"Something good is going to come from this."

 

Continuing our nomadic ways, we are housesitting in South Lake Tahoe. This wonderful house overlooks the lake. Out the front door are acres of trails, where we enjoy walking with the lovable, furry Ely.

In January, we are moving to a condo, also in South Lake, a house-swap for the whole month.

We've been planning this time in Tahoe for a while. So imagine our surprise when we went to Heavenly Valley Ski Resort to buy season passes--and were told we were three days too late. They'd stopped selling season passes. We were stunned. For the amount we wanted to ski, daily passes would cost an arm and a leg.

We asked to see a supervisor, pleading our case that we'd been visiting Heavenly's website for months and had seen no notification. He said sorry, there was nothing he could do, but he gave me the number of his higher-up.

On our way to the car, I said, "Dave, something good is going to come from this."

That's my mantra when things don't go as planned. I used it when our rental house went on the market. I've used it when we are stuck in traffic. I used it when I found out I had a brain tumor.

It's a reminder that whatever is happening isn't the end of the story.

I wasn't sure I believed it in this case, though. Heavenly is owned by Vail Corporation. I don't care what anyone says but corporations are not people.

As soon as we walked out, I left a message on the higher-up's voice mail: I'm a writer. I'll be writing about our time in Tahoe. Friends of ours are coming to visit who'll be buying day passes. It will be good for business. There was no warning about the deadline. Please have some compassion for our situation. Yadda, yadda.

I texted Suzanne, the woman we are housesitting for who's a big skier. She texted me back, "Well, maybe you could get passes at Sierra-at-Tahoe. It's not as close, but I love skiing there."

Sierra-at-Tahoe? Why was that familiar? Oh yes, we'd never skied there but we'd seen our favorite band play there a couple of years ago. The place was charming. I'd love the feel of it. It was small, tucked away, more of a local's resort. We'd been so Heavenly-focused (for the ease of location), we hadn't thought about that. Yet would it be a pain to drive 30 minutes to ski?

We walked around town and popped into the Visitor's Center to browse. I mentioned to the young woman behind the counter that we couldn't get Heavenly passes.

"You should go to Sierra-at-Tahoe!" she enthused, adding that she worked there for eight years and loves it. She whipped out a map of the resort, excitedly talking about her favorite runs.

Seemed like a thumb's up from the universe to me.

I had such a good feeling about Sierra-at-Tahoe that by the time the higher-up called me back, I almost hoped he'd say no.

And sure enough, he checked with his higher-ups, and there was a consensus: They didn't want our business or our money.

Dave went onto the Sierra-at-Tahoe website. Their passes were half the cost of Heavenly's!

And get this: We have good friends who will be skiing at Squaw in January. We were hoping to join them, all the while knowing we'd probably be paying a lot to do so. But our Sierra-at-Tahoe passes include two free days at Squaw!

The drive to Sierra-at Tahoe was easy. We immediately loved skiing there. There's a low-key vibe. And the runs are really, really long. Like over a mile. So fun.

It's funny. With big things--like my brain tumor and losing our house--I really did believe that something good was going to happen. That the journey would be expansive. But with something small, like this ski pass thing, I wasn't so sure. But that what a mantra's for: to interrupt a habitual pattern of thinking that doesn't serve you.

It serves me to believe that life is an adventure. That what's around the corner isn't determined by what's right in front of me. That whatever I face, something good can come.
 

"Where do you live?"

 

...is the question we get asked most often, along with its cousin, "Where are you from?"

"We were living in Santa Cruz before we became nomads," we sometimes say.

Or:
"Half the year in Mexico, half traveling."

In a way, wherever we are at the moment is where we live.

When we set out two years ago to live this version of life, we weren't totally sure what it would look like. That's still the case. We make some plans, the days unfold, and eventually the dark road ahead gets illuminated with our headlights.

Since we left our little casita in Mexico in April, we've spent the night in about twenty different beds, living wherever we are.

When I look at what we've been focusing on, I can see what our priorities are.

Family and friends



Meeting Miles for the first time, in L.A.

