I shot a man in Reno... just to watch him die

As macabre as the title is, it is really just a reference to the Johnny Cash that we listened to on the way out of California (after a tasty dinner and stay at Allen's dad's house).  An old friend had arranged us a place to stay; alas, we did not have a venue in the wonderful rodeo town of Reno.  We noticed that it was a bit less seedy than Vegas, but we didn't stay long.  In typical Katie T. style, I easily convinced her (as I was already convinced myself) that we should show the guys Lake Tahoe and eat dinner there.  Lake Tahoe borders California and Nevada and is exalted to the skies as the largest, deepest, and arguably most beautiful alpine lake.  It is 1,644 feet deep and 192 square miles.  Thankfully, we now have the camera back and can show as well as tell about the lake.  We went to a great Mexican restaurant where we were strangely served by a Polish emigrant (only in America).  Nathaniel had a Lengua burrito... cow tongue in the vernacular.  It tasted a lot like liver (YES, we all tried it).  We then drove back watched Ocean's 13, sang a bit for Katie T., fixed her router, and went to sleep (not all in that order).  Here is our proof that we have in fact been to what Katie calls the "bottom of heaven" because it is so beautiful.  

Random side story evoked by pictures.  When in Missouri, we had been very close to the boyhood home and stomping grounds of a rather favorite author of mine, Mark Twain.  His biography of Joan of Arc I will recommend to everyone until I die.  It annoys my close friends how often I talk about him and that book.  At any rate, on the way to Tahoe, at a gas station, we MET Mark Twain. Ok, real story... a kindly old man with a wizened face honed for humor was sitting on the bench reading a newspaper.  He was clearly a gentleman in his white suit out-bleached only by his white mustache and head of hair.  I sidled up to him in  a manner that I knew would put him at ease, affecting my most gentlemanly southern accent, I asked him what he was reading.  He congenially told me about the weather in the places he had recently travelled.  He had apparently just spent the summer in San Francisco and remarked that he had never had a colder winter than his summer in San Francisco.  I chuckled at the witticism and joined him on his bench.  Here I am, basking in the salt of his wit:

And here I am, proving how fast we forged a friendship in minutes!