Hot Air

I spent the past four days with two wonderful friends - Dee Hunt from Nevada and her sister, Sheila Hansen from California - and oh man (or oh man-less) did we girls have fun!

It is International Balloon Fiesta weekend, so hot air balloons were coasting through bright blue New Mexico skies for most of the past several days. And that isn't the only place hot air was coasting.

Bring the three of us together for more than a few hours and I can assure you that a LOT of hot air was released. We ate and talked and shopped and talked and rested and talked and...well, I imagine you get the picture.

A lot of our conversation was important, tied to current events or family and friends, but enough of it was just the three of us blowing off steam individually or collectively that the hot air balloon fiesta definitely had some good competition.

It's good to have friends you can trust and 'air' your thoughts, concerns, opinions, fears, rants and frustrations with. Like I said, there was a lot of hot air coasting through many of our conversations. Although, when I really stop to think about it, we did very little negative sharing in our hot air conversations, it was more like sisters sitting around knitting and talking about the weather (which couldn't have been more perfect).

But in spite of hours and days of togetherness and hot air - inclusive conversations, the Balloon Fiesta really did trump us, with the vibrant colors, floating balloons, blasting propane flames, colorfully dressed crews, wee morning hours, expectant crowd from all over the country, turkey drumsticks at 5 AM, minibuns, breakfast burritos and fried cheese curds (etc, etc).

My friend Tom Mizner was our tour guide and it was so fun to be at the Balloon Fiesta with someone who has "been there-done that-and worn several t-shirts over the years".  He's crewed, parked, visited and more, so he knew where to park, when to arrive, what was going on, etc. He was great and really made the event much more fun than it would have been without him. AND he put up with all that hot air too!

We stood in the middle of literally hundreds of hot air balloons as they were inflating, HUGE caverns of color and hot air that floated away from us sometimes one at a time, and sometimes lifting in concert. It was so much fun!

Oh yeah, and when I say  'the morning', I mean THE MORNING: we were THERE at 5:30 AM and completely awestruck with HUGE smiles for the next several hours, then headed home by 9:30 AM. It was like ending our day when it should have been starting. Naps, shopping, and dinner with friends followed. By bedtime, we crashed hard. All hot air was spent.

I have never seen anything like the Balloon Fiesta and will return again next week with the ABQ Chamber, and hopefully in years to come as well. I will miss my two dear friends, but am certain the hot air will keep me going.

Firepit Blues

Last night I celebrated my 55th birthday with friends at the Pueblo Harvest Cafe in Albuquerque. The entertainment on the patio was Hillary Smith, an amazing vocalist who incorporates a collection of genres in her performance, but somehow always undercoats the sound with a bluesy depth that rattles around inside the listener until it settles in for good. I loved every minute of last night's 3 sets and am carrying those soulful sounds with me still.

Following dinner, dancing and Hillary, the plan was for all of us to regroup at my friend Karen's house for a firepit - one of our favorite forms of entertainment. I had arrived at the Cafe still dressed in a skirt since I had come straight from 2 days at the New Mexico Turn Around Conference, so I decided to go home to change before heading to the firepit.

I arrived home, slipped out of the skirt and into my jeans and then realized I was totally exhausted. I had just come off three solid days of events and more importantly, 6 weeks of travel, family and stuff that had drained me. I laid down on my bed for a minute and that was the end of that. I slept from 9:15 PM to 7:15 AM - 10 hours. I don't think I even moved.

I missed the firepit. And my friends. And S'mores. And even "some more".  I am disappointed. I wish I hadn't been so tired.

So today I have the firepit blues, but I did sleep well last night and that's probably a good thing.

Earl Gilliam "Texas Blues Piano"

Sometimes Business is Personal

Today's business is personal.

A project I have been working on launched today and I am celebrating by sharing the news with everyone I know! I love the logo, don't you?

Today is 09/09/09 and the 9 club is live. Take a look, bookmark and follow us, and join the battle for freedom!

Lee Greenwood "God Bless America"

Ten Random Thoughts

I am too tired tonight to write anything cohesively coherent, so here are some random thoughts that are definitely not cohesive and only marginally coherent.

Random Thought #1 - Cedar City's appeal just bumped up several notches with the possibility of living within boundaries of the "Wagon Trail Ward". Is that a cool name or what?

Random Thought #2 - Little America in Salt Lake City was always a popular place to stay for General Conference, but I never had the opportunity (we usually stayed with friends). All was not lost, however, because unbeknownst to me there is more than one Little America and recently I stayed in the Little America in Flagstaff. I love the Legend of Little America (found on a postcard in the lobby) so I will share it here:

Back in the eighteen-nineties when Little America's founder was a young man herding sheep in a dreary section of Wyoming, he became lost in a raging northeast blizzard and was forced to camp out all night at the place where the original Little America now stands. O that long January night in a terrible storm with fifty-mile per hour winds and 40 below temperatures, he longed for a warm fire, something to eat and wool blankets. He thought what a blessing it would be if some good soul would build a house of shelter at that desolate spot. Many times in his heart he dreamed of a haven for travelers with a crackling fire, a warm bed, delicious food.

