We all have to remember in our own way

A tree stands in the median on I-25, north of Las Cruces, not quite to Radium Springs.

It's a scrubby little tree, maybe a mesquite or a juniper. You know, the kind of hardy tree you see out there in the New Mexico desert. Something tenacious.

This particular tree stands out because it's festooned with tinsel and garland.

It's been that way for several years. I've seen it, driven past it several times, actually.

The first time I saw it, the time of year wasn't much past Christmas, so I figured it was a leftover holiday decoration.

But when I saw it again a few years later, I realized it wasn't just leftover holiday decorations, but something more serious. I knew it was a roadside shrine often found in our fair New Mexico.

The roadside shrine is a memorial located where someone has lost their life out there on the roads. It's a pretty common sight in New Mexico.

It's a tradition I grew up with and so it's never occurred to me to question it. I find outside the borders of my homestate, it's questioned. A lot.

Questions of taste and decency, actually. Whether it's appropriate, or not, to put one's grief so garishly on display.

See, I think we in our American culture have really weird and uptight ideas about death and dying. Ok, it's probably because I grew up in the cultures of New Mexico that I feel that way.

But I've always really appreciated the Hispanic and Latino cultures celebrating and remembering their loved ones who have moved on. I appreciate the ability to show grief openly without remorse or embarrassment.

Dia de los Muertos offrendas and roadside shrines are simply the outward display of deeply held cultural beliefs. Beliefs such as that the dead have moved on to another world, but a world that is not so far away from our own.

A woman is comforted, perhaps, by knowing that her child, while not in her arms, is not that far away. While she remembers with a keening loss the child who was taken away, she can still bake bread and place sweets on an offrenda, and it helps her cope.

A mourning wife can drive to the spot where her husband met his end, and remember him. She refreshes the shiny bits of paper, and can feel her husband not so far away.

I think this is healthy, personally, and I don’t find it to be weird. I find it to be beautiful.

Those roadside shrines are called descansos. They aren't just tacky plastic crosses and brightly shining tinsel. For the family that constructed the shrine, they are an essential part of the grieving process.

The garlanded tree located in I-25 highway median is a descanso to honor the memory of a child.

The shrine in the photo at the end of this post honors two kids who rolled their ATV by the irrigation banks on the Bosque in Los Lunas.

When someone you truly love dies, the grief never goes away. It tends to ebb and flow, welling up sometimes, overwhelming. Other times, the volume is turned down and you can almost, but not quite, forget.

I think we all have to find our own way of grieving.

No one can say who is right or wrong.

Source: Las Cruces Sun News

Ok, so go with me on this...

You ever have those moments where your monkey brain isn't working on anything in particular, and when given free rein, it jumps around from topic to topic? There it hops along and suddenly you end up in some crazy neighborhood in your mind, and you are unsure how you got there.

And at that point, it's best to just back out sloooowly.

Yeah. This happened to me the other night.

I was really, really tired. I hadn't been sleeping well and my fatigued brain wasn't making coherent thoughts. I oh so needed to get some work done at home, but couldn't get my head into the game.

Instead, I lay down in my bed figuring hell, I'll just sleep. Things will look better in the morning.

As I lay there trying to get to the REM's, I thought "man, wouldn't it be great to have one of those oxygen tents like Michael Jackson? I understand that a boost of oxygen can help you be more alert and think more clearly. That would be so rad."

So *then*, my untethered mind, thinking of oxygen tents, remembered that episode of Seinfeld where George and The Bubble Boy got into a big fight.

And so of course I laughed.

But THEN, The Bubble Boy reference made me think of that TOTAL made-for-TV movie, The Boy in the Plastic Bubble which oh yes I totally watched after school.

Which then made me think to myself, damn, who was that actor who played the boy in the bubble? Dark hair, kind of cute.

So then the other side of my brain hollered in response, "Robby Benson!"

And ta daaa! My brain was now stuck on, "So whatever happened to that guy?"

So there I am, trying to sleep but instead thinking about Robby Benson. You know, circa "Ice Castles" and "Ode To Billy Joe"?

Young, cute, all soft focused and baby faced? Quiet voice and acting chops suited for made-for-TV?

Yeah! That guy! Where the hell is he now?

And that's how I went to sleep.

Only trouble is...in the light of day, I realized. The Boy in the Plastic Bubble wasn't Robby Benson, it was John Travolta. You know, circa "Welcome Back, Kotter" and right before "Saturday Night Fever."

So I spent all that time pondering Robby when I should have been pondering John.

Damn. What a brain. Ain't worth the price of headcheese with mayo on marble rye from Molinari (a deli in North Beach, for my out of town friends).

I really gotta learn how to do Sudoku or something.....

Ya Just Can't Take a Bad Picture

There are certain places in the world where, seriously, other than utter camera failure (or utter user-of-the-camera failure) you just can't take a bad photo.

Yosemite seems to be one of those places. I've not been myself, but I've seen plenty of friend's shots and damn, each was gorgeous!

The Grand Canyon is the same. Here's a link to shot that blogger friend NewMexiKen took on Friday with his iPhone. And it's beautiful!!

I know that there are plenty of similar examples.

On Saturday, I visited one of those "can't take a bad photograph" places. The Good Man and I needed to get out and enjoy the sun, so we took one of my favorite walks along the Marina Green, through Crissy Field and ending up at Fort Point, the Civil War era Army fort located right smack under the Golden Gate Bridge.

No matter how many years I live here, I still think the Golden Gate Bridge is one of the most awe inspiring man made items ever constructed. It's truly breathtaking.

And so yes, I brought my new-to-me camera along for the walk so I could learn how it works, and I snapped away.

Here's the thing...there have been millions upon millions of photographs taken of the bridge, professional and amateur alike. We've all seen it from all of its angles. It's all been done, and so it's damn near impossible to get a new and different shot.

But it doesn't matter. The bridge is stunning, and the photos taken, regardless of photographer, are always worth seeing.

So here we go, this was taken from the pier outside of the Warming Hut at Crissy Field:

It's not an especially different or unique view of the bridge...but it's still cool!

So then I try to add some artistic and photographic flair!

Ooooh! The big boat tie-off thingy in the foreground! And a fishing rod! I'm so artistic!

But what does your eye naturally want to see? The glimmering bridge in the background. With the sailboats underneath, it really makes the shot.

And then there's this one:

We've all seen that view. Doesn't matter. It's still stunning! And that clear blue sky! Whoa!

By the by, it turns out the bridge isn't only pretty up on top with the art deco towers and the graceful support cables.

The bridge is even beautiful underneath:

A man made work of art!

