I drive to a party. It's snowing, and I have to park about 50 feet down from the house and climb up to it. It's steep and slippery snow, and I joke to the people around me that I wish I had an ice ax (as if for mountain climbing). I think they have to ask me what that is, and when I explain, they don't think it's a joke, it would be a nice thing to have.

After a while I'm getting ready to leave, gathering up my things. I'm in a side room, alone, where I apparently unwrapped a present somebody got for me. One part is a bag, and I try to put this box in it but it doesn't fit. I can't get everything to gather together; I don't want to leave any part of the mess here for them to clean up, but I guess I have to.

So then I'm ready to leave, and I tell Vera (who is also there, probably with the baby) just to wait and I'll go get the car and come pick them up, on the road that passes on the uphill side of the house. I explain that it's steep here, but it gets less steep and snowy as you go toward Portland, so undoubtedly I'll be able to go back as far as I need to until I can get up to the other road. My Dad says yeah, you can do that for sure, even if you have to go all the way to Dunhill. I don't know where that is but I agree anyway.