In the nineteen-thirties when he saw Admiral Byrd's picture of "Little America" in the Antarctica and his isolation so many miles from his base camp, it reminded the founder of his experience in the Wyoming blizzard. The thought came back to fulfill his dream, to erect a haven of refuge on the spot of his harrowing experience. The name, of course, was a natural "Little America".

From its beginning on Wyoming's southwestern desert, Little America has grown to include properties throughout the western United States.

Random Thought #3 - Sometimes happiness is staring you right in the face and you look right past it.

Random Thought #4 - Every day counts.

Random Thought #5 - Personal trainers are for those with time and money. Dedication really has nothing to do with it.

Random Thought #6 - The grass only grows greener on the other side of the hill if it rains more on that side.

Random Thought #7 - Sanity is a state of mind.

Random Thought #8 - Never go to sleep with your pistol beneath your pillow.

Random Thought #9 - Dirt is a lesser evil then dead grass.

Random Thought #10 - If I want to live somewhere because of the coolness of a name, what could be a better choice than Albuquerque?!?!

Depeche Mode "Enjoy the Silence"

Legally Redhead

So, do you remember the scene in Legally Blonde where Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon) plants herself on the grass in a lawn chair near the field where all the guys are playing football? You know, it's the scene where the guys lose focus on their game and almost fall over themselves (drooling) when they look at her size 2 body tucked into the pink lawn chair with her crossed bare legs and a designer lunch box of gourmet snacks and cool drinks?

Yes? Well, that's exactly how my day went today. Kind of, well, almost. Actually, that's not how my day went at all and that is not even close to how I looked today when I sank into my lime green lawn chair which I had planted in the grass near the area where all the guys (and gals) were playing volleyball . I even crossed my jean clad legs and casually enjoyed my homepacked lunch of hummus and crackers. But I didn't get the same reaction; not even close.

I had a great time watching and chortling and making wisecracks from the sidelines, but I was not decked out in hot pink anything and my cool drink did not have a colorful paper umbrella jauntily perched in the cup. Oh, and I was not wearing pink feathery heels, nor was my tshirt hot pink lycra -- my shirt was yellow and I was wearing flat brown leather sandals.

Other than that, we were exactly the same. Really. Almost twins. It's amazing. Don't let the hair fool ya.

However, I think I broke the tie with fresh blueberries and cherries (which I shared). Elle Woods may be a California blonde, but I am a New Mexico redhead.

And that means that I win!

Legally Blonde "Watch Me Shine"

A Fine Line

I crack myself up and it's a good thing since I spend so much time with me, myself and I. Two very recent instances of my own laughter at myself come to mind. Both instances are great examples of the fine line between sanity and insanity. I, of course, am sane. And so are me and myself.

The fine line, defined:

A) During a regular morning walk earlier this week my mind was whirling as it typically does, jumping from topic to topic and person to person and emotion to emotion (think: whirligig action in a monsoon). As I was maneuvering my way through the adobe abode neighborhoods of the Nob Hill area in Albuquerque, simultaneously navigating the tornado-like thoughts colliding in my mind, something struck me as funny and I found myself laughing AFTER I had made a verbal (out loud) (to no one) conversational observation. As soon as I heard myself making audible sounds (thankfully, I did not answer myself) I looked around to see if anyone was looking. I can't be certain, but I think I was alone on the street at that moment. However, I do think that me and myself were listening.

Later that same day I was walking in another part of Albuquerque to a business appointment downtown and passed an old, wrinkled and stooped woman who appeared to be homeless. As I passed her, presumably unnoticed, I felt compassion for her situation, but only a few minutes later I heard sounds from behind me and turned to look at the source. It was the same old woman, now about 20 feet behind me and walking the other way, with no one else on the street, talking audibly to herself (out loud) (to no one). I immediately thought, "Well, just another crazy old woman...." and then froze in place as almost at the same moment another thought surfaced, "Well, she sounded just like you did this morning, you crazy old woman." I immediately stood up straighter and zipped my lips. And as if that's not enough, sadly there is more:

B) Earlier today I posted a comment on my boss' Facebook page regarding his link to a blog entry concerning high speed rail in New Mexico. Because I am not a policy analyst (like he is), I tend to look at life and issues from "the lighter side" and my comments are typically tongue-in-cheek. Today as I typed my typically tongue-in-cheek comment and hit "POST", I laughed out loud as I read through it once more and said (out loud) (to no one) (as I was laughing), "I love my sense of humor."

I really don't think any further comment would be in my best interest, do you? Thank heavens I can laugh at myself, and so can me and myself, cuz it's not real often anyone else does.

Ok, enjoy your day; me, myself and I are heading off on a short road trip and we plan to share some laughs along the way.

