Headed up to Tahoe with a bunch of pals to beat the drum for one of the ULTIMATE Pal's 30th birthday. 20 of us bunked up just shy of the west Nevada border for a weekend full of laking, eating, imbibing, boobing (just the toddlers) and celebrating. You get old enough and you get grateful for long gatherings where communal meals are far more elevated than spaghetti with red sauce, and no one knows what you mean by "Franzia."

At golden hour Saturday afternoon, the Ultimate and her longtime sweets came back from a curiously drawn out ride on the jet-ski with a pile of diamonds flashing on her left-ring finger. Finally!! Everyone ran into the water to meet them, splashing crying laughing shrieking hugging kissing sighing with relief. We need lifelong lovers like them in the world. They could've taken off for Reno and done the whole damn thing, got my mind working out a foraged handful of sagebrush, lupine and mallow in a pinch. 

We all got home and waited for the little brown bear to amble off the cabin porch; dashing to the rail to watch him make his way across the meadow hedged against the property line.