Really? No, can’t be. But it is.

Labor Day. A nice three-day weekend. A day off that signifies the end of summer.

WHY GOD WHY!?!?!?!?!?

I know I can’t regulate the passage of time, (cuz if I could I’d have a lot fewer birthdays I’ll tell you that much…) but COME ON! How did the summer slip away so fast?

Here we are again. September.

Heck, the frappin’ New Mexico State Fair (Oh, excuse me, Expo New Mexico) is just around the corner…like…starting on Friday.

The days are noticeably shortening.

Before you know it, Halloween will arrive with the chill it brings in the evening breeze. (the stores already have Halloween candy on the shelves!)

Pretty soon it will be five freaking thirty in the evening and pitch black outside…while I toil away at work.

Then the time changes.

Gah!

The Good Man spent some time last night explaining to me, again, how September and October are the *best* months in the Bay Area and I should be happy for Indian Summer. I am not.

I need sunlight! I’m a wilting flower in the hazy, cloudy skies!

(she says, whimperingly, while it’s planned to be 90 degrees here today…)

*sigh*

Seasons change. People change.

Basically, if I could go back to the week of my honeymoon in the heart of summer, sitting under an umbrella by the beach, happy hour at sunset…THAT would be great.

Instead I stare mournfully out my window…at work.

Maybe this is less about the seasons on the calendar and more about the seasons of my life, eh?

Tangents

Been thinking a lot about a discussion going on in the comments of another blog I read regularly.

One very astute reader there made a comment that a choice I had made was “…so very different than the common priority system a couple of generations ago it boggles my mind.”

That comment has stuck with me for a variety of reasons.

Been thinking a lot lately about my parents and their values versus my own values as their youngest child.

Both of my parents were alive during the Depression and remember it well. Especially my dad. A lot of how he faced his life, his finances and ultimately, his demise a few years ago, was shaped by those memories.

My mom had me at age thirty-five, which by today’s standards is normal, but by the standards in the sixties, was positively ancient. She was advised by doctors I would come out all wrong, touched in the head, or worse.

Ultimately I came out all right, mostly, and grew up with parents SO much older than the parents of my friends. My different (yes, old fashioned) way of thinking made me a bit of an odd ball among these kids with hip young moms divorced from their cool as heck dads.

My stodgy parents were employed at Sandia Labs, married for 46 years and devoted to working hard and raising their kids.

This has come to me in bias relief lately because The Good Man is one year and one month younger than me. His folks met and married VERY young, and are a generation apart from my own parents. My mom has more in common with The Good Man’s grandparents, for heaven’s sakes!

I am what is commonly referred to as an “oops” baby. My brother is seven years older than me. My sister is four years older. My folks thought they were done, but I was a force not to be stopped by aging ovaries and good intentions.

To say that my father was a staunch Republican is to say that Cher is just a tad flamboyant.

He leaned to far to the right it’s a wonder he didn’t flop over when he walked. He advocated clean cars, walls painted white in any home, and one must always save for one’s retirement.

It’s hard to grow up in that atmosphere and not reflect some of the constant theme. From the time I could vote, I was too scared to vote anything other than Republican, fearing my dad would find out.

The first time I *did* vote for a Democrat, it felt like mutiny. Like I was being deliciously deceitful. I grinned when I pulled the lever.

Then came a major act of mutiny. I moved away from New Mexico. I did it, mostly, because I wanted to know what my life could be like if I got to create my own way. I’d followed in the footsteps of my parents, both knowingly and sometimes without intending to.

Moving to California was, for me, such a break out act of defiance that I almost thought my folks would disown me. They certainly didn’t understand it. But ultimately, they accepted it.

And much like growing up in a Republican home, it was hard to live in this atmosphere and not begin to reflect the prevailing attitudes around me.

I think age, living on the coast and the evolution of American politics has made me rather liberal on some issues. I remain quite conservative on others.

California gets a rap for being hola-granola and long-haired liberals. You’d be surprised at how conservative it actually can be.

I guess this is a long way around the barn to say that I know that in commenting to me my values are so diverse from a couple generations ago wasn’t necessarily meant as a compliment…but for me and my personal experience…I’ll take it as such.

I’ve worked hard to have differing priorities. To greater and lesser success.

So anyhow, thanks.

Next on the list of things California will never do.

You go New Mexico!

Tax Free Weekend coming up.

From Friday Aug. 1 through Sunday, Aug. 3, no taxes on what you buy. Zero. Zip. Nada. (there is a link in the article for exact items that are tax free…not everything is)

Nice.

Saving 6.75% is worth it. Get out there and stimulate the economy!

Me, this weekend, I’ll still be paying California’s exorbitant 8.25%.

Our state economy is so jacked up, we can’t afford to take that kind of hit. If we had a tax free day, folks would FREAK out. Ah well.

Go Oh Fair New Mexico for figuring it out.

Source: ABQJournal.

Watery eyes, sweating and that "whooooo" sound in…

3….2…..1…..

“Adam Lagesse, 25, a produce manager for H.E.B., a supermarket chain out of Austin, Texas, bites into a green chile pod Wednesday as he and other Texas grocers toured a field in Salem, N.M., north of Hatch. They were learning how the green chile industry operates so they can better market the vegetable grown in New Mexico to their consumers.”

From the Las Cruces Sun News.

Schadenfreude

–noun
satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else’s misfortune.

Yup. American society, in general, seems to love them some schadenfreude.

Some coffee fans get grim delight in Starbucks woes

Really? Why?

I mean, if you say to me, “Well, I don’t really care for Starbucks coffee because it’s too strong/weak/bitter/strange for me”, then great. No one says you gotta like everything.

But if you say “feh! F–k ’em because they became so successful”…well that’s just mean. And elitist.

So while the coffee snoots are busy scribbling bad poetry in their local coffee shop, feeling superior that Starbucks seems to be faltering, they seem to forget it was the coffee snoots themselves who made Starbucks what they are.

Starbucks used to be the low-down cool thing. It used to quietly be the “in” thing, where the coffee snoots went for a cuppa and conversation. Starbucks was filling an unfilled need. Or they created a need.

That is capitalism at it’s finest!

So suddenly they go from being good to being dirt because they are worldwide? And making money? So neener neener now that you’ve come upon hard times?

As a Starbucks stockholder, I see this retrenching as a good thing, actually, for the long term health of the company.

It blows that people will be out of work and stores will pull out of neighborhoods, but I honestly believe “getting back to core competencies” is the right thing to do in this down economy.

Ah, that’s just me being rational again. I hate it when I get like that…

(note to my favorite New Mexico Barista: Hang in there friend!)