(PS I am still laughing)

Blood, Sweat and Tears "Spinning Wheel"

Life in an Adobe Abode

When I was a child, my Dad used to get up on Saturday mornings to "cut the grass". I always thought that was a funny way to say that he was going to "mow" the grass with a lawn mower.

Well, last night, a little different from my Dad's M.O., after the beautiful NM sunset and as temperatures dropped along with the sun, I also cut the grass. Literally.

Since my lawn is basically dirt (the result of a landlord/owner who after 6 months STILL has not done the zeriscape we discussed when I signed the lease in early December 2008 - yes, I am a bit frustrated over this), anyway, since my lawn is basically dirt, there isn't much grass to worry about.

And since I don't have a lawn mower or machete or lawn clippers, but I do have about a dozen tall tufts of grass growing wild along the sidewalk leading to my front patio, I needed to do something to tidy up the lovely dirt entry to my simple adobe abode (oh, that's just WAY to fun to type...ADOBE ABODE. ADOBE ABODE....a real finger calisthenics and mind concentration exercise).

Anyway, as I was standing in my gravel driveway looking at my ADOBE ABODE and daring not to look to either side of my house where lattice trellis and rock walkways lead visitors through natural vegetation and red rock to the front doors of the ADOBE ABODE residences of my two lovely neighbors, I had a brilliant idea.

If Dad got up on Saturday mornings to "cut the grass" in his yard in front of his 60's California rambler, I most certainly could get down on my knees on a Wednesday night to "cut the grass" in my yard in front of my 40's New Mexico ADOBE ABODE. The only difference is that I would not be mowing the grass, I would literally be cutting the grass.

Off I ran to the kitchen to grab my favorite kitchen scissors and then back to the scraggly sidewalk area to drop and cut (there was no fire, no need to drop and roll). So onto my knees I went and the barbering began.

I CUT the grass, with scissors!

There was a lot more to cut than I thought, so I spent quite some time cutting and cutting and cutting the grass along the sidewalk leading to the lovely patio in front of my ADOBE ABODE.

But I chuckled at myself the whole time, on my knees cutting the grass with kitchen scissors (and since I was in the appropriate position, also praying that no one would walk by).

Thank heavens that I have a sense of humor, or "cutting the grass" with kitchen scissors in front of my ADOBE ABODE in the moonlight might not have ended so charmingly.

Cutting Crew "I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight"

Something Out of the Norm

The world lost a legend yesterday. Michael Jackson died at 50. I did a quick Google search for a connection between Michael Jackson and New Mexico, never expecting to find anything, but life is just full of surprises and I found something - not exactly what I was hoping for, but a tribute of sorts nonetheless. The YouTube clip is described as "something out of the norm." I believe that's an apt description of Michael Jackson as well.

I still remember the "real" Michael, the younger Michael, the unaltered Michael, the innocent Michael. He was amazing. He smiled. I hope he is smiling now, and may he rest in peace.

And may Farrah Fawcett rest in peace as well. In her death, as in her life, she was shadowed by others, but I know that she made an impression on me. She was 'something out of the norm' too, always her own person. Three's Company was one of my favorite TV shows in its day and I tried for years to get my hair to be a redhead version of the Farrah Flip. It just never happened.

I loved Michael's sound and his moves, and I may not be able to master the Farrah Flip or dance like Michael, but I can still rock out to Billie Jean in my own way. So can this guy and these guys...enjoy.

UNM Dancing Guy "Billie Jean"

Filipino Inmates "Thriller"

Michael Jackson Memorial "Heal the World"

Manny Mania - Not

Isotopes Park was filled with sopping dred-heads last night. We were all there to see Manny Ramirez play. He was slated as the first hitter of the game. So what if he had taken feminine hormones? So what if he had a 50 game suspension? So what if he was only there for a few days, and ONLY because he was suspended and couldn't play for the Dodgers? So what if we were sitting in the rain? So what if our dreds were dripping?

It was Manny Ramirez, probably the best hitter in baseball history. And he was playing with the Isotopes! We didn't care! Maybe we should have, but we didn't. We were there to see an amazing baseball player.

But someone else cared. The Dodgers cared. It was raining and Manny had to go inside. He couldn't play anymore. Too much risk of injury.

Huh. Wasn't rain part of the fun? Now what were we all gonna do with our newly-purchased dreds? And all those disappointed Little Leaguers. Sad. There's really no excuse.

What can you do? Just play ball!

Kenny Rogers "The Greatest"

They're With Us!

Fresh air. Hot dogs. Cool drinks. Girlfriends. Baseball. Sunshine

Mix those ingredients and you have a fuuu-uu-nn night!

Shake 'em up a bit, and fuuu-uu-nn just became fuuu-uu-nn-errr!

Well, we were "shaken up" a bit at the Isotopes game last week. Four gal pals enjoying a rather boring first 3 innings and yelling our lungs out in support or frustration, depending on the play.

The guys in the row directly behind us kind of chuckled for a bit, after all, they were about 23 and we were an average age of about 55-young, but soon we were all 'on the same team' and cheering and ranting in harmony. They liked us! We had spunk. We had spirit. We were not 23, but we weren't dead! And evidently, they noticed...and they weren't the only ones...

