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eagle rockwinter tomorrow

It’s so sad to see the deciduous trees lose their leaves (well, they actually don’t lose them but push them off says NPR). Check out the same view off Eagle Rock, taken a few weeks ago and this past weekend—brings a tear to the eye doesn’t it?

Yet fallen leaves take on a life of their own for a brief few days, and I was lucky enough to catch some flanking the lakeshore on Saturday.

a fall shoreline

Yet with the departure of those fall colors we love comes the white stuff we love even more. Skiing is much more fun than tromping through leaves. (Though I would have to argue that raking leaves is more fun than shoveling snow.) Enjoy the last few days of the season!

the scene of the crime

I think my new house is trying to kill me.

It all began on Sunday morning when out of nowhere, as I went to grab a towel from a bucket on my bathroom floor, the slanted ceiling jumped out at my head. Five days later and I’m still feeling the post-concussive syndrome. Don’t worry, I finally went to the doctor and he saw nothing too amiss, but I cannot exercise (no walks even!) until the symptoms reside.

So pardon my silence on the blogosphere, but my home got me good.

the gang

Oh the joys of my work as an editor… this week, I’ve been on the phone with Tahoe athletes vying for a spot in the coming 2010 Winter Olympic Games in Vancouver. And while I’ve been trying to figure out how to list all their accomplishments in a consistent manner, and checking the writer’s stats on all things Vancouver, I got a little sidetracked today with what I deem to be the best entourage of mascots to come during an Olympics of my lifetime.

Yes, I said it. I know I’m an Atlanta native, but what the hay was up with Izzy? And Torino’s Neve and Gliz, female and male snowball and ice cube, were equally disturbing. But I am totally enamored with Vancouver’s batch, especially Quatchi, a sasquatch hailing from the “mysterious forests of Canada” who dreams of becoming a hockey goalie.

I mean, does it get any better than this?

and quatchi sticks the landing!

Yes, it does!

they love long walks on the beach too!

and triple-seated biking

Learn more about the mascots here; they have their very on interactive webpage, of course.

images © VANOC/COVAN

looking out into the wild

For a Tahoe girl, I am pretty soft core. Though I can fairly adeptly carve my way around the local ski resorts, I’ve only backcountry skied twice. My boyfriend’s sport of choice, rock climbing, is my nemesis (we’ve climbed but once together in the some two years we’ve been a pair). And though I’ve certainly hiked up a few peaks, I had never “backpacked” into the woods until last weekend. (Yep, this is true. Blame it on Georgia if you will.)

We ventured into Desolation Wilderness, the 63,960-acre wilderness area right in our backyard, per say. We were the lone campers at Half Moon Lake, and scrambled cross-country up Jack’s Peak. I’ll spare you all the John Muir details—my pictures can speak those thousand words of beauty—but I will let you in a few things I learned about being a backpacker:

1) To state the obvious (as I did on our journey), cross-country hiking is way harder than straight-up trail hiking, and hiking with a pack is way harder than hiking without one.

2) Never ask passersby how far it is until your destination. It’s a total gaper move, says Chris, inquired by minds who are fixated on the end not the means that a true outdoorsman or woman cherishes. Guess who pulled that move?

3) Pooping in the woods is liberating. Yet don’t forget to bury your treasure.

4) Cooking and cleaning at camp is like being 7 again. Remember all those cute little kitchen sets? The thrill of “making” something? It all comes back again when you’re preparing packed-in food on a teensy stove with tiny pots and utensils.

5) Tea tastes better in the woods. It just does. Who knew that I would like chai without milk and sugar?

Ok, now to the good stuff, the pictures that do my work for me:

A map of where we were. I put a star at our camp.

A map of where we were. I put a star at our camp.

chris @ our lakeside campsunset through the tent, nothin like going to bed earlyour camp chipmunk, who ate 1.5 broccoli stemsview of half moon lake and dicks peak from jacks peakscrambling up the peak

happiness is a warm pup

Is your dog this happy? And adopted? Then enter him or her in the Humane Society of Truckee-Tahoe’s photo contest for their 2010 calendar. Dog(s) must be pictured livin’ the good life in the Truckee/Tahoe area.

