--it was pretty nutty to see. Then we'd watch the show and see the four planes flying literally within feet of each other. I always thought it was extremely dangerous, but at the same time, watching them do it year after year it seemed like they were pretty much invulnerable (and untouchable, because as a color-blind kid, I knew that was something I'd never be able to do). Not invincible anymore :(
One of the other TV's just so happened to be showing game 2 of the Red Sox/Yankees series, so I watched a few innings while I chowed down the dip and spicey (and I mean spicey!) fries. Big Papi hit a two-run shot to put the Red Sox up by 4, so I was content when I left in the middle of the 5th inning (and they held on to win).
I headed back home and thought I might get some Vanguard in with the gang, but it wasn't to be. Played some spades and listened to the Tupac CD again--that CD is where it's at. Had a pretty nutty spades game where me and my partner were at 359 (9 bags) and our opponents were at 473 or so. I was first to act and went double-nill (no passing), because it was really our only hope. I was surprised to see a hand that just might work... although even if we got my double-nill, my partner would have to bid his cover hand perfectly and get no bags, or else the opponents would win. My partner bid 4 and we pulled it off perfectly. No way we should have won that game, but we did!
I didn't have any plans, and was feeling lucky, so I headed back to the casino for the evening. I got a seat right away again, and only recognized one guy at my table--one of the old asian guys from the night before. He ended up leaving about 30 minutes in. The rest of the table was hilarious though. This is what the table looked like:
Seat 1: 23yr old guy who I chatted with all night, lost his first buy-in and went to the ATM and came back saying defiantly, "I'm not going to that damn machine again tonight!" He also was there because he and his roommates were vastly different, much like me. He said, "Well, it is either poker, where I have fun and might win some money, or sitting at home with my roommates who just do shrooms and watch SNL on Saturdays." He used a line I had been waiting to use for some time now--in response to "good players don't (play 7-2 offsuit, cold-call three bets on draws, yada yada)"--"good poker players don't play $3/$6 either!" Which got a hoot from the table. He also had a broken ankle. Mine is just sprained, but eerie similarities!
Seat 2: 30-something husband of Seat 9, good poker player and also a really funny guy. The lady in Seat 8 couldn't stand the guy because she thought he could "look into her soul." He called her down with crap two times and she folded, cursed under her breath, then went on a smoke break both times. He hit quad nines in a big pot where I folded a pair of Kings with a Q kicker on the turn to his aggression. The jackpot was about $150 for his quad nines. About five hands later he hit quad 8's, which only got him the $30 pot, because jackpots were only for quad 9's or better--I didn't feel too sorry for him though.
Seat 3: 40yr old guy with a golf hat. Wasn't very good at poker, but was a jester. He'd show his cards every time and could hardly believe his bad luck when he was behind the whole way. He and I chopped a huge pot in a hand that I live-straddled and woke up with AK, which was his hand too.
Seat 4: 50yr old hilarious black guy. He did pretty well, and had more than his fair share of big hands. Had a cackling laugh, which I usually can't stand, but he was laughing at himself more than at anyone else, so it was alright. He was joking around with me and seats 1, 2 and 3 all night.
Seat 5: 50yr old skinny Italian guy with a hairy chest and an unbuttoned shirt. Not great at poker and pretty quiet all night.
Seat 6: 40yr old guy. First time at a casino, and got a run of cards. Eventually the lady in Seat 9 said, "you never bluff, do you?" which of course got him to bluff in the next hand, like clockwork, lol. He had some pretty funny lines, I remember laughing, but I can't remember any specifics.
Seat 7: 60yr old guy who nothing could possibly go right for. He'd have AK and flop AK, only to lose to a set on the river. He eventually would just look at me across the table and shake his head as he got beat again and again. Apparently he thought I understood his hardship? I did, and I'd be a shoulder to cry on as long as he kept calling when he was beat!
Seat 8: 60yr old lady who had a temper and liked Camel cigarettes. This lady was funny without trying to be. The guy in seat 2 would call her with nothing and she'd fold and go into a tirade, then leave. A few minutes later she'd come back and assure us all that she was in complete control of her emotions, until she lost another hand, then she'd storm off again. We didn't specifically make fun of her, but she was the cause of a lot of the table laughter.
Seat 9: 30-something wife of Seat 2. She was originally from Germany, and she unknowingly hit a straight-flush for a $240 jackpot. It was a pretty ridiculous hand. I had AK in the BB, the flop was T-J-Q, all clubs. She bet out first to act, I called the bet, Seat 2 re-raised, Seat 4 re-re-raised, and Seat 7 re-re-re- raised. She called all the bets, and I insta-folded my now ugly flopped straight. The 8 of clubs peeled off on the turn, and there was a crazy amount of betting again. When all the dust (and the 3 of diamonds on the river) settled, she had the 9 of clubs for the straight-flush, I had the flopped straight, Seat 2 flopped a set of Q's and was hoping to boat up, but folded on the river; Seat 4 had the A of clubs; Seat 7 flopped a K-hi flush (and stared at me after the hand, looking for some hint of understanding, I suppose). Talk about a juicy flop!
