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Karen Fayeth

Unity brought about by food

Upon starting my new job, it was perplexing to me how often they feed us at this place. I mean, I’m not complaining. But seriously, I get at least two meals a week provided, sometimes more.

Good food too, full meals, like chicken and potatoes, cheese tortellini with salad, lavish Mexican buffet, a full course Vietnamese meal, and more.

This was especially peculiar to me, since, at my former employer, I usually ate my lunch by myself at my desk. A friend and I would walk over to the cafeteria, get food, walk back and go our separate ways. Clean. Sterile. Boring.

Now that I’ve been at the new gig 90 days, and having just stuffed myself silly at the potluck to end all potlucks (yum), I realized that this habit of sharing meals together is a bit of brilliance.

Really, how more primal can you get than breaking bread with other people? It creates connections.

Earlier today, I looked around the room at all these people I’ve come to know. Over a plate of homemade food (that’s our pot luck rule, it must be actually homemade), I found an easy camaraderie.

I know that one lady’s young daughter loves red velvet cake, and when she heard another lady at work was making it for our potluck, begged her mom to bring some home.

I know that the lady who sits right next to me was raised in the Philippines, and her homemade lumpia is worth weeping over. (I had three)

I discovered that the guy on the next row who identifies himself as Asian actually has a Mexican mother, who was kind enough to make flan for our potluck. Really, really good flan, too.

The reason for our potluck was to “Share the Love” for Valentine’s Day. As we all ate and complimented each other and asked for recipes, yes, there was love, and connection and a diligence to work together and believe in each other and do our best to get through the obstacles.

All because we got out some paper plates and plastic forks and brought out food that represents a little of ourselves. We’re all taking in a bit of each other and blending into something that much better.

I think that kind of connection is rarely found at work, and has to be part of the reason why this group I work with and for manages to get along so damn well. That’s the kind of “corporate goodwill” you just can’t force.

By the way, the contribution that represented me was a kickin’ bowl of guacamole. I make *really* good guac and today I earned some new fans.

Bet you never knew that guacamole tastes really good on lumpia!

Bringing cultures and oddball coworkers together, one delicious meal at a time…

On this same topic, I am fortunate enough to be able to make a trip to Southern New Mexico this weekend. I’ll be with my best friend of twenty years, and when we settled the date for a visit, one of the first things she said was, “we have to plan the menu”.

Food, for us, is family, is bonding, is life, is earth, is the heart of who we are. Nourishing both body and soul.

I can hardly wait for her homemade rellenos. Right then, I just did a little jump and clicked my heels.

New Mexico, here I come!

Back in my day

You know, back in my day, if a person were to have occasion to be walking down the street, holding an entire conversation with only themselves, we’d call them nutty, cross the street to get away from them and cover our children’s eyes.

These days? No, it’s commonplace. We just figure it’s all normal.

I went downstairs this afternoon to the snack shop in my building for a cup of frozen yogurt. When I walked in the small shop, the oddball guy working there was deep in the middle of a conversation. By himself.

He was speaking, answering, getting a little lively in the discourse.

I naturally assumed he was on the Bluetooth headset for his cell phone.

So I went about the dispensation of some boysenberry no-fat fro-yo. When I went to pay, the young man was still chatting away, waving arms.

He saw me and was like, “oh hi, that will be two dollars.”

He wasn’t on the phone.

Nope. He’s just a good old-fashioned slice of crazy in a brown apron.

Hiding in plain sight.

Questionably sane people can’t even get noticed in this town anymore!

The times, they are a changin’….

Just read in the ABQjournal today that the ancient and well established (though closed for some time now) Ice House strip club in downtown ABQ is getting repurposed.

As a teen oriented arts and entertainment center.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

Thanks, Oh Fair New Mexico, for the mirthful smile this morning.

It is a fine use for that old place, IMHO.

Remember the scandal it caused when the Ice House first opened? Back then we would have never guessed the demise….

New Mexico Deliciousness

Got a great link in email today from a great lady, Jamie Dedes.

Penny Postcards from New Mexico.

It’s an image collection of great old postcards from the great State of New Mexico. I love seeing how places we all know were advertised back in the day.

In fact, I think this one is my favorite.

Doesn’t that look like a fun, convivial place for a weary travel to rest and refresh? Yeah….I know the Bow and Arrow. Over there on Central. I believe they rent by the hour these days?

I like this one too:

Other than the tentative Natives, that’s pretty much how it used to look…I remember strolling around on the tarmac, going out to meet travelers and such.

Wow, good stuff. Makes me homesick as heck!

Enjoy!

(All images belong to USGenWeb Archives Web Site)

Time for some honesty, here.

I believe I’ve arrived at the time of my life where I need to be honest with myself, my fans, and my fellow mankind.

Yes, it’s true, I have used. Used a questionable substance. Used it real good.

In my twenties, I was strong. I eschewed this terrible enhancement. I was totally clean, and felt righteous and strong, though brittle. I was able to use the sheer force of my will to avoid using. A moral victory.

In my thirties, it was harder to get there, harder to be as successful, so with the guidance of a certain suspect doctor, I reintroduced this substance into my world, using as often as possible. In public. I didn’t even try to hide it.

I sometimes even used with my best friend. And my own family.

My sister is a known user. We use together. She has even drawn her children into the circle of usage. Those young’uns love the stuff.

My husband uses too.

I know there is a growing sentiment against this substance, but it helped me. Truly. Got me past the difficult times. Gave me a sense of peace when it seemed the whole world was upside down. Helped me be grounded. Right next to a stack of pancakes.

Maybe I was just young. Naive. Didn’t know better. Listening to bad guidance. Following the crowd. Trying to be one of the team. Just working to be popular.

I did it for the fans.

Yes, I’m a user. I own it. It makes me a better person.

I still use. You people can’t stop me.

That’s how you own it, ARod, you lying sack of ____.