And even this...a terribly composed photograph, but it's still fascinating.

This is the tower on the San Francisco side. It seems to be showing some breakdown and rust. This worries me! I understand that the bridge is constantly being painted to keep it sealed and also looking good. So I'm hoping that cutbacks haven't caused a lack of care of our beautiful landmark.

Anyhow, I adore our orange bridge. Completed in 1937 it still stands proud and useful. I wish those yahoolios who are over budget and failing miserably on the rebuild of the Bay Bridge would take some lessons!

All our modern knowledge and technology still can't beat what they made 73 years ago!

Ah, Spring

In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

- Alfred Lord Tennyson

Yes, yes, it's inevitable that the famous Tennyson quote will be trotted out when the weather turns warm. Especially after the winter we've had.

But is that true? Does a young man's fancy lightly turn to thoughts of love?

Is it love? Or more like "damn, baby, it's been a long cold winter."

And if young men turn to thoughts of love, what about the thoughts of young ladies?

Well, I may not be young and I'm no lady, so what do my thoughts lightly turn to?

Well. Those cute little strappy sandals. You know the ones, with the heel, not to high, but high enough to make my legs look nice?

Oh, and if I'm wearing those, then I totally need a mani-pedi.

*ahem* Excuse me. Totally girled out there for a minute. Bringing it back to center....

My thoughts lightly turn to...

Margaritas on the patio of my favorite restaurant while nomming guacamole and hearing light mariachi music in the background.

Iced tea. Preferably made by the sun.

Liberating my legs from the tyranny of pants. (oops, better shave 'em. It *has* been a long winter!)

Apricots ripening in the side yard.

Farmer's Markets with all of the rest of the produce that arrives with spring including nectarines, peaches and artichokes.

Daffodils on the dining room table. Followed by tulips. Followed by a cacophony of all the flowers of Spring and Summer.

Achoo! Sneezes. Because god knows all those fabulous flowers bring not so fabulous pollen.

Longer days and fabulous sunsets.

Riding my bike! (getting it tuned up today!)

Stepping outside and turning my face to the sun like an over ripened sunflower because oh-my-am-I happy to have that big fireball back in the sky where it's visible. My vitamin D-cell batteries are running low!

Photo from: Kimberly Clark... time out, tired of Flickr!'s photo stream.

Your Opinions Count!

And so here's the thing....

I've been asked to add one photo to an upcoming local annual group photography exhibit.

This is a very big deal for me and I'm super excited!

Trouble is...how to narrow it down to just ONE photo?

There are no bounds or themes to submissions other than no nudity.

So I've been pouring through my iPhoto library and have narrowed the list down to five.

Here's where you come in...

I've posted thumbnails below for first glance, but I actually recommend you view the five photos in a Flickr Slideshow.

Once you've viewed and made your choice, please click here to vote. This will open a new page on Survey Monkey where you can give me your choice. (be sure to click "done" after you've made your selection!)

Bear in mind these haven't been cropped yet and have only minor color enhancement done. Once we choose the photo, I'll do more work with tweaking and cropping. I'm looking for the photo subject I think has the best chance of being sold, so I can donate the proceeds to the burgeoning art gallery. Keep that in mind as you look.


Herewith, the contenders:

Sunset Building

Curious Giraffe

Pretty, On Sale

Thoughtful Lemur

Housefinch in Winter

Tapping Into My Personal Genius

Boy, that's a title, eh?

I'll provide a guarantee right now, this post won't live up to that title.

Maybe it's aspirational. We'll see.

There is a blog I read regularly that takes the form of an online journal. The author is really open and straight forward. It really is like reading her personal diary.

She suffers from quite a bit of writer's block, and so when that happens, she'll do a free association blog post where she asks herself questions and has her mind answer any which way it wants.

I find those posts fascinating as they always contain some nugget of something good that makes the whole exercise worthwhile.

I'm not saying my version of this is going to provide anything other than a nugget of "what the sam hell?" but I'm willing to try.

So. Here we go.

Chatting with myself...

Heeere we go!

Yup, let's go!

We're doin' it!

Crimeny, I'm so blocked I can't even write interviewer questions.

Ugh.

Ok, for real this time.

Hello, welcome to our self-chat. How are you feeling today?

Wait, that's how a therapist likes to start a conversation. "How are you feeeeling?" How am I feeling? Bite me, that's how I'm feeling!

I sense a little hostility.

Congratulations, your sensors are working fine. Can I go?

Yes, you can. But would you stay a minute more?

Why?

Because I asked you nicely.

Fair enough.

Why are you so cranky?

I get cranked up when I have writer's block. It usually comes so easy to me, the words. In fact, I can write too many words. I was constantly admonished by a former boss, a numbers guy, that I wrote too many words.

He was a toad, though, so no need to let his opinions matter.

Isn't writing a process? A flow? Sometimes a raging river, sometimes a trickle?

Thanks. Now I have to go pee.

Some of the greatest writers in the world had and have writer's block.

Sure, sure. I know it's all a part of the creative process but damn, I hate it!

Don't you think railing against it only makes it worse?

Don't you think being a smarty-pants is going to net you the backspace key, repeatedly?

Hey, this is your mental exercise, hot-shot, I'm just asking the questions here.

Oooh, touchy touchy! Fine, yes, I know that railing against writer's block only makes it worse. But railing against [insert item here] is sort of how I make my way through life.

You know, "Hulk mad! Hulk smash!" or something like that.

Yeah. How's that working out for you?

Today, not so well.

What do you think would help clear the block?

I don’t know. It usually passes in its own time.

So, if you can just wait it out, it will resolve itself.

Usually.

So, being patient with yourself and letting it pass by might actually be the quickest route?

Yeah, probably.

So why don't you do that...be patient with yourself?

Damned if I know.

Well, maybe that's something to work on today.

Yeah, you're right. I'll grudgingly admit you are right. Maybe even helpful, too.

Any closing thoughts?

I like pie.

Thank you, and good night....

It's daytime, stupid brain. You good fer nothing piece of......


Thus concludes today's conversation. I hope we've all learned something here. Though I've no idea what that would be.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Evaporation!

Everywhere you turn....

Ok, I suppose some things are hard coded into my system. Cellular level and all.

Today promises to be a very warm day where I live. I woke up this morning and it was already getting hot, and so my mind thought, "hmm, wonder if it is too early to think about getting the swamp cooler set up."

And then I remembered...I don't live in the desert anymore.

Oh and by the way, evaporative cooling doesn't work worth a damn where it's humid.

Oh yeah. Whoops.

