Yesterday we flew to SFO, then drove to Tahoe.

There's a reason we didn't fly directly to Reno/Tahoe.

The reason being free tickets.

There's a thousand feet of snow on the ground.

Spent the night unsuccessfully gambling with college pal, Greg.

Kept saying, We can't stop playing this game, it's doctor-poet recommended!

I punched Greg every time his birthday didn't come up in roulette.

Greg begged me to stop playing his birthday.

Afterward Greg and I had a difficult time finding the house because all the street signs are under snow.

We called it the Night of Defeat.

I called it the Night of Defeat.

Greg argued that since we did eventually find the house, we weren't truly defeated.

Spent the morning arguing with Gideon over the need for layers.

The idea of wearing two pairs of pants offends his sensibilities.

It doesn't help that one of the guys we're sharing this house with is prancing around in his shorts.

I'm staying in a house full of dudes.

Even the dog is a dude.

The dog's name is Tucker.

I am not going to the mountain today.

Or tomorrow.

Or Wednesday, or Thursday or Friday.

Today I'm staying bed, reading and writing.

It's what I'll do tomorrow.

And Wednesday, and Thursday and Friday.

I'm wearing the fuzzy purple socks Phatback gave me for Christmas.