The boys help Uncle Dave blow out his birthday candles.

Visiting my 91-year-old piano playing Aunt Ruby.

Lunch with my cousins in the Bay Area, cooked by my chef cousin Clay.

Hiking in Tahoe with Candis, Rob, and Holly.

Sister Sue and bro-in-law Dan.

My niece Hailey's 8th grade graduation.
 

A few days with Lee in Sebastopol.




Kari, shocked by my book.

We met up with a lot of Dave's buddies, like Sango, at High Sierra Music Festival.




Music festival clan!

Activities



Watching Dave's college buddy's son playing first base, in Nor Cal.

Hiking in San Francisco's McLaren Park.



Tahoe, on a friend's boat.
 




Rafting on the American River with Candis and Laura as our guides.

Animals

Run, Lola, Run! Lee's pup.

A little love from Marge, our charge in Santa Cruz during a housesit.

Maya. We took care of her during a Berkeley housesit.



My cousin Jennifer's cat, Posey, named after the SF Giants' gem of a catcher.

Dave captured these pelicans in Santa Cruz.

 Music

 

Bonnie Raitt in Santa Cruz

 

Ike & Martin, Tahoe

 

 

Roseville Moose Lodge...these young women did a killer "Me & Bobby McGee"!

 

 

 

Hot Buttered Rum in Santa Cruz

 

The Nibblers at High Sierra Music Festival, Quincy, California.

 

Robert Randolph

String Cheese Incident...my highlight.

 

The Waifs

California Honeydrops
 

And best of all: making our own music around the fire pit in So Cal.

 

How about not "Where do you live" but "What do you love?"

 

Thank You for Everything, Tahoe

Once again, the end of an era nears. After four months in Tahoe, we leave soon. That's the life of nomads: embracing change.

Even though it's the end of April, this morning looked like this:

 And it's still coming down. Who knew we'd be gifted a few more ski days?

During our time on the west shore, I finished the first draft of my memoir. It's tentatively titled The Footholds Will Appear: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit and Travel.

The title comes from these lyrics by Hot Buttered Rum, words about trusting in the journey:


We could fall away from here 
But I have faith that the footholds will appear…


Speaking of that band, they played a free show at a local ski resort. We danced for hours in the fresh air with our friends.

Those friends were among many visitors who have come to stay with us. We had a blast teaching our friends' kids how to ski.

Dave and Johnny

I became fast friends with eight-year-old Olivia. We skied together, and she drew a charming array of pictures of me involved in a zillion different activities! Although if you look closely, you can also see one of Dave swimming with dolphins.

In addition to lots of skiing...

Steve

Scott and Nikki

Kelly & Terry

Elise, Steph, Nevin & Daddy

 ...everyone enjoyed the hot tub...

...and walks in the forest and along the lake.

Mel and me

Nevin, Lilly & Jimmy

Dave demonstrating the fine art of rock skipping.

Several times, we took the hike up to Eagle Rock. It was a great family adventure.

K-Shak family from So Cal

MO-minksys, also from So Cal

In Tahoe I've also been coaching writers online. After years of being a writing teacher, I'm especially enjoying giving feedback without grades!

One of my clients is a doctor. She has a great way with juicy details. Nothing like time in a hospital to gather great material. Recently she wrote this to me:

I appreciate your kindness in delivering constructive tips. I think I was a bit terrified to open the files and read your response. In fact, it turned about to be enjoyable and totally pain-free! I found myself comfortable hearing your advice and even wanting more! The suggestions are fantastic and leave me with much to think about and practice.

I smiled over the idea that someone who regularly deals with life and death situations had been "a bit terrified" about my feedback! I think that means she cares a lot about writing. It's a pleasure to work with her. I'm certain her work will be in book form in your hands one day.

I'm sure mine will be too--hopefully by next year. Soon I will be sending out my manuscript to five writer friends. I know they will all give me great tips for revision. For at least a month, I won't look at the book so I can come back to it with fresh eyes.

In the meantime, I will cherish these last days in the mountains. Next up: California, Hawaii and Utah National Parks. Keep shining your light, everyone!

with Lola