This all reminded me of when I looked for my first apartment in Northern California.

In Albuquerque I'd lived in a very large one-bedroom apartment up on the east end of Menaul. I was on the fourth floor and had a rocking view of the Sandias. Many of my utilities were taken care of, and I paid $550.

I was now looking at spending $1200 a month on a teeny tiny dark apartment in a crap neighborhood. And pay for it out of a salary that was only $5k more than I was making in Albuquerque.

Yeah. That was bad. But what I remember most was touring a pretty nice place that was in my price range (less than $1000 a month). It was clean, smallish, but suitable. It was a warm day down in the South Bay, and I inquired, "where is the air conditioner?"

The landlord responded that there wasn't one.

NO AIR CONDITIONER!?!?! WHAT!?!?!?

I mean, to a girl from New Mexico, this is certain death! You don't NOT have an air conditioner!!!

The landlord further explained that really, it's not necessary. The really hot days are few and the wind off the Bay and the ocean keeps it cool.

I was skeptical.

Thirteen years later, I've still never lived in a place that had an air conditioner. Admittedly, there have been some still, hot days where I yearned for the simple beauty of a swamp cooler. On those days, I stay longer at work to soak up their climate control.

So while my home is a/c free, my car does have cooling. I won't own a car that doesn't, though I have friends who saved a few bucks by leaving that off. No way.

I have a vague feeling this is going to be a long, hot summer in the Bay Area where the tunnel of fans The Good Man sets up won't quite be enough.

But then, when it gets that hot, the next day the fog rolls in over the hills and dampens the whole day and you freeze your tukhus off.

Ah...summer in the Bay Area. Swamp Coolers not required.

¡Feliz Vernal Equinox!

Go Earth, go! Get that Northern Hemisphere closer to the sun! Woooo!

Happy First Day of Spring!

To those folks living where it's snowing today, well, my "ugh!" goes out to you.

Meanwhile...

WHOOO HOOOO!!

Here's to the Firsties

Didja ever really take a look at an avocado hanging off of a tree (or in a pile at the grocery), with that pebbly green skin, and ponder why that fruit looks exactly like it's made outta frogs? Did you hold one in your hand and wonder who, exactly was the first person ever who took a look at that green pear-shaped fruit and said to themselves, "hey, that looks tasty!"

And what was that first experiment like? Did they bite into it like an apple, only to ptoo-ptoo out that ucky skin? "I rather dislike the outside, but the innards, oh sweet delicious surrender!"

What about the first person to sample a lemon? What musta been going through their minds? Hmm, looks pretty and yellow. Smells divine. Nibble, nibble, ZOWEEEEE! *ting at the back of the jaw*

And then, after that horrifying experience, what was the thought chain that led to, "you know...if I add some water and something sweet to that, it could be very refreshing!"

How about...Which of our early ancestors plucked the berries from a juniper bush, fermented them, distilled the whole mess and figured out how to make gin? I mean, who was the utter genius with that idea? Because I don't look at random berries on bushes and think, "hmm, martini!"

And what about coconuts? I mean, that's a two-step process to get one of them sumnabitches open. First someone has to shimmy up a palm tree, a rather uncomfortable proposition, I'd think, then hack down one of those bad boys. AND THEN the two-steps to first peel off the thick outer later and then knock that thing on a rock to get it open.

Who had that kind of patience?

I'm glad they did because oh how tasty is coconut?

What about aloe? Or cactus fruit? Artichokes? Or those god awful stinky yet tasty durian fruits you find in Malaysia?

Who are these people who gave them the first try?

And what about the downsides of being first? For example...

Who, exactly, was our test subject to sample a handful of those pretty red little holly berries? Hey, the birds eat them, must be good right? According to Wikipedia (so you know it must be true), it only takes about twenty berries to be fatal for an adult. Whooops.

Who went there so that we'd all know not to?

I'm pretty grateful to that person, and all the other firsties.

Thanks for wandering through my strange random thought for the day. It has a genesis in something I saw in a movie and was a long strange trip in my brain from there....

Anyhoo. Happy Friday!

And Now A Word From Our Sponsor

Like many bloggers, as I write my posts and maintain my blog, I often I look at other blogs for ideas, inspirations, or what not to do.

Like...I hate blogs that are riddled with ads running down each side and between every post.

Then again, there are some sites that do ad placement in a tasteful way.

I'm torn.

About six months ago, I began my first foray into ad placement on my blog by placing a small, unobtrusive Google AdSense on my blog. It's gotten a few clicks, nothing to write home about, and it's been a good experiment.

Recently, I was contacted by the folks over at Made In New Mexico about an opportunity to do some link sharing.

I took a long time to think about it, as I was unsure about going there.

What finally changed my mind was that in this case I'd be supporting a business located in New Mexico selling New Mexico based products.

Helping the economy in my home state matters to me.

I'd bought from Made In New Mexico before, based on their ads in New Mexico Magazine, and I was satisfied with the experience.

I decided to place a new order using my own money, so I'd have current experience.

I went to their online store, shopped around, and bought two things:

A New Mexico license plate notebook (I chose the old fashioned yellow and red, but you can also choose the balloon theme plate):

( It sort of tickles me that it's a trailer plate. Fitting for me, no?)

And a New Mexico flag (fresh outta the box, I need to steam the wrinkles out!):

The shopping was easy, the ordering process simple, and shipping happened the day after I ordered. Good stuff!

So based on a happy shopping experience and the kind folks who contacted me, you'll now see a small ad in the right sidebar. If you click that ad, it will take you to the Made In New Mexico store and they'll note that you came from my blog. If you buy, I might get a little something for it.

By the by, I wasn't compensated for writing this post. If ya'll buy some stuff, a couple sheckles might come my way. Mainly I’m happy to support a solid New Mexico business.

Thanks!

St. Paddy's Must Reads

Two different points of view, but both are completely compelling.

First, an insightful article: "Kiss Me, I'm Mexican!"

(link via @Avelino on Twitter. Thanks!)

And from the PS of that first article: "How to make an Irish man cry (and it’s not football)!" is a beautifully written story from an Irishman visiting America.

Good stuff!

Got a little St. Patrick's Day tear in my eye.....

Come tip a glass with me!

Yes, tis time to celebrate St. Paddy's Day again. The wearin' of the green. The drinking, and the pinching (not necessarily in that order).

But St. Paddy's Day means something different here on ol' Oh Fair New Mexico.

Twas St. Paddy's Day 2007 that my little blog was begun.

Three years and 860 posts later, it's still going strong.

