Category: life

East bound and down…

…loaded up and truckin’

Yes, I just quoted the theme from “Smokey and the Bandit” and I’m not sorry.

Ok, maybe a little sorry. But I’d do it again.

I’m in kind-of-panicked but mostly excited mode because I have some travel coming up next week.

In the many long years I’ve worked at The Company, I’ve only traveled a scant three times. This will be my fourth trip on the company dime.

I get to go to Northern Florida. For a conference.

There’s not a lot going on in the Northern half of Florida. But that’s ok. I got that “anywhere but here” thing going. I haven’t traveled in a REALLY long time and I’m anxious to get going. I do love to go places.

There are some downsides.

1) It’s Florida. And still Spring Break season. I may have to pimp slap some drunk college kids. I’ll do it too.

2) I’m not going for fun. I’m going to work. True, a conference isn’t exactly *work*, but it involves sitting indoors, eating conference chicken and being over air conditioned to within an inch of my life.

3) It is one long ass plane ride to get from the left coast to the right one. Yeah, shaddup all you “oh, but to fly to Australia is WAY longer” or whatever. I’m just saying… Mama gets restless on a plane. Five hours plus three time zones is just long enough to piss me off, not long enough to get anywhere really good…like London or something.

4) Disney. God I hate Disney. And there is little else to do BUT freakin’ Disney where I’m going. Gaaaaah! I Googled “fun non-Disney things to do” and found…well, not much.

Oh well. It’s a trip. That I’m not paying for. It will be warm. I won’t have to sit at my desk. And the Atlantic is warm.

So there you have it.

I keep thinking “oh, I should pack goggles” then remind myself “WORK! This is work!”

I am taking the camera tho…I’ll share any interesting shots. (nod to Avelino on this)

Minutiae

I happen to be one of those kinda folks that often pays attention to minutiae in my daily life. I find it both exciting and aggravating that I’m like that.

But it’s never boring.

Take for example, this weekend. I wrote letters to my two godkids then walked over to the blue post box near my place to mail them.

As I walked, I pondered how utterly cool it is that I can write some words on a piece of paper, seal it shut, put a sticker on the front, and through the power of humans and machines in about two to three days it will make it all the way to Las Cruces, New Mexico. To my friend’s house on the outskirts of town. My words will travel 1200 miles and a human will put them into a metal box on a rural road.

Wow!

Ok, I realize the US Mail has been around for a long time and it was probably, like a gazillion times more amazing back in the days when some guy rode a horse for DAYS to get a letter to someone in a remote location…like, er, Las Cruces. But still, the fact that it usually just works so effortlessly is really, really cool.

Even cooler, I recently got a package from a friend in London. How far out is that? I mean, I got a package from someone in a time zone eight hours ahead of mine. When I go to work he’s going home for the day. And he sent me a book, and it came halfway around the globe (ok, not *quite* that far, don’t go getting all literal on me while I’m blowing my own mind). Sure, that was UPS that made it so, but still.

Wow!

I know the interwebs make communication more instant, but there is still something really cool about a written letter or a package from a friend.

It’s been great to watch my two godkids grow up and come into their own. Through their written letters I learn a lot about their personalities, the people they are becoming. I could get that talking to them on the phone, but it’s fascinating what they choose to write about.

Makes me proud. And I love writing them back, too.

Thanks to the simple magic of the USPS, my relationship with my godkids grows by each postmarked letter, line by line.

Hey Mr. Postman? Thanks for that!

*coff coff*

You know just the other day while riding the CalTrain, I saw a nice, handsome man giving me “the look”. You know the look. The “I’m checking you out” look. I sat up a little straighter. Blushed appreciatively. Until I realized he was checking out the twenty-something year old blond sitting next to me.

And I thought, “What’s she got that I ain’t got?” Well. Perkier boobs for one, because mine were already in high school before blondie was born.

Oy. And so I gave myself the usual litany of “you are only as old as you feel” and “youth is wasted on the young” and “age is a state of mind”.

It’s true, I don’t actually *feel* any older than the child with the supple, elastic skin seated next to me. In fact, at this age, I feel SO much better about myself. Stronger. More self-aware. About eight million times more confident.

So feeling better about myself I bounced from the train and into my day, deciding that pimply boy wasn’t all that interesting anyway. I’m young. I’m hip. I have an iPhone.

I just got my hair colored again, covering the grays and putting an even deeper tone of red in there. I have a job and an engagement ring. I’m happenin’, man.

Then I read the entertainment section of my local paper and stumbled across this article and felt all the gray hairs sproing up on my head.

Prince is having hip replacement surgery.

That little red Corvette will need to be an automatic cuz my boy can’t work the clutch anymore. Darling Nikki uses Oil of Olay. Purple rain the color of a Prilosec tab.

It happens to the best of us, I suppose.

This on the heels of hearing that the timeless and ageless Omar Vizquel needs knee surgery.

*wheeze*

Time, that unforgiving b*tch, marches on.

Memories

I am quite thoughtful today. It is an anniversary of sorts, but not the happy kind.

It was three years ago today that my dad passed away in Albuquerque. In some ways it was like yesterday, how fresh the hurt is. But in other ways it seems like a million years ago.

It wasn’t a surprise when he died. It was expected. He’d been sick and we knew it was inevitable. It was, actually, in many ways a relief when it did finally occur.

Losing a parent is, in my opinion, among the hardest things an adult must deal with.

I didn’t have much of a relationship with my dad, but he was my dad, after all. He was cranky, cantankerous, Type A, driven, rigid, incredibly intelligent, hardworking, a loyal friend to his friends, never lazy, handy, proud, insecure, funny, a thinker, and unstoppable.

In other words, an imperfect human.

For me, the things that needed to be said were said before he moved on. I don’t have any open issues there, and I count myself lucky in that regard.

So today, I feel a bit of sadness, a bit of thoughtfulness, and the drive to keep moving ever forward.

The only constant is change

I’m way too late to this party, but that’s ok. Here’s the old news:

The venerable Albuquerque Tribune published its last edition on Saturday, February 23.

Albuquerque’s afternoon paper had been around 86 years. Quite a run, actually.

I always liked the Trib, their comics were way better, at least back in the day. Plus, when I was home after school, but before my folks got home, I could dash out, read the comics, fold it back up right and all was good. I always got the morning Journal after it has been thoroughly read and smudged by both parents and siblings. Kind of a weird memory, I admit.

I found the writing style and layout of the Trib more accessible then the ABQJournal. I admit it was often the “light” news source, but it was my preference.

We may see it again in a different incarnation, but for now, it’s a story that goes quiet.

Goodbye, old friend. Sad to see you go the way of many other dailies that couldn’t make it work in this Internet era.

*sigh*