16 July, 2007

Lake Tahoe (West Shore=Best Shore)

wow. you know, when people mention california to me having both mountains and large bodies of water, nothing but indifference filters into my noggin'. i've been there several times and they were all enjoyable. san francisco, santa cruz, boulder creek, yakima, mission viejo, rancho santa margharita (sp?), irvine, los angeles, orange county, fresno (yikes!), bakersfield (double yikes!!) but nothing moved me more than the california-side of lake tahoe. now, the hype equals what i'm witnessing. it wasn't at all what i was expecting, and, as usual, it was my beautiful wife melissa who got the ball rolling for this holiday.
let me say, there's a mental tranquility about road tripping in a quality, reliable auto. between the two of us (melissa and moi), we've procured some fine, european rides. for instance we've owned an ml 430 , an s6 avant, and an a6 avant. the mercedes was fine except when the power steering pump shi* the bed in glenwood (via aspen); and other than making freshly squeezed lemon juice, the audi s6 was, at best, adequate. the a6 gave me the littlest grief. when it was running on all 5 pistons she roared like a finely tuned, turbo-charged lion, but i would never have trusted it on a trip outside of colorado. okay back to the point, melissa has owned one 4runner previous to her current 4runner and it's nothing but uber-reliable (like the way i juxtapositioned a deutsche term referring to a japanese auto?). 100+ temps in nevada with 4 bikes, 5 hominids, and everything but the kitchen sink inside and out she kept delivering whatever our right foot wished. great ride, inside and out.
we (in-laws included) could've done it on a single trip but with kids we split it in two days. it's about 1000 miles, one-way.
the first night was in ely, nv. where, incidentally my son's big toenail fell off. enough said. we arrived in tahoma (sandwiched between meeks and homewood) early evening on the 5th, in time to enjoy a wine and cheese tasting at our b and b. i probably embarrassed melissa since i was so hungry it became a wine and cheese sam's club buffet for my starvin' marvin self. we met some interesting characters there. first was an entrepreneur named john (and his wife) and a workhand at the b&b named skip. john was the gregarious, mild dosage, know-it-all, dude dispensing his biased information useful or not, completely unsolicited to anyone willing to listen or not. if you would've asked him a question he would've pontificated a dissertation free of spite but dripping of sanctimonious testimony. argh. i smiled, but inside my tympanic membranes were self-perforating. what put his karma in check was my son mason taking his daughter's, abigail, playthings and making her cry that annoying i'm-really-not-hurting-cry-but-some-enabling-parent-please-help-me-beaugard-my-erstwhile-playthings-from-this-y-chromosome-possessor cry. yeah mason (okay, i'm supposed to the good parent?)!
once we check into our cottage, bob (my father in-law) and i check out homewood for groceries and bask in the newness of being somewhere completely different. in town, i buy a duvel ale for later consumption with melissa for celebratory purposes. if y'all have never drank any trappiste ale concoction(s), truly you're not putting/using your olfactory bulbs to full use (it's like the volume control knob going to eleven versus ten). if you're a beer snob, you drink it in a proper belgian, wide-mouthed ale glass, wide enough for this unfiltered nectar made from monks to exhale. i'd drink pbr in a pinch too, so don't think i'm a beer snob (okay, i am). here's a picture of the interior of our "cottage". pretty isn't it? obviously the snow picture is of said cabin's exterior except in the winter.

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