Look, three years ago, I didn't know if I had a year's worth of content in me, but I was willing to try. It was The Good Man's idea to start a blog and damnit, I guess I have to admit he was right.

He really is, you know, a good man. Smart too. Dashing, handsome...but I digress.

My meager three years don't come anywhere near the longevity and volume of blog friend, NewMexiKen. He just celebrated six years at his own url and is closer to seven years blogging and still getting ten to fifteen posts a day. I am humbled in his sheer blogging presence.

But my three years still beats the heck out of a lot of blogs I've seen rise and fall since I got my start.

Cheers! To Oh Fair New Mexico and another year of random acts of bloggery.

And Happy St. Patrick's Day! To celebrate I took my new (to me) camera and snapped the prolific clover in the backyard.

I think it's beautiful. My landlord curses at it.

And so goes the ways of my world.

(I don't see any four leafers in there, do you?)

Romeo, Romeo, I’m calling 911

So there you are, at home alone in your second story apartment doing whatever it is single ladies do at home at night. (I'm thinking eating raw chocolate chip cookie dough, but that's just me.)

You hear a rattle, rattle outside on your fire escape and realize someone is climbing onto your balcony.

What do you do?

Well you call the damn police, that's what.

And that's what a German woman did in this situation.

Problem was, the assumed burglar was her boyfriend, bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine in hand, trying to do something romantic.

Ah, ok, no harm no foul, right?

The police all have a good laugh and let the young lovers have their peace.

Whoops, seems the boyfriend had an outstanding warrant.

So when the police arrived, he jumped down from the balcony and tried to flee, only to be tackled by the officers on the scene.

Star crossed lovers, or something....

Bonus points to the guy for giving the arresting officers the bottle of wine.

Hopefully his Juliet has a good sense of humor.

I'm thinking chocolate chip cookie dough and a Netflix movie is one heck of a lot nicer way to spend the night than bailing your boyfriend out of jail...but that's just me.

Source.

So okay...

I spent a lot of time tonight tweaking and fixing my new template to make it lay out like I wanted. My xml and html skills have shot up quite a bit (yes, I figured it all out myself).

I now have dates on posts. Yay!

I now have older/newer links at the bottom of the page. (oops, I have older/newer in Firefox, not in Safari. Ok, more to work on....)

And I moved tags to the bottom of each post.

Please do tell me if you have any troubles with this template. I've looked at it in Safari and Firefox. Let me know if it looks weird on your browser or something doesn't work.

I was ready to scrap this template until I was able to work out a lot of bugs...so there you have it.

Meanwhile, I'm kind of digging the new look.

By the by, I received reviews on a blog traffic service I use for my blog. Universally, reviewers hated my old template. Hopefully they like the new one. I've gotten great feedback so far!

Thanks!

Making Our Own List

Recently, while flipping around my no-cable-havin' television choices, I landed on the "Tavis Smiley Show."

I've watched his show a couple times before, but what stopped me this time was his guest, Rosanne Cash, a talented singer songwriter. I'm a big fan.

It was a fun interview. Rosanne was feeling a bit more expansive than usual, which was nice. The central theme for the interview was Rosanne's new album called "The List."

The story goes something like this: When Rosanne was just out of high school, she went on the road with her dad, Johnny Cash. While on the road, all the various musicians she toured with taught her how to play guitar.

At one point, her father noted her deep lack of musical knowledge, and sat down with a pad of yellow paper and wrote up a list of songs that she should learn and know.

It was a gift of a father's deep love and respect for musical history that he wrote out line by line on that page.

Over the years, Rosanne kept that sheet of paper, and learned most of the songs.

Well, finally, after having surgery on a benign tumor in her brain and coming through the recovery, she and her husband decided to make an album of songs that were included on the original list.

Over the years, Rosanne has been reluctant to show people the actual list, and keeps it tucked away somewhere safe. Her album gives you a taste of the songs that Johnny felt were key to his own daughter's musical education.

This whole concept intrigued me, so I ran out and got the CD. I'm not on board with every arrangement on the album (call me a purist...or something), but deeply I respect the new interpretation of these classic songs.

So I got another copy and sent it to my best friend, mother of my two goddaughters. She and her husband are doing an excellent job in passing along a musical education to their children.

But for my best friend and me, music is everything. It's the stitches that hold tight the tapestry of our lives, our memories and our friendship.

So included in the package with the CD, I sent a letter with my idea: Our own list.

I feel that we need to make a list of our own musical legacy for her kids just as Johnny did for Rosanne.

Well, my friend took to this idea with gusto, and our list making began.

I began jotting songs as they came to me in my notebook and it quickly grew to four pages front and back. I realized...this is going to be a really long list, so I began to think of how we could sort it out to make it easier to take in.

Over this past weekend, she arrived for a fun visit, and came toting a CD she'd burned of her own first volume of The List (and two bags of roasted green chile in her suitcase).

Her idea for sorting the songs is by category. Her first volume is "Songs You Wanna Dance To."

There will be a "Songs You Wanna Drink Beer and Cry To."

There will probably be a "Songs You Wanna Get Frisky To."

And then, perhaps just a, "If You're Gonna Be My Kid, You'd Better Know These Songs" CD as well.

We're still working on the categories, but work is underway.

Over the weekend, The Good Man and I were both pleased and honored to have yet another friend from back in my college days visiting, too.

Friday night the four of us got together at my place. My best friend made rellenos and Spanish rice. I whipped up a batch of green chile chicken enchiladas and a pot of savory pinto beans.

There were margaritas, guacamole and a LOT of conversation about the list. Our friend, an Edgewood boy now living in Oklahoma, is like a long lost brother to me. He brought many excellent suggestions for the list to the table.

We cussed. We discussed. And together we're creating something meaningful for my two godkids. In this music they will know their mom, and their godmom, our families, our history and our love.

Ooops, hold on a sec...just thought of another song I need to jot down...

Beautiful, beautiful words.

"The New Mexico State men's basketball team will play Michigan State on Friday in the first round of the NCAA Tournament."

Oh yeah, baybee!

Source: Las Cruces Sun News

Oh...yeah. Well. The Lobos made it in too. Congratulations...I guess.

Nah, nah, just kidding. It's a good day to be a New Mexico native! Both major schools made it to the dance!

Bear with me

I'm trying new templates and I may have totally hosed things up......

Edit: well, I may have reached the end of my coding knowledge... I fixed a lot of glitches, made the font a bit bigger, but I still don't have date (time only) on the posts, which bugs me. And I don't have an "older posts" link at the bottom of the page, which bugs The Good Man.

If anyone has a few spare coding cycles to lend to me, I'd greatly appreciate.

