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I just watched Seabiscuit with my parents. It's good! It's very good. It's... lyrical, literary. It does feel like a very good adaptation of a very good book.

My sister said she could see why people like it--there's no bad guy. It's a movie full of people trusting in each other's potential and living up to their best. And gee if I don't love it when I can see the person in an animal.

I was dropping off my parents' van (that I used for the Tahoe trip), so I'd be taking my own car home again.

It's always weird having to adjust to my own car again after having gotten used to a different car. The familiar becomes strange again.

I normally think of my car as a pony, or horse. That's what I call it when I'm driving it. "Pony". When I'm low on gas, my pony's hungry. My pony squeals a little when I'm hard on the reins. Brakes. I try to treat her well, never whip her too hard to get her up to speed. And sometimes we have a little fun.

But yeah, it was funny riding the pony again after having seen Seabiscuit. There were a couple zippy cars on the freeway that passed me up in the fast lane, and I seriously started pacing them. And I could swear as I came through the tunnel I could hear her breath.

And so I've thought to myself, if my car is a pony, what will my motorcycle be?

My motorcycle will be a chocobo.

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Yes, the Tahoe trip was great, fun, great. Fun!

The drive there was harrowing. My parents were correct in their concern. It is a bad road to drive for the first time at night in conditions that may be rainy/snowy/foggy. I let Alex do the first part so I could be fresh for the mountains. The mountains, oh god. The most difficult stretches are completely unlit, and the glare from oncoming traffic is shocking. Your sight just loses the lane completely, and it's all you can do to be able to see the right line. Going towards Tahoe, our side of the road edges the cliff; and while I'm not scared of heights and always enjoyed the view, the pressure to be that much more careful was another straw on my back. Luckily, the conditions on the way there were pretty good. There were sections of very thick fog, but it wasn't continuous, and we never hit ice. I seriously felt like I achieved something when we finally reached the resort. And hell, I did. Every new day that you're alive is an accomplishment, it's just that there are times when you are really aware of it.

My friends oohed and aahed at the cabin, at its icicles, and at the thick undulating layers of snow. My friends being: Alex, Katharine, Will, Joe. The night we arrived, we chilled inside, had wine, games, and a fire. In walking, we met some friendly folks from neighboring cabins, and we were nearly persuaded to join a party, but we were tired, and felt too introverted for such shenanigans.

At midnight, though, we got up the gumption to go outside and build a snowman. And WHAT a snowman, let me tell you! I have never built a finer. At first, the snow seemed un-ideal--it was powdery and hard to pack. But we worked with it, and though it took time, experimentation, and an aerobic workout, it became what we wished it to be. Each rounded section was worthy of Andy Goldsworthy. Joe became one with the snow, Will was the cerebral engineer, I was all intuition, and Katharine was encouragement (she lacked waterproof gloves). And our snowman was magnificent. A traditional character with some flair. (Flair=mustache, monocle, and bowler.) Quite the achievement.

Sigh. It was in sections by nine the next day. Will says he heard "Woohoo!" outside our house that morning. He later found the culprit (beyond the shadow of a doubt) and beaned him in the back of the head with a snowball. Revenge was had, and Joe savaged the remains of the snowman with his nunchucks.

I regretted not bringing my snowboarding gear, as Will and Alex went up to the smiling slopes of Heavenly. Apparently, the conditions were perfect. Apparently, Alex (it was his first time) is hooked. Apparently, I am a fool.

But I did find a great hat at the boarding shop.

Later, we spent some quality time in the hot tub, where a superlatively outgoing four-year-old boy (babysitter and older brother in tow)invited us to a party at his unit, telling us he'd leave a key under the mat.

New Year's Eve on the strip was crazy and funny. It was what we expected--like a very very large and intense frat party. Not bad, though. We did some Woo-Hooin' of our own, engineered a belated countdown, and I kissed Katharine. A success, that's what I'd call it.

After the icy and longer-than-we-expected walk home, we wound down with more wine and games. Will and I exchanged backrubs. Though he has a girlfriend; though his best friend (Joe) is my ex-boyfriend; we are Woah attracted to each other; and we are Woah responsible enough not to let that catch up with us just now. Pats on the back all around. Yay.

Honestly? Back rubs = lust suppressed or in control.

So what was Yay Snow! at the party Eve Night became Holy Fuck, SNOW on Near's Day. We woke to what one would call a 'snowstorm'. The van already had a thick layer. We had to borrow a shovel. We had to get home. We packed into the van and joined a long. fucking. line. to the chain stop on the freeway.

A Six-Hour line. Oh, we had enough food and water, and nothing but love for each other. So we had interesting and in-depth conversations, and random moments of small hilarity. Like when Alex abruptly left the van and hurled himself into the snowbank, leaving a man-sized print in the downy powder.

Other than the line, and the careful going with chains on, the trip went without a hitch. After the mountains, we stopped for a pizza dinner, I gave the wheel to Alex, and I got more backrub from Will. Bless His Soul, I needed that. (You know he is a licensed massage therapist? It was good.)

After 10 hours in the car, we got home at 11:30. By god, we did. Uncorked the remaining bottle of champagne and concluded.

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I am now headed, tomorrow, to LA to visit with my sister. I love my sister to death but I WISH I had some more downtime between travels. I don't like packing for one trip when I haven't yet unpacked from the previous. But aw hell, what am I complaining about. Seriously.

Oh, and the Virus Battle of Helm's Deep concluded in the same vein as its namesake: a victory with some losses. I had to water a dry-but-not-quite-sore throat--still kind of am--though I have been free from weakness and snot, which are the two aspects of sickness I loathe most. I just need to maintain the care, for it is not yet over. Rohan must still ride to the aid of Gondor. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean.

1:59 a.m. 2004-01-03�

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