Suddenly, a group of 6 military guys about 7 rows below us jumped from their chairs at the same time we did, and hooped and hollered in a (second) harmonizing chorus to our cheers. They turned around to cheer US on and one of them hollered...."Ladies, come on down, sit here in front of us! We have beer, we have peanuts, we love your spirit, come on down!"

We were flattered, stunned, tempted, hesitant and laughing through the whole interchange, midst raucous cheering I might add (we never stopped!). We were alllll shook up and having a blast!

Suddenly, and to our surprise, the 23-year-old choir behind us yelled down to the 30-year-old chorus below us, "They're with us!"

OMGosh! What?

Who? What? We're with who? We are? REALLY? Wow. We laughed so hard! We loved those guys, the young and the younger.

We stayed put, but there's no question...we were making beautiful music together. (Go 'Topes!)

Original "Take Me Out To the Ballgame"

The Little Things

Sometimes it's the little things that can bring us out of the doldrums. For me, a quick reality check and attitude adjustment, a tall glass of mojito lemonade and a New Mexico sunset are pretty much all it takes.

No, it doesn't FIX things, it's just a band-aid, but it sure takes the edge off and makes life seem a lot more fun.

Satellite Coffee in Albuquerque (I can walk to one!) is now selling mojito lemonade - lemonade, ginger and mint. It's delicious and refreshing. I bought two. I drank one while watching the sunset last night on my front patio (following my self-administered reality check and attitude adjustment) and I carefully perched the second glass in my freezer. I actually dreamt during the night about the slushy mojito that I am going to enjoy later today!

It's a new day and I am smiling. Hope you are too.

Charlie Chaplin "Smile"

It's a Zoo Out There!

It was lovely. A concert at the zoo.

I was at the Albuquerque Zoo / BioPark (with friends) for a concert last night and it couldn't have been much better. The weather cooperated, the concert was, well...spicy in a cajun sort of way and knee-slappin' fun, Gail brought the food (and a table and tablecloth AND a candle), Ed provided drinks, I donated carrots and dark chocolate (an interesting gourmet combination) and the crowd was friendly and colorful.

It was a night of toe tappin', arm swingin' music, covert people watchin', friendly camaraderie and dang good food and drink - all done in camp chairs spread as far as you could see on green grass beneath peacock laden trees. (I am choosing to leave out lengthy commentary on forgetting my hair tie and considering a bungie as an option to pull my hair off my neck, inadvertantly locking my keys in my trunk and not realizing it until the end of the night, and other self-inflicted and unimportant incidentals of an otherwise marvelous night).

Back to the topic....yes, peacocks. In the trees. And some struttin' their stuff on the ground too. Real peacocks, not men. Birds with beautiful long feathers. (sheesh)

AND, cottontails...genuine honest-to-gosh, look-like-they're-stuffed-but-they're-real cotton tailed bunny rabbits. (wanderin' free near the condor aviary, which made me a bit nervous); they were hoppin' all over the place, and so cute!

And, that's not all, we also saw New Mexico's famed grey wolf, an endangered species. We saw two, in fact, and they were beautiful animals the size of a german shepherd.

And flamingos (just like in the picture >), and bald eagles and monkeys (not in the same cage)....and more!

Now, in case you are wondering, the animals - with the exception of the peacocks, were not sharing the concert venue with us, they were safely sequestered in their respective "natural habitat" spaces SURROUNDING the concert venue. Now, why doesn't that give me a sense of comfort? Anyway, during a break in the concert (before dark), we were able to wander some parts of the zoo and visit with some of the non-human zoo inhabitants. They weren't much for conversation, but they did stop for a minute and look at us curiously - well, the bunnies didn't, they were too busy hoppin'around , probably lookin' for a partner and a place (altho something tells me that they aren't real particular) to continue their prolific habits. (speaking of strutting peacocks, how about bouncing bunnies?)

I would have watched those bouncing bunnies all night, but it was suggested that I should listen for the lions; I took the advise very seriously. It made me wonder just how close the lion enclosure was AND if cajun music was especially appealing to the huge felines AND if the cages were securely locked. I suddenly had a vision of lions roaring in a kind of sing-a-long effort, then came the thought of the wolves howling in harmony - and then, how long would it be before the monkeys started banging on bongos?!? We could have had our own zoo symphony, a sort of Doctor Doolittle band.

And we did, but not with the wild animals or Doctor Doolittle: "The cajun band, Fuefollet, is just like a classic gumbo, Cajun music is fresh, spicy, and full of flavor! “Feufollet” is no different. Their blends of music tantalize the ears and captivate the mind. With each new album the band dances farther into the kitchen to rewrite the book of traditional Cajun affairs.

Their newest album screams “bam” and awakens our senses to the future of Cajun Music. During the show this quintet will re-teach us the traditional Cajun and open our eyes and hearts to future of this unique musical genre that is taking the nation by storm." (quoted from the Albuquerque Zoo Concert website)

Fue follet is french, in English we would say "will o'the wisp".