Otherwise, just still getting comfy in this new template home.

Thoughts and comments appreciated. Thanks!

Tracking My Every Move

Recently, my local Long's Drug store was converted to a CVS store. Mergers and acquisitions are a way of life.

With the new CVS store came a new request..."Do you have your CVS card?"

As soon as CVS took over, they implemented one of those frequent shopper cards that it seems every store has these days.

You shop the store and when you swipe the card, you get discounts on some items.

Seems harmless, right? Swipe a card to get a discount.

Actually, I think these things are pretty insidious. This, despite the fact that I actually use the cards in many stores.

So in exchange for discounts on items, which, by the way, I believe are marked up so they can discount them...the store gets to track my shopping data and use that information however they choose.

Ostensibly, it is used to both market to me personally, and to help figure out what to stock and in what quantities.

But here's what bugs me: In order to get a card, I have to give them personal data. Name (first and last), address, phone number, and date of birth (so they can send me a birthday card??).

Just what, exactly, do the stores do with all of this data they've mined?

By the by, to purchase marketing data like this costs a lot of money. They are getting it for the price of marking up an item so they can take a discount off the top. Cheap deal!

Plus, I suspect they are also selling the data too. Tidy sideline business, I'd say.

I got to thinking about all of this today when I read an article about a recent salmonella outbreak. The CDC asked permission from the patients, and used their shopper cards to trace back to which food item caused their illness.

Ok, so that's a pretty good use of the data. Permission was granted, in advance, to use shopping information.

If only all the uses of my data were for such noble causes.

I personally have an issue with all of the data that is collected and tracked in our ever-evolving data driven society. Google tracks all the websites I've visited, has satellite and street level images of my home, and oh, and if I use their email service, they track information from that too.

Airlines and Homeland Security track everywhere I travel.

Security cameras everywhere track my movements.

A retail company I worked for installed cameras that track a shopper as they come into the store, note what items a shopper looks at, picks up, and ultimately buys (to evaluate effectiveness of the store layout, the manufacturer of the device says).

AT&T knows WAY more about me than pretty much anyone in my life. Phone calls, text messages, email, what sites I surf, etc is all available on their mobile network.

And honestly, every single time I use my credit card, someone tracks where I am, how much I've spent and what I spent it on.

I'm not much of a conspiracy theorist. Usually I take things in stride, but even I have my limits.

Lately, I've been using cash more and trying to frequent stores that don't collect my data, like Trader Joe's and Walgreens.

I'm not yet to the point where I want to live "off the grid" on my compound in Montana, with razor wire around the perimeter and an avid suspicion of authority.

But some days, I gotta be honest, it doesn't sound too bad.....

Oh fer the $#%@ing love of $%#!

You know, where I come from, folks don’t necessarily have the best opinion of California.

"Land of fruits and nuts," the old saying goes.

California does tend to come off weird, aberrant, plastic surgeried and just plain wacky to the middle of the country.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I can manage to fight off those accusations.

"I live in Northern California, it's different," I say.

Or, "you only know what you see on TV. That's not real."

Or, "I wouldn't have lived here so long if it was really like that."

And then every once in a while, this crazy state does something even I, a long time apologist, can't manage to explain.

No, I'm not talking about the Guvernator, but yes, that's one example I can't rightly explain.

Today, the one that's got me scratching my head is this recent bit of legislation:

A little thing called "Cuss-Free Week".

What the &*$#!?!?!

No cussing?

This is California for &*$#'s sakes!

No cussing?

Ok, so the idea was brought on by a fourteen year old kid who I'm sure has the best of intentions.

And yes, it's probably a good idea to clean up the ol' language.

But for the love of %$#@, this is California. You know, the state where people like to bring wacky lawsuits?

Ten will get you twenty, SOMEONE is going to allege a first amendment rights violation. This thing will get hung up in court for YEARS costing the taxpayers of an already on the verge-of-bankrupt state millions of dollars to adjudicate the situation.

I might remind you that the whole "under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance kerfuffle began in, you guessed it, California.

Our residents seem to know how to tie things up in the courts.

Well %&@$.

P.S. As an aside, a friend of mine brought up the question of: does the curse ban only apply to English colloquialisms? Because she is fluent in another language. I find this to be a very good pinche point. Yeah, cabrons?

P.P.S. To my Spanish speaking readers...I Googled "pinche" to see if any of the letters needed accenting. I was amused to find that one user on Urban Dictionary seems to think pinche means : all the guys who work in the kitchen at a restaurant. If I had been drinking coffee, I would have spewed it all over my screen.

Woo hoo! Sun!

*sproing* *sproing* *sproing*

Springbok-y goodness from the @SafariWest Twitter feed.

The Awards they Coulda Given Out

So I actually watched the Oscars last night.

I never watch the Oscars. I almost never watch the Super Bowl, and I watched that this year too.

What's going on with me?

Ah well, another blog post for another time.

I don't usually watch the Oscars because I believe they represent an overblown, poorly scripted Hollywood wank fest.

And I wasn't disappointed this year.

I only saw three of the ten movies that were nominated, that being "Up," "Up in the Air" and then yesterday afternoon, The Good Man and I took in "Crazy Heart."

Based on those three films, here are the awards I can hand out:

Best Use of Talking Dogs - Nod goes to "Up." Squirrel!

Best Bay Area Reference - Fenton's Creamery gets a place of honor in "Up" and I like it. An homage to a tasty place. Good eats deserve their own award!

Best Smuggy-Smug-Smugerson Face - Well the award seriously goes to George Clooney.

Best Really Incredibly Hot Chick Who Is Dancing Around the Age of 40 and Still Looks Amazing - Vera Farmiga. Hooooot in the movie "Up in the Air." Massively HOOOOT in that red dress at the Oscars. And age appropriate for her leading man too, how 'bout them apples?

Best Pretty Young Girl Who is a Solid Talent - those crappy vampire movies notwithstanding, I think Anna Kendrick is pretty damn good. She stole the show from Clooney and made that movie worth watching, IMHO.

Best "Hey, I Can See Your Acting Skills Growing By Leaps and Bounds and I Like It" Performance - Maggie Gyllenhaal in Crazy Heart. I've always been a fan of hers and I think this movie shows a huge maturity in her talent. She's amazing.

Best Realistic Repeated Barfing by an Old Guy On Film - gotta go to Jeff Bridges on that. Ew. And yet, so well done!

And the big award of the night. The one we've all been waiting for:

Best Use of Downtown Albuquerque as a fill in for Houston - and the award goes to...."Crazy Heart."

