Did I Mention You Asked For This?

First of all, I would like to thank my three readers for being so wonderfully encouraging to me to get off my arse and git writing. I appreciate that you still check this site; I really do, since I certainly don't anymore. I deserve some flogging with a wet noodle and constant browbeating, and that's just to get me through my morning.

Since you asked, though, I'll share all my random thoughts with you right now. Prepare for a big, fat stream of consciousness. Remember, you requested this. And since my latest theme has been alllllll about being a tourist in your own state, we'll just co-opt that and call this Being a Tourist In Your Own Head. Or mine, in this instance (although feel free to turn inward at this point and entertain yourself with your own thoughts). Hey, is anybody still reading?

First of all, it's freakin' cold outside. (I would love it if someone would chime in with an It's so cold... joke here.) Auntie M, I heard that even Dallas got snow, and it's not even 2012 yet! And speaking of 2012, is anyone really going to go see that movie? Do we honestly need any more fear and hysteria running loose in our brains? Maybe we do. I'm often thinking along a straight line and neglecting to look at the grayer possibilities, so maybe this movie will actually encourage us to be nicer to each other for the next two years or something.

BWAAAAAAA HA HA HA HAAA!!! >wipes tears of laughter from eyes<

Moving on. I realized yesterday that among the many postings I have not made here lately, there have been none about The Children. Now that I've been placed in middle and high schools to atone for my sins, I really don't have anything cutesy to share about them. The teenagers, not so funny. Dramatic, yes; emotional, yes; annoying, yes; but funny, no. And they are annoying me mightily this week, just let me say. They are whiny and unmotivated and not-direction-following and we can only have one of us like that in the classroom, now can't we? These teenagers have a responsibility to be a role model for the adults around them. We're tired. We're tired of them. We have worked for many years and right about now, that fire of enthusiasm is juuuust about extinguished. We need us some winter break, and we need it bad.

But I don't mean to sound cranky. I just miss the hugs at knee level and the sweet smiles. As much as I miss those little elementary critters, though, I do not miss the planning that it requires to therapize them, mm-mm. And speaking honestly, I really do enjoy the bigger ones, as long as I remember that their aberrant behavior and general annoyingness is a normal stage of development. (Not one that I went through, of course. I was all sunshine and roses as a teenager, just ask my mother. Also, I toot butterflies. And please don't really ask my mother, it will put her in a terribly awkward position, as it makes her uncomfortable to lie. Thank you.)

What were we talking about? Oh, yes, Christmas shopping. One word: online.

Wow, we are just cruising through today's topics. What else ya got? I know you all want to talk about the cats & wabbit, but I simply must refuse. Except to say that Bugs' foot is just fine now, although his attitude remains unimproved.

Um...I'm all tapped out now. Again, as a disclaimer, I must remind all three of you that you asked for this. Now go talk amongst yourselves and start planning the intervention. Smooches!

R.S.V.P. to Your State, Part II: Look to the Sky

Cheap and guaranteed beautiful.

But beware the wrath of the birds, for they eat well and have good aim.

Please RSVP to Your State, Part I

Well, hellooooooooo, everyone!

Nice to see you.

For some months now, I've had it in my mind to do a blog about touristing in your own state. Typically, when we take vacations, we dream about far off destinations, saving our pennies for months or even years so that we can go to some distant place and explore new cultures and risky cuisine.

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for that.

But what about destinations that are right out our front door? How about a trip that takes relatively no planning, limited cash, and can be done in a day? I suggest to you now that you commit to strapping on a camera and becoming a state tourist . Your own city, if you wish to start small, or perhaps just your neighborhood, if you're comfortable right there on the patio with your margarita.

There's so much to see and do just outside our front doors, and it's easy to forget that trembly-on-the-inside excitement when you move to a new place. Remember how that was? You could hardly stop yourself from seeking out cultural stimuli and calling everyone you knew to tell them about that fanTASTIC band you just caught at the AWESOME coffee shop that's been in the SAME hip downtown location for the last 20 years that's shaped like a UFO and has the most AMAZING art on the walls and did you know that you can eat green chile EVEN IN PIE and PEOPLE WILL ACTUALLY GIVE YOU THEIR NEWSPAPERS WHEN THEY'RE DONE WITH THEM and isn't everyone just so nice here?? Where does that excitement go, anyway? When does that subtle shift over to complacency take place? It is so easy to forget about all the great things there still are to do, not to mention the new things that are popping up all the time. It becomes so darn easy to slip into a rut of not going out, not exploring your community, not checking the local alternate rag for new local bands, and finding yourself slipping into that comfortable spot on your sofa that just happens to be shaped like your ass.

Dangerous stuff, that.

I'll admit to falling headfirst into that rut.

