Some people dread their birthdays, but I don’t. I was born on May 25, 1958. I’m letting you know because I’m not one of those people who does not expect you to remember my birthday. I’m going to remind you because I’m not one to sit around until you remember. I like getting phone calls, birthday cards and all kinds of gifts, but don’t expect me to sit in a restaurant and have people sing to me. Ugh. Don’t you just hate that?
I am one of those people who makes things happen. Also, I don’t just celebrate my birth day. Instead, I milk the whole month and do anything I want. I pamper myself. Anything goes. Including an overnight trip to Tahoe to escape Sacramento’s valley heat and our statewide drought.
I travel light.
As usual, I got so excited about this brief getaway. I forgot to take a jacket, so whenever I went outside, I wrapped myself in a blanket. Since Tahoe is a tourist destination, no one asked why I was walking around wearing a blanket over my tank top and shorts. Let’s just say that I was miserable with allergies. I wasn’t expecting wind.
Mr. Rabbit stopped to stare at me and my camera while the wind whipped through the trees. A box of Kleenex became my best friend.
Whenever there’s valley heat in Sacramento, most of us head for Lake Tahoe or San Francisco in less than two hours.
A little snow–even in May. But not enough for the skiers.
I’ll find all kinds of excuses to return.