Will o'the wisp is a term used to describe the ghostly lights sometimes seen at night or twilight over bogs, swamps, or marshes. It looks like a flickering lamp, and is sometimes said to recede if approached. Today's city version of "will o'the wisp" is the Jack-O-Lantern.

A zoo with Jack-O-Lanterns flickering, now that's a thought: not sure who would be more scared, the humans or the animals. Which leads to a follow up thought (or two) - if zoo's are designed to protect humans from wild animals, 1) why do we have them in the first place - we could just leave the animals where they belong and reduce the risk to city-living humans greatly, and 2) why are the animals protectively situated behind bars and in cages and beyond moats and wide expanses of 'natural habitat' and fences, while we are allowed to wander aimlessly through their midst - at night, no less?!?!? Oh, never mind.

All I can say is that the musical version of a jack-o-lantern lit up our spirits and caused our souls to dance. The Louisiana-based Feufollet was fun, unique and entertaining. You can find out more about them by clicking here .

And that's all the thinkin' this redhead can do right now, so to sum this up....

Last night I thoroughly enjoyed spicy gumbo music served up with ghostly lights while sitting on a camp chair midst silent lions, odorous flamingos, accomodating friends and cotton-tailed bunny rabbits - all in the middle of a zoo and under the cover of peacock-decorated trees and a clouded sky. By candlelight. Barefoot. Without a hair tie. And with the realization that there are some things in life you can't get enough of. "Please sir, I want some more....."

Feufollet

Livin' in the Q

Turkey Town. Berque. ABQ. Duke City. The Q. The Big Al. The 505. Albuturkey. Albuquirky. Q. Oh yeah, that's my quirky turkey town.

Albuquerque.

New Mexico.

The Q in The Land of Enchantment.

Summer concerts. Ninety degree weather. Amazing sunsets. Friendly people. Indian culture. 300 days of annual sunshine. The Sandia's. Weekend hikes. UNM. The Pit. Archeological sites. Hot air balloons. Southwest food. Roadrunners. Chile - red and green. Southwest architecture. Camping. Cactus. The Rio Grande. The Zia. Turquoise. Firepits. Silver. Bolo Ties. Long skirts. Denim. Boots. Jeans. Vests. Fresh air. Outdoor recreation. The Big I. Isotopes baseball. Xeriscape.

The Q. It's my 'hood.

Beep! Beep!

Bugs Bunny "I Should of Turned Left at Albuquerque"

I'm Not in High School Anymore!

Residency. It seems like a fairly simple concept. You either live somewhere, or you don't, unless you are dealing with institutions of higher education. And then residency becomes a complicated matter requiring affidavits, testimonials, utility bills, state ID and begging.

Here in New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment, UNM admits any student who has moved to the state for employment as an enchanted resident. No higher tuition. I qualify. Hip hip hooray! (And I am enrolled.)

In Utah, the "This is the Place" state, SLCC seems to have an issue with the fact that Kalen traveled to Brazil on a Rotary Exchange (as a student from Brighton High School, I might add) and is telling her that "this is not the place"(ie: they consider her a non-resident), thus warranting higher tuition to them.

Why is this so difficult? Kelly had a similar problem at SUU. She fought for two years before they finally figured it out. Maybe it's a conspiracy of some kind!

Seriously, it seems to me that an underage student, still registered with Brighton High School and living in SLC with her step-dad upon return from Brazil prior to renting her own apartment in the "This is the Place" city, should be a resident student. Done.

This is not brain surgery.

I am certain it will all work itself out, but today I had to chuckle after offering to help Kalen by making a call to SLCC with an explanation of her residency.

Kalen's response?

"I am not in high school anymore. Don't call, Mom. I will take care of it."

OK! Deal! Touche! Onward and upward! I'm here if you need me! You go girl!

I remember those days after high school, it truly was a joyous time. I loved making my own decisions, coming and going as I pleased, living on my own, decorating for the first time in colors other than the avocado green that my Dad had painted everything in my bedroom, and sleeping whenever I wanted (and not sleeping whenever I wanted).

Those were the days...and days they were. Not months, years, decades, but days, possibly weeks, because it wasn't too long before those high school days of yore looked fairly decent in retrospect (without the silliness and drama, of course) and living as an island became a bit lonely. But I wouldn't change a thing. It was a learning experience.

And now it's Kalen's turn. And I am behind her 100%, silently now, adrift from the island shore, and I will row in closer and be a bit louder when and if she needs me in the future, but no matter what, my role as Mom has now changed forever. My little girl isn't in high school anymore and that's a fact.

So, for now, I will enjoy a lemonade while sitting on my front patio in the Land of Enchantment, and smile as I think about my Mom and how she watched from a distance after I left home too, and also smile with thoughts of Kalen forging into the world with determination, smarts and a quick wit...with her Mom watching from a distance.

Residency? Pffft.

