We leave for Tahoe today. Tahoe City, in fact. It will be our first time on the west shore of the lake. Alpine Meadows, the resort that consumed Squaw Valley (later renamed Palisades, because of the cultural slur), site of the 1960 Winter Olympics. After work and school, we will all pile into the car and head to the snow, a model bourgeoise family. Say what you will, there is something to the pleasure of expensive leisure, it's not at all like the poor kinds of leisure. Not every moment needs to be spent fighting the many online and workplace evils of unanimity, economic injustice, and exclusivity. Sometimes you can just glide down a mountainside on soft snow and achieve the temporary sensation of escaping it all, surrounded by affluent white people, and the resorts' employees.
I never dreamed that I would live this long. I will stuff my pockets with single dollar bills and tip everybody I see working with a big, generous smile on my face. Things can only get better.
Well, I thought that I was going to have a few free minutes to sit here and satirize my opining, but the car needs to be packed with all the gear, the skis and snowboards locked into the racks on the roof, the checklist checked, the family loaded.
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