I laughed pretty hard at the scene where Bad is extolling the virtues of Houston as very familiar downtown Albuquerque landmarks roll past the car windows. They didn't even try to obfuscate the Rio Grande Credit Union sign in a key scene.

Folks, come on up and get your trophy!

Getting My Geek On

Earlier in the week, a local sports radio guy posed the question to his callers:

"Star Wars Character draft, who's your no. 1?" (this from the @DamonBruce Twitter feed)

Well, I was so geeked out over the start of Spring Training, I thought he meant baseball players. Turns out he meant basketball.

No matter, I brought up the question to The Good Man over lunch, which led to a rousing conversation about our all-Star Wars character baseball team.

The Good Man and I parted ways on a lot of the position players, but that's ok. Debate is the heart of baseball.

Herewith are my starting nine (you'll note I'm sticking to Episode 4,5 and 6 characters. I'm old fashioned that way):

First Base (and batting switch): Luke Skywalker. They guy can do yoga and is bendy. I need a guy who can stretch it out to grab the ball. He can "use the force" to figure out when a ball is coming hot down the line. Gotta keep it from rattling around in that weird right field corner at AT&T Park.

Second Base: Boba Fett. Solid hands. Decent footwork. Backed up by Yoda at short. Yeah, I'm ok with this choice. (yes, I know Fett is a bad guy. Go with me on this.)

Short: Yoda. Who else do you know that could pick it from the shoelaces and do a 360 to first for a double play? Gotta be Yoda.

Third: Obi Wan. Solid hands but an old guy. Too much action at first, third is his spot. I need him to nail down the hot corner and keep runners from scoring. I think an Obi to Yoda to Luke double play combination is *hot*. Keeps runners off balance. Yeah.

Left Field: Lando Calrissian. Look, Billie Dee is the MAN. He's gotta bat clean up, can take it over the wall and look good doing it. Yup.

Center: Wedge Antilles. The guy's an ace pilot. He's lean. He can run. He's got a good eye. I'll bet he knows how to take a good route to the ball and can dominate that deep outfield at AT&T Park.

Right Field: Han Solo. Ok, the guy's kind of a bumbler. I want him where he can do the least damage. I'm betting he can bat ok (but probably slump-y like Aaron Rowand) and can probably handle right (except I worry about him at AT&T Park). He'll sometimes take a crappy route to the ball and you'll want to put your head through the television. But mostly solid. The Good Man has Han Solo in left on his lineup card. I may agree with him...don't know.

Catcher: Chewbacca. Furry Man has got the plate *sealed off*. Plus I bet he's got a cannon on him. I see NO ONE stealing second with Chewy behind the plate. The Good Man has Chewbacca at third, and there is a good case to be made for that. I'm sticking with catcher. He's a little tall for the job, but I think his knees can take it.

Pitcher: Well Darth Vader of course. Look, who else do you know in the Galaxy that has the control to throw a nasty 68 mph sinker followed by a 98 mph right up broadway and keep the batters off balance? He's as ugly as Eric Gagne and twice as mean. You need a pitcher who can play mind games with the batters and Darth is your guy.

Here's the lineup card I'm exchanging at the plate:

CF Wedge Antilles. Leadin' us off with speed on the base paths.
1B Luke Skywalker. The guy can get on base and load 'em up for the 3 and 4 hitters.
C Chewbacca takin' it deep or at least moving the runners.
LF Lando Calrissian batting cleanup. Might switch with Chewy if he's on a streak.
3B Obi Wan
2B Boba Fett
S Yoda. Not a power hitter but he gets on base.
RF Han Solo. Where he can do the least damage.
P Darth Vader

Because where I come from, the pitcher has to bat. No designated hitter in my galactic ballgame.

I invite your own thoughts on the lineup. I can be persuaded....

Happy Birthday Little Fella

New baby giraffe at the Safari West wildlife preserve (born yesterday).

Now THAT is a handsome face!

Photo from the @SafariWest Twitter feed.

Guilty Pleasures

Right now, as I write this, I am listening to the oldies country station out of Albuquerque (god bless the internets!) and right now they are playing Michael Martin Murphy's "Wildfire."

And I have the volume cranked.

Man, I love that song.

LOVE it.

I'm certain that my neighbors, however, don't.

That song is *such* a guilty pleasure.

Yesterday in the Safeway, Huey Lewis' "If This Is It" was playing and I sang along (much to The Good Man's dismay) as I shopped. Yes, by god, I love me some Huey Lewis and the News.

Speaking of not being one ounce of cool and singing in the Safeway, do ya'll ever just break out and dance in the frozen foods aisle when a good song comes on?

Because grocery shopping is SO freaking boring! And hey, there you are, bored out of your skull, fighting off old folks and screaming kids, trying to decide between Cheetos and Doritos, and a tune that you love comes on and you GOT to shake that thang! Got to!

I'm just saying.

By the by, this post isn't going to be about anything. After a week where I've talked about such heavy items as my dad, myself, baseball and my infected toe, how do you wrap all that up in a nice, tight bow?

Hell, I don’t know, I'm asking.

I use this blog tracking service that helps measure, ping, and drive traffic. As part of that service, people can review your blog. I find the reviews pretty helpful, actually.

As a matter of fact, I'm currently looking for a new layout as I get terrible scores in that category.

One reviewer wrote that my blog is a "...somewhat random commentary on life..."

So at first I was sort of offended by being called random.

Then I had to realize, they are actually right. This blog is very random (reference: dad, me, baseball, infected toe).

So I decided to embrace it.

Especially on days (like, ahem, today) when I am at a total loss for a blog topic.

So instead of thoughtful, insightful, meaningful, you get random dancing in the supermarket aisle.

Did I mention I like pie?

Such pretty words

______________

Status of Jury Service

If you were summoned for Jury Duty on Thursday, March 4, 2010:
Your appearance is not required.

Please note that you are now excused and will be eligible to serve again in 12 months.
______________

Woo hoo!!!

: dances a jig :

Back Up Gig

The morning team for my local sports radio is out in Scottsdale this week covering all the Spring Training fun.

This morning they observed the groundskeeper hosing down the infield and remarked that could be a possible fallback gig if this whole radio thing didn't work out...

Hmmm....groundskeeper....not bad. I could pull that rake-boxey thing around the infield between innings. I could make those straight chalk lines. I could roll out that big ass tarp and unfurl it on the field. Yeeahhh.

I think I'll add that to my list.

What list, you ask?

The list of "things that might pay less but would be a lot more fun" or also known as "what else I could do if this job doesn't work out."

You know, good, noble, hardworking gigs that don't pay enough but also might let me sleep soundly at the end of the night.