She'll get it. After all, she is a resident of the state of Utah and has been for several years. It's simple. But she is dealing with higher ed and folks with advanced degrees.

Which begs the question...why do overeducated folks have to make things so difficult? Maybe I don't want to get my degree, even if I do have residency....or maybe I do so that I can think in the same detailed fashion and overcomplicate things even more.....hmmm, I better think about this.

Back to lemonade, it's much easier.....

High School Musical

Just me and Willie

There was a time in my life when I ached for road trips....and the beach, but that's a topic for another post.

I still love road trips. They clear my mind. As a friend says (more or less) there's nothing like seeing dust in the rear view mirror.

Well, yes, pretty much, sort of...that's almost true. The past few months have given me ample opportunity to see dust in my rear view mirror as I have trekked back and forth and back and forth between Albuquerque and Salt Lake City as if it was a normal commute. At this point, I am ready to see my rear view mirror laying in the dust somewhere, while I sit on a camp chair and drink something wonderful with NOWHERE to go!

Life has been hectic, but every trip has been worth it, no matter how much I am complaining at this moment. It could be a result of my sore bottom, a lack of sleep, two new lines beneath my eyes, a dwindling back account due to so much travel, or..........MAYBE it's because I got a ticket last night.

Yep, I did. I was not happy about it either. No signs, no warning, two lanes, but I was ticketed for passing in a no passing zone.

If it hadn't been so late, if it hadn't been dark, if he hadn't looked like a typical, irritatingly macho and very skinny UT trooper, I probably would have done a quick U-Turn after signing on the dotted line and gone back to take pictures.

But I was tired, and he was ornery and I just kept moving forward, irritated as hell, but moving forward.

I have always enjoyed dust in my rear view, and I am certain I will again....but last night, I enjoyed seeing that skinny uniform disappear IN the dust in my rear view. And it won't be long before I am back in the saddle, so to speak.

I may not ACHE for road trips these days and Southern Utah will be a bit richer when I pay my fine and I will be a bit poorer, but no one can take away my love of seeing the dust in my rear view. Not even a skinny uniformed trooper in the middle of the night.

On the road again...........but I am taking my camp chair along.

Willie Nelson "On the Road Again"

Guac or Glock? That is the question.

I don't know about you, but avocado's were never a favorite food of mine in my youth. I watched my parents gloat over every slice when both my sister and I turned down their offer to share the mushy green fruit/vegetable. (That's just fine, girls, that leaves more for us!")

As I got older and attended parties in high school, guacamole dip (fondly referred to as "guac" by connoisseurs) was often displayed attractively in the center of a lettuce bowl, or a circle of cherry tomatoes, or on a 70's style stoneware platter of matching color, artfully surrounded by machine-cut tortilla chips as kind of a party standard. I avoided it for years.

It was a momentous occasion when I tried "guac" on one of those perfect triangles of baked cornmeal. And oh my, it was love at first lick, and I have never gone back to plain, unadorned tortilla chips since, or tacos, or quesadillas, or enchiladas, or any food remotely Mexican.

There's something about peer pressure that allows us to step out of our comfort zone, or forces us to. It's so much easier (and sometimes safer) to just blend in. Such was the case with guacamole dip in my early teens. I had to leave the comfort of the anti-avocado group and take a risk with the experimental-food group, I had to break loose and be bold! As an adult (over 30), it was fish. As a mature adult (over 50), it was lamb, mussels, oysters, sushi, antelope, and....well, I could go on but no one would ever want to risk eating at my house again. It's been so fun to branch out and experience new things, to have friends who would encourage me to step just outside of my comfort zone - not too far, but far enough.

And it's not just food. I have been a gun hater since childhood. Fear and lack of knowledge were probably the motivation behind my passionate hatred. I didn't want one, I didn't want anyone in my family to have one, I forbade them from my house, I even tried to keep my boys away from toy guns. I was a zealot anti-NRA gal. You would think I had never seen Charlton Heston with his shirt off and all oiled up.

Which brings me to Glocks - not to be confused with Crocs, the sensational plastic phenomenon of brightly colored, cheap-to-make, dangerous-on-escalators, completely-non-supportive, orthopedically-challenged, but relatively expensive "shoes" that seem to be on everyone's feet these days. The fact that I know what a Croc is has no relation to my owning a pair, I do not...and will not. The fact that I know what a Glock is, has no relation to my owning one, I do not...yet.

I have come to love shooting - at a target. It's relaxing. It requires focus. It allows your mind to leave everything else behind and zoom in on that target in the near or far distance, depending on what you are shooting. You are competing against no one but yourself. It's liberating in some way. It's good for the soul. (yes, to all the anti-gun folks, it is, in it's own unique way).