When I moved to New Mexico, I was out every weekend checking out everything New Mexican I could find. I went hither and yon, visiting all the cool places I could find, and setting my schedule by whatever the Alibi said. It was groovy. But gradually, through the years, I somehow stopped seeking out all the fun things that Albuquerque and its surrounding areas had to offer. I'm not sure why; I guess I just lost the rush. I've been hot on the trail of rediscovering New Mexico lately, though, and have been having the best ever time finding new things to see or revisiting old favorites. And it's gotten me inspired to inspire YOU. So I'm inviting you to get on board the tourism train, wherever you live. Let's all make a pact to find some new things to do, either something as yet undiscovered or perhaps something you enjoyed that you haven't done in a long while.

We'll even start simple. I suggest that next time you're out and about, keep your eyes open for goodies like this:


I found this while driving to work one morning and it brightened my commute to no end. For thems as don't know, Blake's is a hamburger joint. Usually boards like these are used to advertise a special or disparage the competition, but someone had a stroke of creativity that I would have applauded had I not been using my hands to steer my car.*

So I urge you to do this: simply open your eyes and look around next time you're out doing errands. Seek out the unexpected; I promise you it's out there. You just might end up with a smile on your face. And that, my friends, is our first step into local tourism. Stay tuned for more installments!

*Note: Although I am a vegetarian, I will not be planning a press release, interviewing with Katie Couris, or starting a reality show to express my outrage at this blatant discrimination against me and my peeps. Live and let live.

Oobala, Oobala, Oobala

Hi, friends! How've you been? I've missed you. It's been a great summer, hasn't it? Some people--particularly those crazy academic folk--might tell you that summer is over because school has started, but NO!! I defy it to happen! What ever happened to relying on the calendar, anyway? We've got one more month to go, my peeps, so let's make the most of it. We got some shizzle to look forward to. Let's check it out:

*Santa Fe Indian Market: THIS WEEKEND! Ride the train up, my fancy french donuts, and enjoy a day with the masses secure in the knowledge that traffic is your bitch today.

*Great American Duck Race: ALSO THIS WEEKEND! Go root for your favorite duck and practice your waddle. You know you want to.

*New Mexico Wine Festival: September 5-7. Mmm. Wine. Drink it, my lushious little pinot noirs. Sip from the vine of happiness.

*Zozobra: September 10. Check it.

*29th Annual Pietown Festival! September 12! You know how I feel about pie, and I know you feel exactly the same way! Call me! We'll carpool!

*New Mexico State Fair: September 11-27: All right, technically it crosses seasonal lines, but it's going to be hot out there and I'm still counting it as summer. Nyeh. Funnel cakes trump autumnal equinoxes any day.

That's just a small smattering of what's to come here in New Mexico over the next several weeks. For a look at a hardcore calendar, check this out. It'll make your head spin.

And speaking of calendars, has anyone else heard that the Mayan calendar ends in 2012? Just saying. Am I the only one who feels nervous about this?

Enjoy these last days of summer. I'll be around, drinking a margarita on the patio and enjoying the sensation of warmth. Hope to see you there.

Joy

In the Epic Battle Between Bugs & Wicked, Bugs *Always* Wins. Harumph.

Da poor widdle bunny. He has had a weird and icky foot growth for some time now. I won't go into the details; just allow me to emphasize again the weird and icky parts of the disorder. I had taken him to the vet twice in previous months to have it looked at and removed. The vet, when asked what she thought--in her overly-priced professional opinion--it was, said, "Huh, I really don't know." And apparently she wasn't too interested in finding out. Thank you, vet person! Helpful!

All right, I'll grant you that maybe rabbits aren't the typical house pet brought in to veterinarians. Maybe they shouldn't know the entire range of possible disorders, and maybe they don't have to waste their time looking things up in their special veterinarian medical databases. I understand. But when the growth returned for the third time, I decided to take Bugs to a vet who had ample experience with wabbits. He took one look at it and gave an instant diagnosis. Then he took a closer look and revised his diagnosis. Either way, he felt confident that it could be completely removed, never to bother the bunny again.

Eureka!

So Mr. Buns got to get surgerized yesterday. Bunnies are typically fragile creatures. Extreme temperatures can send them into heart failure; being approached by larger animals can send them into heart failure; being chased around the room by children can send them into heart failure (me, too); going under anesthesia can send them into heart failure. So the procedure wasn't without risks, but the new! improved! vet felt that Bugs would do just fine. And Bugs is a tough old guy; he spent the first two years of his life in a hutch that offered little protection from heat or cold or the noses of curious dogs. So he learned to chill, as well as to develop a really annoying attitude of independence. He's cute and fluffy, so why won't he let me smother him with kisses??

So the strong-willed and hearty wabbit did just swell in his surgery and came home yesterday afternoon, chock full of painkillers. While the nice tech was giving me his post-care instructions, she mentioned that I should watch him to make sure he didn't chew out his sutures (bunnies are big on the chewing). I told her this was my biggest concern, and asked her what powers she thought I had to prevent this. She assured me that it likely would not be a problem, since he hadn't bothered them since his surgery. Oh, yes? I don't think she'd worked with bunnies much. Anyway, she went back to get him and was gone for a really long time. When she came back out, she wore a sheepish look and said, "While we were talking he chewed out four of his sutures, so we had to put some staples in." Mm-hm. She then advised getting some baby socks, cutting out the toe, and putting one on his stapled foot.