Let's see...what else might be on the list...

Rinse out girl at the hair salon. Sure, my hands would get a little worn out, but hey, all you gotta think about is lather, rinse, repeat.

Gate agent at the Kona International Airport. I think that explains itself.

Guy who stands there with a "slow" sign, waving traffic past a construction zone. Not that I want to actually *do* construction, just be that guy in the orange vest with the disaffected look waving at cars. I hear it pays pretty well!

Run the Ferris wheel at the amusement park. Sure, there is the occasional barfing incident, but mostly you bring people joy. Collect a ticket, strap 'em in and let centrifugal force do the rest.

Cocktail waitress at a Vegas casino. I may not have the legs for it anymore, so it might have to be one of those "off the strip" and rather dark casinos. But I could so wear a spangly dress and wander around saying "Drinks? Anyone need a drink? Drinks?" I imagine you meet some interesting folks with that gig.

Bartender. You know, back in my twenties, even though I had a pretty good office job, I often thought about going to bartender school so I'd have that as a backup. Bartending is more than pulling a tap and washing glasses if you do it right.

Of course, I'd want to be the kind of bartender who could make pretty much any drink you call out without looking at the book. It would be a point of pride. Good bartending is a lost art.

For a while, I thought I could be a Starbucks barista, but after hearing the tales from my New Mexico friend Natalie, I decided maybe not.

When I'd screw up at work, my boss at Sandia used to say I'd be perfect as slurpee machine maintenance man at the local 7-Eleven. Mainly because I'd matriculated at NMSU (as did he) I'm sure.

But being a 7-Eleven employee has often crossed my mind. In my early days in California, when my money was very tight, my local 7-Eleven had a sign up for a night clerk. I *seriously* considered applying.

Sure, it's one of the most dangerous jobs you can have. But it's not so bad, I think. You get to vend many of the most vital food groups in life like beef jerky, 40 ounce malt liquor and day old donuts. This is a key element of the running of our society in a smooth fashion!

Then there is always the ball washer at the local golf course (a job that sounds naughty but isn't). If I also get to scuba dive in the water traps, that's a TOTAL bonus!

Long haul trucker. Weirdly, that's always appealed to me. I suppose that says something about my personality.

Anyhow...there's a lot more on the list. This is but a sampling. But yup, I'm adding Spring Training ballpark groundskeeper.

I'd have to work my way up to nozzle girl, huh? I'd likely have to apprentice as hose holder first.

Top Ten Thoughts...

...That Went Through Evan Lysacek's Mind During His Gold Medal Ice Skating Routine

Heartbroke no more

There's this famous quote from this guy named Bart Giamatti. He was a baseball commissioner and had a bit of character.

Ol' Bart was also a writer. He liked to put down in words what he felt about the game of baseball.

He was a true fan and had a lot to say.

At the end of every baseball season, one of his quotes from a work entitled "The Green Fields of the Mind" is trotted out and poured over by the faithful, including me.

The piece begins "It breaks your heart. It's designed to break your heart."

Bart's talking about how baseball begins all fresh and new and sparkly, stays with you over the course of 162 games, and gives you a story arc that includes Spring, Summer, AND Fall and then goes away abruptly.

Finds you when it is warm, leaves you when it is wet and cold.

Sort of a fair weather friend, that.

And every October, I get a little down. The World Series ends, baseball isn't on the radio anymore and I have to actually decide what to watch on TV instead of having it decided for me.

No longer do I worry over a pitcher's arm or that catcher's bum knee or why the hell that guy took that bad route to get to a routine fly ball.

Baseball leaves a big empty that cannot be refilled.

Like a whirlwind romance that fills my days with daydreams and my nights with passion and I get to thinking I could never live without it.

And then it leaves me.

But weirdly, baseball is a fickle lover.

Because come March, baseball finds it's way back to my arms.

Yesterday, because I could feel the return on the wind, I engaged in my annual viewing of "Bull Durham." It's a preparatory event. An ablution. A ritual cleansing to prepare me for the return.

This morning I will have either "61*" or "The Natural" playing in the background while I work, to continue my readiness.

And then, today, at noon, or 12:05 actually, I will once again hear Duane Kuiper say "Giants baseball is on the radio."

While it may only be a Spring Training game, some harmless flirtation and not the real thing yet, I will listen. I might even cry when I hear Jon Miller's voice (it's happened before).

I will hear how Bengie Molina may or may not have lost weight. I will hear how our multi-million dollar Cy Young winning, dope smoking kid has fared in the off season. I will listen for details on the new kids and assessments on the old kids and I will find that yawning chasm inside of me will begin to quiet again.

Because today, my love has returned to me.

It broke my heart, but I will forgive and forget. I will give myself with reckless abandon, not caring that October looms somewhere out there. No, today I will pretend that it will never leave me again.

God I love baseball.

I suppose "they" are right sometimes

You know what "they" say?

They say when you have a blister filled with water, you shouldn't pop it.

They say that water is protective. Keeps it from getting infected.

BAH! I say to they.

It's no big deal. I pop my blisters all the time. I hate that poofy skin feeling.

I used to take ballet lessons (on toe) as a kid. I have worn many a cheap shoe in my life. I've had a lot of blisters.

I pop 'em all.

No big whoop.

On Sunday The Good Man and I went for a long walk out at a nearby nature preserve. I was wearing new shoes. I got a pretty big blister on my left ring toe. I popped it. Whatev.

It now has refilled itself. With gray-green pus.

Gross!

I hate it when "they" are right....

(Channeling my inner Russian grandmother. Betcha didn't know I had one of those? But I do.)

"Why? Why, bubbie? Why did you pop that blister? You know what they say, don't you? They say don't pop blisters. Now they are going to have to cut your toe off! And put on a jacket!"

Getting to know you, er, me

Hey, contrary to popular opinion, I haven't run off screaming into the sunset (a la Daffy Duck). Nope, I only managed to contract a vile form of stomach flu or maybe food poisoning that knocked me down for about five days last week.

It was the worst stomach ailment I've ever experienced in a life that's crossed paths with plenty of gastroenteritis over the years.

It was bad. Real bad.

And you know, a year and a half into this marriage thing, I'm still learning how to handle things like living in a house with another person and only one bathroom.

Good times. We made it through the crisis with compassion and humor. Lots of humor.

The good news is, I'm back up and around and able to eat solids again.

Over the past week, I noted a few new commenters on the blog and so I have to stop a moment and say "hi!" and a big thanks to new readers.

I'm coming up on a three year anniversary of this crazy blog (March 17), and slowly but surely the number of visitors is increasing.