Email entries to dale@hstt.org or click here for more info.

And speaking of calendars… since no one can have enough of them (especially those gifted from insurance companies), I suggest you run over to Cute Overload and get yourself one of their handy desk varieties. Not only do I religiously rip off the old date each morning to unveil the latest cute animal surprise, I save every single one to use as scrap paper and for projects (like Chris so craftily did for the best birthday wrapping paper ever).

So my first Reno Aces game last Thursday was uh-mazing. Why? One word: Archie. Sure, the new ballpark was great and the game was exciting—especially when the Aces rallied to score 4 in the fourth inning—but the amorphous mascot took the cake.

Maybe I am just a sucker for furry animal-like creatures, but I loved  him, despite the fact that A) I have no idea what sort of creature he is B) his girations and oversized tongue weirded me out. Anywho, here’s a detailed account of the craziness that ensued:

It all began when I saw his first major dance sequence above the home team dugout. He had moves, bumping his belly around to the music, shakin’ his red fur and playing air guitar with his roll-out tongue. We asked a security guard about Archie’s species, “What is it exactly?” His reply: “No one knows.”

archie in full swing

We then ran into Archie up by the Refreshments and stopped for a few photo ops. As you can see, we bonded right away—we even have the same smile and gestures!

luxurious fur, check. squeezable tush, check.fraternal twins

If I wasn’t already smitten, the deal was sealed when the sixth inning rolled around and Archie plopped down in a seat in front of us. A chatterbox, the red guy just kept bringing the hits, one after another in his high-pitched raspy voice.

excuse me, I can't see past your big furry head

But it didn’t stop there. Oh no. Another mascot, a UNR Wolfpack member, jumped into the mix.

my new neighbor

And this guy was serious about one thing: cutting Archie’s hair (don’t ask why). Comb and scissors in hand, the silent wolf began his style session and things got out of control practically on top of my lap. When the scissors fell, I grabbed the opportunity to conjure up my own inner stylist.

chop chop

But when the next booty-shaking song came on, Archie was gone again, out of our section and up on his dugout stage. And though the Aces didn’t pull through for the win, I think you’ll agree it was an epic night.

Yep, I’m another year older. Just so you don’t miss out on the fun that was my birthday, here’s a quick recap of the weekend.

Friday morning: I wake up to the best wrapped present ever, from Chris.

dying to know what's inside? though i guessed a kitten, it was not

Then, it was on to kayaking and paddleboarding off Sugar Pine Point.

the water is so blue!

chris is the tiny speck in the middle left of the photo

Saturday was River Prom, an annual Truckee River float in formal attire. EPIC

this ain't seaworld... it's as real as it gets!

Saturday night we camped at Lover’s Leap, then climbed the next day. Here I am on Pop Bottle, clinging for dear life. SO HAPPY to say that I totally enjoyed the experience in the end. (For those of you who don’t know: rock climbing was formerly my nemesis, taking me out for a summer after breaking my ankle on this very same route.)

somebody help me!

<THE END>

Yesterday, I got a phone call from a concerned friend: “What is up with your picture in Moonshine Ink?”

Yesterday also brought an email from another concerned friend: “I saw your article in Moonshine, it was good. You need a new photo though, it doesn’t look like you. Aren’t you a model???”

And they weren’t alone… just straws that broke the camel’s back. Thus, I promptly called up my friend and photographer extraordinaire Ryan Salm (look for his new blog soon) for a quick photo session. And voila, no more hideous self-portrait. I hope you enjoy its debut in my upcoming column, out July 16. And I hope this means no more complaints…

out with the oldin with the new

life is good

ahh… the Fourth of July. While droves of tourists are traveling miles to lounge by the lake, and throngs of lake locals are traveling miles to get outta town (many I know to the High Sierra Music Festival), I have decided to stick around. And there’s no better way to spend the weekend than with the wind—no plans, no need to go anywhere or do anything (except work on that never-ending timeline feature for TQ).

Today’s breeze blew me into the Allen family boat, all the way over to a cove on the East Shore. 7 friends and 2 chihuahuas (the non-yippy kind) = happy.

can't you tell sid is having the time of his life?