Thursday, November 30, 2006

'The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.' — William Faulkner



We spent Thanksgiving in Nevada: Tofurky, vegan loaf, sweet potato pie, trimmings and all. Clark was a good sport being a dedicated carnivore second only to being a ravenous eater. FILL ME, he says, AND I WILL BE JUST FINE. We were well fed, it is true.



I only took pictures in Virginia City. It occurs to me now that there are no pictures of my family, assuming at the time of course that it would be superfluous in light of the 3745 pictures my mother took of me kicking sage brush alone.




The road to Virginia City has all the earmarks of decay, of a former life being reclaimed by the desert. It is therefor all the more surprising to crest the hill into town and find it swarming with tourists. High up in the mountains, the town is exposed and cold. It would have been a brutal life, that. We wandered around reading plaques, which I have no tolerance for. I hate plaques... nothing makes history seem more dead and irrelevant then a plaque. It hurts to roll my eyes at them reading every sign post in freezing dry cold.



For the first, and perhaps only time in my life I threw dice in the casino with my mother. She brought $30 to the table and one little chip at a time amassed a $9 fortune. Tricky that girl. Clark and I lost $30 each before we peeled ourselves away from the craps table and went back home to eat cookies and chocolate.

Now, we are back in Oregon and back at work. I have one week left of my internship and am already filling out job applications. My my my, all the promises I have made to myself due upon successful completion...

Most favorite, I will get back to running more then 5 miles a week, more like 30 miles is what I need to keep me sane. I might blog more often, even if there is nobody left who cares. I will call my family and tell them I love them.

*I love you*

Oh yeah, my blog is three years old now, actually three years and twenty five days-ish.

... or 26,921:30 hours.

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