Which I did, because I am really, really good at following instructions. I bought these really adorable little infant sockies:

I cut out the toe, wrestled Bugs into temporary submission, and quick-like-lightning put that little sock on his foot. Look how cute:


Yeah, that puppy was off within a nanosecond of putting him into his pen:

Evidence

Bugs is so noncompliant.

I guess if he's going to be all bossy about it, then he's on his own regarding foot maintenance. He's hiding out right now, not wanting me to even set eyes on it. He forgets that he only thinks he can hide from me. I have access to his little hideout from above, ha ha! Of course, this does not negate the fact that, so far, he is totally winning.

# # #

In other news, I came home from a recent trip to discover that somebody had peed on my new expensive yarn from Taos. My first thought was to blame Fiona. After all, look at her:

She lives in a state of unremorsefulness. Plus, she loves peeing where she's not supposed to. Unrepentant, that one.

But then I thought further. Fifi does have some litterbox avoidance issues, to be sure, but she usually limits her bad behavior to the carpet. She's completely apolitical about it, never using her pee to make a statement. So I don't think she would have chosen fancy wool as her voiding platform.

This one, on the other hand, has his own history:



He has great litter box habits, but sometimes cannot help using another container as his potty. He's a man, after all; they like peeing in weird places. So I've decided to pin this crime on him. I think he smelled that animal scent on the wool and could not help himself. He just wanted to be close to the sheep. He's a lover, not a fighter.

Knowing the culprit didn't make clean up any easier, though. Getting cat pee out of yarn sux. See, my yarn had been wound for me at the store and looked like this:


Pretty, eh? Well, guess what? It--two skeins--had to be completely unwound and treated, then rinsed and dried. Very. time. consuming. It's a good thing it's summer is all I can say, with lots of daylight and time available. Here's the yarn in its drying process:


Note: it's very annoying to work with wet wool yarn. Also note: it's very annoying to rewind yarn after it's been set out to dry. Lots and lots of tangles, no matter how careful you are. But they're all rewound into lovely balls now, ready for that project that I probably won't get to for years. And at least they don't smell like pee.

Helloooooo (echo echo echo)!!!

I don't think I've ever seen a REAL-LIVE-IN-PERSON celebrity in my life. I equivocate on this because I forget a lot of stuff, and so it's possible that I spent some time with Jimmy Buffett in the 80s and just don't recall. I simply don't know.

Anyhoo, I have a blog now to log these sorts of things in for eternity, plus telling you guys about it means that you can remind me later after I've completely forgotten (fast forward to party scene):

Me: (sigh) I sure would like to see a celebrity some time.

You guys: But Wicked, you have seen a celebrity. Remember, you blogged about it on July 14th of 2009.

Me: I did?

You guys: Yeah.

Me: Oh. (thoughtful pause) Who was it?

So see what a public service you're all providing? Thank you from the bottom of my heart and the empty spots in my brain. We appreciate it.

Moving along, you may have guessed by now that I have had what may have been my first celebrity sighting!! Woo hoo! And it was not only a sighting, my friends, it was an elbow jostling, direct eye contact, reach-out-and-touch-the-celebrity stalker moment if ever there was one. Oh, yeah. Hollywood, here I come.

Not really.

So here's the story: I was at the International Folk Art Festival in Santa Fe last weekend. Hot as the dickens, I might add, and a parking arrangement that fell just short of a robust hike, but an adventure nonetheless. Santa Fe, as many of you know, is just so Santa Fe-ey. People dress like Santa Fe, they wear their hair like Santa Fe, they smell like Santa Fe. They are so them, and you are so not them. (Okay, it wasn't quite so exaggerated as all this, but what's the point of blogging if you can't use it to explore your dramatic side?) So there I was, elbowing my way through the crowd, sweating onto all the textiles and beading and tinwork and Guatemalan bags when I found myself face to face with this woman:

Maybe looking a little more mature, sure, but definitely her. I know because her name badge said, "Ali McGraw." Had she not been wearing a name badge, I would have thought, Gee, that woman looks familiar. Wonder if we worked at the university together? That's what I do now--I think everyone I see looks like they fit into some time frame from my life, and I get all caught up in figuring out how I know them. When that doesn't work--as it usually doesn't, since I've never met these folks before in my life--I just figure we all worked at the university together. It's a system that works, giving me satisfaction while reducing the stress of actually having to use my brain, so don't go judging on me. Fortunately, she had on the name badge, which diverted me from having to use any unnecessary mental energy on a hot day.

So there we were, Ali and me, looking at each other for a fragment of a second and coming close to something really meaningful. Instead, she simply shifted her glance beyond me and began talking to her assistant, with whom she does have a meaningful relationship, I'm sure.

Still, it was good for me.

If there's anyone out there still reading this blog, please do share your close-up celebrity experiences. I know you have one. If you don't, make one up; hey, I just did (ha ha, just kidding!!) Seriously, spill it. I'm ready.