Which is amazing. I have much gratitude, thank you!

There was a perplexing comment made on a post from last week, and it got me thinking. Since I was doing a lot of lying around whining most of last week, I had some time to think.

In light of some new folks hanging around, a pending three year blogaversary, and my wading back into blogging after a tough week, I decided a "getting to know me" post might be in order.

My longtime readers may find most of this stuff a retread of what they've already learned over the years. But for new readers, this might be a good sort of background to kick things off.

Here we go, some fun facts:

As my bio says, I'm a New Mexico girl who is now living in California. I've been in California for about thirteen years now, but still, New Mexico is where I lived the longest. For better or worse, that's shaped my outlook on life.

I was raised in Albuquerque back in the 70's and 80's when Albuquerque was growing, but still had a lot of dirt roads running through town.

Being homesick for New Mexico was the genesis of this blog. That is where it started, but I've managed to veer off course quite a bit over the past three years. And I like it!

My favorite color is red. Unless it is purple. Then there is my love affair with orange. And cobalt blue. Man, I love cobalt blue. And black. Can't go wrong with black. I like bold colors. It's hard to pick just one.

I'm the youngest child of three, which has definitely skewed my worldview, whether for better or for worse is in the eye of the beholder.

My dad was an engineer, which definitely skewed my worldview.

Growing up, I was deeply and positively affected by the prevailing Hispanic and Native American cultures (my ethnicity was the minority on the playground) of New Mexico. I identify more with the cultures in which I was raised then my own genetic lineage. It makes me happy.

I also grew up "a little bit country," a fact that makes me proud, and sort of perplexes the people I live and work with in the urban Bay Area (I dropped a "this ain't my first rodeo" on a conference room full of people, including a VP of manufacturing, in my first year working here. It brought the room to a screeching halt. I rather enjoyed that.)

The mid-2000's were tough years for me. 2005 was a landmark year.

In 2005:

A long-term relationship had ended badly the year before and being alone again after all that time was disorienting.

After a close call in 2004, in February of 2005 (yesterday, to be exact) my father finally passed away after a valiant fight with a terrible lung disease. My relationship with my dad had been complicated...so this was also disorienting.

Four months later, my best friend from high school died of cancer that had started in her ovaries and ended in her brain. She left an adorable young daughter and a grieving husband behind.

In 2005 I was morbidly obese. Not much more to say on that topic.

However, that summer, after a long talk from a doctor after a regular physical in which the words "you will die" came up a lot, I began to eat better, smaller, healthier, and I exercised as much as my aching joints would allow. Funny what watching someone die will do for your motivation.

The weight started coming off fast. I lost over 100lbs in a year.

In November 2005, I met this guy. A really charming fellow. I may have even chased him around a little bit. Thankfully he let me catch him, and we married in 2008.

2005 made me realize that in order to know great joy, I also had to know great sorrow.

The kind of sorrow that rips your guts out, makes you afraid to leave your home, and makes you wonder if you can ever be happy again. Then I learned that surviving it can manage to produce this amazing guy who actually gets your sense of humor and will put up with your sh*t.

Ain't that a kick?

By the by, I refer to my husband as The Good Man on this blog.

I have a cat. She's a pain in the ass. She also has one of the best personalities I've ever known (human or animal). I try not to be "the cat lady" and blog too much about my pet. Sometimes it can't be helped.

When I let myself dream, what I most want to be when I grow up is a published writer. I write fiction mostly, but non-fiction too. I have six completed but unpublished novels. I self-published a seventh just to see how the process works. Yes, I have a book on Amazon. It's actually not that hard to do.

This blog makes me sit down and write every weekday, and has improved my writing skills exponentially over the past three years.

I also love to craft. I make mostly Mexican inspired pieces and I'm not bashful in my love and admiration for The Crafty Chica. It was one of her books that kicked me in the butt and gave me a voice for all the artistic ideas that I had rolling around in my head. A link to my Etsy store is on the left side of the page.

I'm also a very, very amateur photographer. I've been taking classes and my technique is improving, but there is a long way to go. I tend to believe more in getting a great shot from the camera and less Photoshop, so that means I'll likely always languish as an amateur. I weary of all the over corrected and over Photoshopped photos in the world, but that's just me.

I like pie. Sour cherry mostly, though a good tart key lime runs a close second. Blueberry is nice too.

I'm a brunette. My eyes are a greenish-brown.

This photograph scares me more than you know. (NM's Governor Richardson)

My favorite author is Larry McMurtry. But my favorite book of all time is "Red Sky at Morning" by Richard Bradford. I read it through again two days ago in my stomachache haze. I love that book. It's very New Mexico.

At the request of The Good Man, I'm now reading "A Moveable Feast" by Hemingway. I love to read but I'm not much on classic authors. The Good Man is working on my literary education. He even got me to read another Steinbeck. After "The Grapes of Wrath" I swore I'd never read another Steinbeck.

In return, he's read "Bless Me Ultima" by Rudolpho Anaya and he's currently working on "Red Sky at Morning" (it was a deal, I'd read "Cannery Row" and he had to read "Red Sky at Morning.")

I'm very fond of my Fat Baby boots. They make me ridiculously happy.

I am blessed to have a very small selection of very, very good friends. I met my best friend back in 1988. We can never part ways. We know too much dirt about each other. We are the Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid of New Mexico, only with a lot more green chile.

I like to eat. A lot. Lately, I also like to cook, so that works out nicely.

I am a rabid San Francisco Giants baseball fan, no matter how many times they break my heart. Which has been a lot over the course of a lifetime.....

I like to sing off key and loudly in the confines of my car. I'm not ashamed. Not even when I forget that I left the windows open.

I believe laughter the antidote to most of what ails the world. Sometimes I laugh inappropriately. But I always say, "excuse me" when I do.

I will always laugh at a fart joke. I don't know why. It's juvenile and uncouth. I don't care. Fart jokes are funny. There may have been a few over the past week as a stomach ailment provides a lot of...er...fodder.

I have jury duty this week. I wonder if I'll get called into service? Sometimes, I secretly wish that I get to be on a jury. I'm wildly fascinated by the justice system.

Did I mention I like pie?

Ok, well, there's obviously a lot more to know, but that's probably more than enough for now. Stick around for a while, if you want. I'm sure I'll blurt out more embarrassing facts about myself soon.

If you've managed to read all the way through this, well, I thank you.

If you have been reading the blog for a while, good to see you again.

If you are new to my brand of writing, welcome. I look forward to getting to know you.

And now, back to acting like Daffy Duck...