Our Sierra

If Pablo Neruda was right, and laughter really is the language of the soul, then spending a Tuesday night at the casino might actually save you. Every Tuesday, Tahoe Comedy North dishes up the funny in the Crown room at the Crystal Bay Club. I was skeptical that stand-up comedy could rally the crowds in Tahoe, but the room filled just as the host warmed up the mic, and the performers kept the jokes rolling from 8–10 pm. I have to admit that the opening comedian had Lis, Sue, Jim and I all squirming in our seats and glancing for the closest exit, but the following act and the headliner raised the bar significantly. Except perhaps for the old folks in front of us that maintained their stoic and disapproving demeanor throughout, headliner Adam Richmond had the room in stitches. Either the guy in front of us didn’t have his hearing aid loud enough or the drinks got stronger toward the end of the night, but I thought the jokes were funny. (It was probably both.) There’s just something remarkable about people who can remind you that even in Tahoe, we can take life way too seriously sometimes.

After the show, Sue split to tend to the kiddies at home and the rest of us grabbed a late night $1.99 breakfast at the Biltmore. For $2 the breakfast never disappoints, but I would probably skip the $4 milkshake next time. The night wouldn’t have been complete if we didn’t stop by the roulette table on the way out. Lady Luck was with us again and I tripled my minimum buy-in. I must confess that I lost $20 on roulette since the last time I blogged, but it’s way more fun to write about the winning moments.

Another great evening out, and we were in home and in bed by midnight. I’m not sure we found salvation, but it felt good to laugh out loud.

Smile — we live in Tahoe!

It’s hard enough working inside at a computer on a 60-plus-degree, bluebird day, but it is downright torture to be sitting here recounting the glorious time we pent-up office women here at TQ just spent out reveling in the prime weather. When my iGoogle weather widget told me that today would be so sunny and warm, I immediately declared it an office-wide picnic lunch day.

Since our ski lunch a few weeks ago at Diamond Peak, we’ve been craving therapeutic fresh air and activity to break up the workday. So around noon, girls and dogs all piled into two cars and headed up to the Mount Rose summit. All snow-booted up—except for poor Nicci, shod only in tennis shoes because we kidnapped her on our way out—we headed up a roughly packed sled run. The tumbleweed-like bundle of dogs defied gravity, somehow rolling and tackling each other up the hill. We came out atop the ridgeline on a nice, boot-packed trail.

The going was easy until I decided to lead us along the scenic route. Barring a few trap doors, the snowfield crossing was relatively firm. We came out on a sunbaked slope peppered with warm boulders and patches of sand and brush peeking through the snow. The view was spectacular and the entertainment unparalleled. There are few things more hilarious than a dog gang in the psychotic throes of a snow high.

Belly rumblings reminded us it was lunchtime. Elaine V. pulled out her bento box packed with brown rice, edamame and egg rolls complete with mini condiment dispensers and tiny utensils. Lis snacked on her veggie sushi, and Elaine D. demurely crunched crackers while Nicci and I mawwed through our sandwiches.

With the sun starting to burn our pasty winter complexions, we turned reluctantly back. Trekking back through the ever-softening and aptly dubbed (by Elaine V.) “memory foam” snow left us with enough snow on our cuffs to drag a little hint of nature back to our desks.

As I sit here typing, I can still feel the slight burn on my cheeks, the warm tingle in my quads and the mountains calling me back. And the only reason I am back inside, staring whistfully through the glass, is to share this moment with you. So grab anyone who is looking a little droopy and get out there already!

Besides being talented, smart and ridiculously good looking, we at Tahoe Quarterly also pride ourselves on our big, generous hearts. Which is why Lis, Nicci and I walked over to the Incline Village fire station to donate blood today. I’m totally kidding—we went for the free donuts.

Anyway, it was a fine enough experience, at first. The nurses were all extremely professional (which I always imagine is hard when you have to ask every person about their drug sharing habits with prostitutes in third world countries). I do, however, prefer blood drives in Pennsylvania, where someone always dresses up as a blood droplet, looking like a giant red Hershey kiss.

It was Lis’s first donation, so Nicci and I waited until she had the needle in her arm to talk about donations-gone-wrong—veins that can’t be found, sadistic nurses, etc.

As the veteran blood donors, Nicci and I finished first, pumping it out quick and painlessly, then walking over to the snack stand to load up on carbs and fluids. Which is where I started feeling kind of funny. Suddenly I wasn’t in my chair anymore, but on the floor staring groggily at the ceiling while two men stuffed pillows under my head.

“So is she the first one to pass out today?” Nicci asked, and I was not proud to hear that I, indeed, was.

Regardless, drained and embarrassed, it felt nice to do a good deed. Luckily, the Tahoe Basin has plenty of other opportunities for those looking to volunteer. There’s the Bear League in Homewood, the Boys & Girls Club in South Lake Tahoe and Kings Beach, Project MANA in Incline Village, and numerous other foundations and community support networks surrounding The Lake. So whether you are helping the poor or unconscious on your back in a fire station while someone named Todd tries to get your blood pressure under control, please enjoy your service, as it makes our community a better place.

What is an average Tahoe winter? Statistically, that’s an easy question. Concerning snowfall: 8 feet by February 1 at Tahoe’s lake level; 11 feet by March 1; and over 14 feet by April 1, the day that statistics predict the deepest snowpack in the higher elevations.

But in my mind, the character of the winter is more important to its “average-ness” than any statistic. When you compare winters, did the inches of snowfall translate into bottomless powder days of skiing or riding, or did they dribble in mixed with rain? Was there in mid-February an incredible week of spring temps that produced corn snow, quickly followed by a bonding series of storms and two weeks of deep powder? This is the season’s character, and it tells more than statistics.

Out of the Tahoe winters I’ve known, the two from 1981 to ‘83 are instructive of averages. Everyone talks about the winter of 1981–82 because of the Alpine Meadows, Jakes Peak and Freel Peak avalanches, but the next winter, ‘82–’83, had almost the same amount of snowfall. The way I experienced them, things were rolling along in more-or-less average fashion in ‘81–’82 until late-March, when the heavens opened up and dumped 19 feet of snow at my West Shore home. The next winter, it seemed to just piddled all the time. Sure, we had a few good powder days, but the continual gray skies made ‘82–’83 much below average.

This winter, the snow clouds of late-January finally ended what had been a statistically dry year, putting precipitation totals at or above average in most of the Sierra. And on the whole, at mid-season, this winter feels pretty average; in other words, the conditions are great, with a handful of memorable powder days. After all, one’s memories of an average year may be anything but average. And at Tahoe, average is plenty good!

One thing I might remember about this winter to date is something my fellow TQ blogger, Alison, points out: It has been damn cold. There were multiple minus-zero nights at my house in January. The average low for Tahoe during January is 19 degrees, so it’s not like it doesn’t get cold at this time of year. But it does seem to me that during recent winters we’ve seen more storms head straight south from Alaska than in the past, rather than traveling West to East. At times, the jet stream has zig-zagged north and south across the continent like the switchbacks of a mountain road. Is this part of the unpredictability of global warming? How should I know?

Even if global warming, for some perverse reason, brings Tahoe more cold, dry snow, it still sucks. But then again, my mantra is: Enjoy the present.