Seat 10: your hero!
I ended up drinking seven Sierra Nevadas through the night, and didn't leave until 2:30am. I finished down about $70, and continued my break-even poker playing. A bit frustrating to keep breaking even on weekend treks, but I have a blast, and I'm not losing money, so hey hey!
Got back home and took a fun trip down memory lane by checking out my old livejournal. There are some pretty funny comment conversations back there with Stacey, Tessa, Kristle and other friends. Which got me wondering what Tessa, Brien and Kristle are up to nowadays. I read through some of Tessa's recent posts on her new blog... she's still got it! She continues to write a very entertaining blog updated almost daily, and makes me wish I had kept on blogging (and also motivates me to blog now!).
I wasn't able to find out much about Kristle and Brien. A few entries down in my livejournal were at a really fun and exciting time in my life, when I was just about to move down to Sacramento with Kristle. Kristle, Brien and I had a great time the last few months of college together... then Sacramento (and Japan for B) happened, and I think the bad situation in Sacramento put a hold to whatever friendship we had. Since I'll be moving back to Seattle in November most likely, I spent some time wondering last night what all these old, possible friends are up to now. Anyone know what happened to these two?? Last I heard they were living in South Seattle?
Ended up hitting the hay around 3:30am and woke up this afternoon at 3:30pm... nice! Waking up tomorrow for work is going to suck, ah well.
Had a nice chat with Stacey today about lots of things, including her new relationship with Ben. Not a huge shocker there, and I'm sure they'll have a lot of fun together. Her plan was to stay single for a while, but guys tend to have other plans when it comes to smoking hot, bass-playing ladies :)
Holy crap, 3-hour blog entry! I think I can extend it with a few pictures... time to search!
I was almost tempted to cut out the advertisement in the Tahoe paper I was reading today. A dog grooming service named "Doggie Dews" lol.
Sprained my ankle today at basketball--it was only a matter of time until it sprained again. Think I'll get some high-top basketball shoes soon, because I've been playing so much bball lately--hopefully they'll keep me sprain-free.
We got the coast trip all planned, viva la Long Beach!
So apparently Hannah Teeter had knee surgery between the above gold medal run and now, because she crutched herself into the fracture clinic today. She's pretty much always got a smile on her face, which is an interesting way to live life. I guess if I was in her shoes I'd be smiling all the time too! I didn't realize she won the gold medal in Torino, but I did recognize her from her various X-games medals.
I thought she either had a thing for me, or kept staring at my funny-looking hair cut. Then I did some you-tubing and found out that she's just got a very intense stare and is always smiling at people--oh well! A bit on the young side for me anyways...
Got to talk to Brandon for a bit today on gchat, I guess that anus is getting a free-ride for almost all of the holdem events at this year's WSOP. And I *think* I secured a room in his rented out mansion for a few nights if I come down to visit. Is there a blogger tourney during the WSOP???
I've been on quite the hiatus here, but I'm going to try and hop back on the blogging band-wagon. It looks like my last post was a video of all the snow we got at the end of February in Nevada City. It has been less than two months, but it seems like a lot longer than that for some reason.
The move to Tahoe was a lot of fun, Andrew was in town visiting and we got up skiing twice. The snow was, and still is, pretty chunky. My original plan for Tahoe was to hit the end of ski-season here and possibly buy a spring season pass, but the snow has been so terrible that besides the two times with Andrew, I haven't gone skiing or boarding at all. I was just going to stick around until the end of summer, then probably head back to Seattle... but now I might decide to stay until the end of next winter and buy a season's pass. I'm still undecided, but I'm leaning towards staying in Tahoe a little longer than originally planned.
I've really enjoyed Tahoe so far, I found a job about two weeks after moving... again through a temp agency, but I don't really mind. It is working part-time (roughly 30 hours per week) at a fracture clinic in South Lake Tahoe--about a 15 minute drive from Zephyr Cove. I'm working up front with a couple of older ladies, which is nothing new to me. Flo and Alison are funny, nice and chatty, and I'm usually pretty busy throughout the day, so work goes fast.
Other than making some money working, I've been playing lots of basketball and joined a gym about 5 minutes from the house. There is a nice pickup game at noon three days a week, which I've been trying to make as often as possible. There are leagues too on weekdays, but I moved a few weeks to late to get in on those. I'm probably even-money playing poker in Tahoe so far--nothing new there either.
I'm planning to start writing more, and also planning to take some more pictures--so expect more constant updates in the future.
And finally, I took some pictures at the beach below our house in Zephyr Cove: