Jesus Christ. It's like this wussy little 4-day work week was so slighted by how completely and totally amazing our magical holiday weekend was that it decided to be the biggest shit in the history of the universe. So.

When I think of the last weekend, a warm, cozy glow washes over me and I nearly wince against the memory of the sun hitting so much white, can almost hear and feel the slushy crunch of snow under my boots, can feel M's big, warm, fingerless-gloved paws against my torso as she catches me when I slip on an unsteady swath of ice (and her smile when it happens), the delicious bite of big mountain wind in my hair as I soar float down a tree-lined, twisting run, trying to catch up with her. The work week is all but washed away, and my mind sets on plotting how long before we can go back (21 days exactly).

Here is a wood we came across. Tahoe City has some nifty little walking bridge, and that's where we were trying to get but stumbled instead into a park-like area with a Gatekeeper's Museum and a little red shack to show you where the Original Fire House once stood, with ominous black bear painted cut-outs from particle board placed here and there.

It was beautiful. Even though footsteps had worn a clear path out to the clearing of soft, untouched snow that had fallen over the rocks or sand or both of the Lake Tahoe shores, only a few imprints were visible past a certain point. First I ran and then trotted and then walked briskly out toward the water, turning back often to check on M, who kept snapping photos and gingerly stepped through the snow, laughing.

I found a snowman missing its face, and tried to give some of it back. A long, skinny finger of land or dock stretched way out into the freezing cold water, and I wanted to walk to the end of it, but M hollered at me not to. Too dangerous. I stopped and flopped down into the snow, sunk down half a foot, and began to flail around the way I imagine people do when making snow angels (which I have never done), to make a snow angel.

M caught up with me and doubled over like she was having a fit and then told me my snow angel was the worst one she's ever seen, so I threw some snow at her and made a beeline for the trees.

Anyway, you can't imagine how beautiful it was there, unspoiled and hushed and lovely. These pictures of the scenery hardly do it justice. If we weren't expected back at the cabin, we probably would have found somewhere to nap like real bears.

When I woke up today and peered through my blurry Valentino glasses to search for my contact lens case, panic set in. I knew I only had one lens left, and if anything happened to my last pair, scarcely hanging on by a thread, I was screwed. I hate wearing glasses, I hate the loss of peripheral vision, I hate how wobbly and unsteady I feel in them. I ran my hands over the bathroom counter, over sticks of eyeliner and tubes of lipstick and sundry palettes, and gasped as they met the little cage that is supposed to sit immersed in some sort of fizzing disinfectant solution overnight, every night. It hit me.


My eyelashes might be longer and thicker and darker, but I was stuck in my glasses half the day today because by morning the contacts had shriveled and dried into a cloudy, brittle mess. I had to make an emergency eye exam appointment (as it turned out my old prescription expired last September) and sweet talk them into giving me a trial contact lens (to go with the orphan lens) on the spot, and praise Dolly they did.

So the rest of the day went. The free lunch at work was so-so, but a coworker gave me some Tcho chocolates. I ended up working very late, but scored $300 of Banana Republic goodies for less than $50 at their last chance sale. The sitter was late picking up the petite, but we had delicious Italian delivered and I carried my stinky fathead puppy around for awhile, like a baby. There might be two suns in 2012, but Mexican CNN has naked chicks, so it's all evened itself out, hasn't it?

Corduroys: Levi's Sweater: Target Boots: Vintage Foxtail: Dollywood Bag: Freebird by The Sak Cocktail Ring: Banana Republic