I have not tried hunting yet. I honestly don't know how I will feel about it. I do know that if I hunt, I won't just kill for sport, I will eat the meat...which, of course, leads into the obvious question. "Really, Jeannie, and how do you plan to do that, with skin and bones and muscle and etc in tact? Or, do you plan to straddle the animal and skin it yourself?" Uhmm, the answer to both questions is an unequivocable "no". Which leads to the next obvious question, "then who in the world is gonna take you hunting AND be willing to skin something you might actually (in a moment of focused concentration) hit?" I have no idea. Let's go back to Guac or Glock, it's a much easier question. My life is too complicated to spend much time on difficult questions right now.

I love the outdoor shooting range (no Crocs there, by the way). I enjoy the fresh air, the equalizing factor that "packing" brings with it. It doesn't really matter what kind of jeans you are wearing, or if you drove up in a broken down truck or snazzy convertible; if you are walking onto that range with guns and ammo (appropriately, safely, respectfully), you are in the brotherhood (or sisterhood, as it were). My favorite outdoor range (so far) is just outside of Silver City, NM. I just love those guys and gals. They are always eager to help me learn a new technique, improve my skills, encourage me to try something new and tease me with some huge gun or rifle that I am in no way prepared to shoot. I am, however, the proud owner of THREE guns now, none of them a Glock...but yeah, you read that right. THREE. Two pistols and a rifle. I told you, I love to shoot!

In fact, I think I will go shooting this weekend, and maybe even take some chips and guac for the range folks.

And when I go hunting someday, maybe I will carefully pack avocados and make guacamole for my hunting companions! You just never know what a woman might take with her on a hunting trip (and yes, I know I have to carry my own stuff, and yes, I know this is why men don't WANT women on their hunting trips (for the most part) UNLESS of course they are hand picked "camp cooks").

Ok, back to serious stuff. Now, what was the question? Guac or Glock? Hmmm.

I love stepping out of my comfort zone, taking a calculated risk, and forcing myself to not just be part of the crowd and blend in. It's so much fun and so good for me! I am, after all, a redhead. I have never blended in very well. Never really wanted to. Now let's see....guac green and glock black. Them's huntin colors, right?!

Question answered! Problem solved!

Guns.N.Roses "Sweet Child O'Mine"

Bruno Lopez

FRIENDS. I loved that show. I have the entire collection from the first episode to the last. Of course, they are still in cellophane wrap because who has time to watch that much TV? Or any TV for that matter?

Those who didn't enjoy the show were so put off by the constant sexual innuendo that they missed the great life lessons that were taught. To each their own, but I wasn't and I didn't. I still laugh until my sides hurt when I remember certain episodes and double over with tears in my eyes from laughter if I actually sit my arse down long enough to watch a rerun.

Bruno Lopez could have been a character in FRIENDS.

He was certainly a character last night with my friends who joined me at my house for a dinner party and to meet Kalen.

Bruno Lopez.

I think I'm in love, and this time it's real!

Who is Bruno Lopez? I really have no idea. I think he's probably someone different to each of us. To my daughter Kalen, he was her quick-witted response to someone asking if she had a tattoo. To my friend Karen, he was the guy revving by my house on his Harley. To Gail, he was the mystery masseuse who relaxed her shoulders earlier in the day. To me, he is still an unknown, but just the mere thought of Bruno Lopez will make me chuckle now and forever.

Friends. I love them. For those who get caught up in the sexual innuendo and flirtateous behavior in a group of 50-something friends, the great lessons of life and friendship are easily lost. But for me, it's been a reaffirmation of who I am, what I want and how important other people are.

Laughter is life-renewing.

Friends are life-sustaining.

When the two work together, it's life-changing.

I am so glad I have friends in New Mexico, my new home. And I am so glad I have friends in Utah, California, Washington and Las Vegas, and many other places where I have landed for a hour or a day or a month or more. They add so much to my life.

I have friends because I can look beyond the silliness that sometimes accompanies camaraderie, and see the goodness in my friends. I have friends because they can look beyond my faults and imperfections and downright failures to see that I am a decent, fun-loving person.

I am grateful for their willingness to focus on the good. And I love their eclectic personalities, each one adds a new dimension to my life and my own personality. Who I am is a combination of all of my friends and family, and even those who are not on those lists. I have (hopefully) learned something from everyone I have met in my life.

The more I think about my friends, the more I believe that a little bit of Bruno Lopez is in all of them - which means he is in me too.

And come to think of it, I just bet he was on FRIENDS.

'Scuse me, I have cellophane to deal with.

Hellooooooooooooooo Bruno!

FRIENDS Theme Song

Red Rock Heaven

I love special days. Granted, every day could be considered "special" (think Utah accent - "Spa-eh-shul"), but there are some that are just more special than others.

This past Mother's Day was one of them. I spent the weekend in Moab. The weather was perfect, the B&B was lovely, but it was the hammock that made the day.

Early afternoon. Slight breeze. About 85 degrees. Book in hand and time to waste. Almost the perfect scenario, but add a hammock beneath tall trees with leaves blowing gently against a blue sky and you are close to nirvana.

I have come to love the out-of-doors more than ever in the past few years. I love the sun on my already sun-kissed skin and the breeze in my hair. The scent of outdoors in its raw and natural state is nearly intoxicating. I even like red dirt in my shoes - well, not really, but that thought brings back some great memories.

