Category: New Mexico

It tortures me.

Ever read a book that tortures you, draws you to it until you are forced to read it every moment you get, and you are thinking about it every moment you aren’t reading it?

I haven’t had a book haunt me in a long time. But I’ve got one going now.

The Flamenco Academy by Sarah Bird.

Picked it up at the library in the new fiction section. In fact I didn’t even find it, my partner did. He handed it to me saying, “it’s set in Albuquerque”. I read the cover blurb and thought, “ok, I’ll give it a try”.

Little did I know….

It HAUNTS me!

Maybe it’s supposed to? Maybe that is the heart of Flamenco? To haunt those who enjoy the art? Maybe it’s all one big metaphor I’m either not smart enough or not drunk enough to understand?

I’ve learned a lot about Flamenco from these pages. I admit, I knew very little going in. Heck, I didn’t even know there is a Flamenco academy at UNM. Who knew? Lots of people, evidently.

The fact that the story is so painfully wrought, touches a *little* close to home with some of the emotional issues AND is set in Albuquerque? Oy. Torture.

About three chapters in I slammed it down and told my partner, “I can’t read this” and got snotty about it.

Then I picked it back up and kept going. I’ve been going to sleep too late every night with the “just one more chapter” philosophy that *never* works. One more turns into one more that turns into one more.

There is this negative review of the book on Amazon. The reviewer says “If you have any intellect this book will drive you crazy.” Well, I have some intellect and it does drive me crazy…but not in the way the reviewer meant. Just…crazy.

I can’t say I *love* it, I can repeat that I’m tortured by it. I remarked this evening that I can hardly wait until I’m finished with it so the torture can end.

For now, I’m about three quarters done and this book OWNS me.
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Update: I finished. The ending left me….unfinished.

Belated Feliz Cinco de Mayo!!

Woot! Would have posted on “the day” but was out of town enjoying an amazing time away with that wonderful man who takes such good care of me. A much needed break from the hectic world.

In our luck, while traveling around Napa, we caught a fun Cinco de Mayo parade. I’ve not really celebrated Cinco since I left New Mexico for a variety of reasons but this parade was reason enough to celebrate…and gave me a deep pang of homesickness…which can be delicious.

Enjoy!

Read the sign on the little girl’s bike…

(All photographs by and the property of Karen Fayeth)

To reunite…or not.

I’m thinking not.

This summer, I’ve been notified, is the twenty-year reunion of my high school. Oh sob.

I declined to attend the ten year. I hated high school. Oh, the school itself was fine, but that time of my life was….not great.

I didn’t have many friends in high school. I was well liked by all accounts, but out of a class of 550 graduates, I would venture I only knew a few.

And I only had two real close friends that I ran around with.

The closer of the two, an amazing girl full of life and vibrancy and a laugh that would light up the stars…she would be the only reason I’d even want to go. To sit with her and issue the snark and self-deprecating humor and assure ourselves that we are cool despite all evidence to the contrary.

Sadly that beautiful sense of humorous snark was extinguished by cancer in 2005. It hardly seems the same without her.

The other is a lovely woman who has married and has three children. She is a stay at home mom and has become quite religious. I’m happy for her, she is happy with her life. It’s just that…she and I no longer have anything in common.

The rehashed conversation about how I remain jealous that SHE got to date the star football player AND wear his letterman’s jacket while I never not once dated in high school will only last for a few minutes.

Then we’re left with…silence.

I looked at the list of other folks who are attending and I sort of know a few but nothing there is compelling me to get on a plane and spend three days with a wan smile on my face trying to pretend like 1) this is fun and 2) this used to be fun.

The gang is meeting up Friday night at Billy’s Long Bar. An Albuquerque institution, indeed. There are probably bits of my DNA in the thrashed bar and the barf stained carpet. But that was a lifetime ago. That was a different me. And I’m disinclined to revisit that person I once was. I’ve come a long way, baby.

So despite the fact that I “should” or “it would be fun” I think I’m going to pass on the reunion again this year.

What I can’t seem to get over is…why do I feel guilty about that?

Oh the life of a recovering Catholic…….

It’s just….so wrong…..

Got to reading an article in the Albquerque Tribune today titled, “Even presidential candidates have their dream jobs”.

It’s an insightful bit about the current roster of candidates and their answers to some AP questions. Sort of a “get to know you better”.

But that’s not the problem.

The problem is that…as is well documented, our Governor, one Mr. Bill Richardson wanted to be a baseball player as a youth. This we know. And to illustrate that, the paper includes a file photo from 2003 of the Guv tossing out a first pitch at an Isotopes game. And when you click the photo it gets large. Real large. Large enough to see more detail than you need….

Click at your own risk: Be Disturbed

I have seen the furry belly of our Governor. I might never be the same……

It also bugs me that Hillary couldn’t give a succinct answer and that Colorado Rep. Tom Tancredo smarmed it up and said President. But that’s another post for another day…..

Does my Heart Good

It does my heart good to know that wild horses still exist in New Mexico. It says that despite all the encroachment of civilization, wild horses still run free, and that speaks to both my heart and deep places in my soul. True, the numbers are greatly diminished and the day will come when they aren’t there any more, but as of today, they still run wild.

Read in the ABQjournal today about an adoption put on by the Forest Services from Carson National Forest. Sadly I live in an overcrowded-overpopulated-overgrowth area where a postage stamp of land costs millions. If I did have the land, I’d gladly pay the $125 per head to let a few continue to run wild on my dime. I wouldn’t even try to saddle break them or make a mustang conform to my way of thinking. I’d just let ’em blast out the back of the trailer and then take great joy in watching them run, heads tossed in the wind, mane all covered in brambles, but free as the day the pony was born.

I’d like to give a tip of the hat to the Wild Horse Observers Association of New Mexico who are working to protect these wild animals and keep them running free in New Mexico. They also look to limit the roundups and sales that greatly cut down the herds.

I know my view might be a bit controversial, but that’s where I stand. Over Christmastime I had occasion to be in Laughlin, Nevada and saw a few of the wild burros that run around that area. It made me smile. I considered it my Christmas present from the universe.

I guess being a child of the West, it makes me happy on a deep cellular level to know that wild things still run free, and no matter how much I have to conform to my boss, my job, my society’s expectations, I can still imagine the rapid beating heart of a wild pony as he races across the high desert, ears twitching, nose snorting and tail flying.

Today as I sit in my gray cubicled world, that sounds pretty enticing.