Maybe it's the natural beauty of this enchanted state, maybe it's the personal tours I have been privileged to enjoy, or maybe it's yet another rite of passage - appreciation for the earth and respect for the elements.

They say we should take time to smell the roses. In Moab, we took time to see the magnificent arches, and take a nap in a hammock.

And in New Mexico, we should take time to watch a sunset, hike in the fresh air, hit a shooting range and taste the green chiles.

Heaven can't be much better than the smell of a rose, a nap in Moab or a hike in New Mexico.

I believe in heaven.

I really hope there will be hammocks there.

Bryan Adams "Heaven"

Krschhttshttt. Testing. 1 - 2 - 3. Krrrsshttskkshht.

This post is about Agent Freckle (AF) and TattooMama (TM). The guys must have handles too (Cabela and Levi?) but I don't remember them, which is a perfect segue into my next comment:

Tattoo Mama, aka Karen, is my friend. She's a Harley gal and an RN. She's a Virgo too. She's real (no BS here) and a Mom, and she's hooked up - literally.


Last weekend, a group of us gathered to install TM's new CB radio and antenna. And what a team we were (I was, of course, the supervisor).

Following a great breakfast, we all wandered to the VERY well organized garage to begin this project. After a few hours of fun and work, the first official communication cleared the airwaves to cheers all around! It worked! It was hooked up!

TattooMama's handle comes from our coordinated and shared support for her daughter Lauren's new (and first) tattoo. Let me simply say, this tattoo isn't small and it isn't easily hidden.

Gulp. Breath. Chant: "Mom's are cheerleaders, Mom's are cheerleaders."

Second chant: "Eighteen. Eighteen. Eighteen. Legal to make own decisions."

It's a beautiful design that Lauren drew herself from the ancient native american zia symbol. It's a very artistic and appropriate expression.

The zia is easily recognized as the symbol on New Mexico's flag - a red sun with rays streching out from it. There are four groups of rays with four rays in each group. This is an ancient sun symbol of the Native American people called the Zia. The Zia believed that the giver of all good gave them gifts in groups of four.

These gifts are:

The four directions - north, east, south and west.

The four seasons - spring, summer, fall and winter.

The day - sunrise, noon, evening and night.

Life itself - childhood, youth, middle years and old age.

And all of these are bound by a circle of life and love, without a beginning or end.

An honorable message. There are far worse things one could have tattoed onto their forearm.

This new tattoo on the arm of a friend's daughter reminds me of my son's first tattoo, one I was adamantly opposed to and thankfully completely oblivious to for a long while. When I did learn about it (irritation building behind my curious smile as I asked to see it), he tentatively, but proudly, pulled up his shirt to bare an ancient Chinese symbol for (he was telling me quickly) "Integrity".

Gulp. Breath....CHEER! (it wasn't a rose with someone's name on it! or a skull and crossbones!)

Tattoo's still weren't my thing, but evidently they were his.

Why do kids have to grow up? Why do they want tattoos? I don't know. Why do adults want CB handles for that matter? It's all a matter of personal expression.



AgentFreckle morphed from my original handle "The Big Freckle" (given to me in the 80's by Bill Hunt on a trip to Mt. Shasta). Karen used it in reference to me after I managed to take a particularly sleuthful picture, appropriately named "Azzphalt ".

As in all things, photography can be creative too.

It's the simple matter of personal expression.

krrrsshttttt this is AgentFreckle lookin for TattooMama, come in TM??! You out there?...krrrshhsttttt




Hmmm. Didn't copy that. Over (under?) and out.

Steppenwolf "Born To Be Wild"

Joe

Once in a while you meet someone so unexpected that your life is changed by a simple exchange or quiet smile.

For me, one of those experiences happened when I met Joe.

Joe lived in New Mexico, he was an unassuming redneck gentleman, transplanted to the Land of Enchantment from Southern California, a man of few words and a wry sense of humor. He was worn, tired, sometimes almost seeming defeated, but there was something about Joe - not the least of which were his NM skyblue eyes - that charmed me through and through.

He was obviously intelligent, you noticed that in the first conversation. But there was also something unidentifiable, something that made me want to hug this man.

A former sharp shooter and accomplished hunter, he would sit for hours at the range, watching, talking, offering advice on occasion and shooting even less often.

Joe passed away last week. I was fortunate enough to have the time to make the trip south from Albuquerque to Hurley for his memorial service. It was a celebration of the life a man who many probably overlooked, a man who to his friends was much more than a tired redneck. He was charming and unforgettable.

I only met Joe 3 times, but my memory of him is as if I had known him much longer. He made an impression on me, one so deep that I hydroplaned my way south from Albuquerque in the wee hours of the morning and in a raging rain storm to join his friends and family in honoring his life.

It was the least I could do.

So, here's to Joe. I am so glad I met him. May he rest in peace.

Amazing Grace (bagpipes)