Category: peculiar

Well I’ll Be Darned

Over the many years of our association, The Good Man and I have run into quite a few “well I’ll be darned” moments. New York boy and New Mexico girl are sometimes worlds apart in our life experiences.

The latest came around when we moved into our new apartment home. I’ve lived in huge apartment complexes, six unit buildings, and the last place I lived was a duplex.

And at each of those places, they way you got rid of your trash was to schlep it downstairs to the big metal trash bins in the parking lot.

But our new place has a curiosity….a trash chute! This blows my tiny little mind. I’ve never even seen one much less lived somewhere with one.

This is the coolest thing EVER.



So beautifully unobtrusive





Ok, that hole is a little scary, but rather effective


It’s a pretty, shiny bit of steel. Open the convenient door, drop in my trash, close the door, dust off my hands and whistle a happy tune.

It’s just down the hall and around a corner from my place. I can even slip out there in the morning in my nightgown and bare feet. Fabulous!

The other day, The Good Man put some boxes down the chute and said he was pretty sure they were stuck. I suggested he send a bowling ball down after it. He wasn’t amused.

See, he’s used to the Super getting really mad when the trash chute gets blocked. Me, I don’t know from a Super or a trash chute, so I have the luxury of just being a wise ass.

So The Good Man is all “yeah, whatever” and I’m all “whooooooo!” about this feature of our home.
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Next time, on Intercontinental relations, we’ll discuss “Why are the traffic lights in New Mexico horizontal, that’s just weird” (him) counterbalanced against “Why doesn’t California use mile markers? No wonder you people drive like crap.” (me)



They Call It Stormy Monday*

Tuesday’s just as bad.

Wednesday’s worse.

And Thursday’s also sad.


Photos from the parking lot at my apartments this morning, after a very rainy night. These muddy waters are silt washing down from the building just above us on the hill. The dirt is washing out and down a wall and down our drain.

This worries me.

And yet…it’s kind of pretty.



From the earth to the sewer



It’s like my own little Milky Way



The building’s not falling down the hill tomorrow. Or next week. But slowly and surely, the land is washing away.

Many years in the Bay Area and this still baffles me.




Photos Copyright 2012, Karen Fayeth and subject to the Creative Commons in the right column of this page. Photos taken with an iPhone4s and the Camera+ app.


*Post inspired by a rainy day and the bluesman named Muddy Waters.



Noise Pollution & Tasty Morsels

So there I am, Saturday morning, sleeping in a quiet bed in a quiet room at an undisclosed location somewhere near Radium Springs.

It’s the first real quiet I’ve enjoyed in six months. That was the last time I visited Southern New Mexico.

And then, literally cutting through the early morning hours comes, this:



That’s a lot of saw blades!

It’s tree trimming time at the pecan farm next door to my best friend’s place.

A piece of heavy farm equipment with six whirring saw blades cutting through hearty pecan wood sounds, well….just about as awful as you’d expect. Every once in a while they’d hit an especially green branch and the sound was the stuff of nightmares.

After the saw passed by, the trees looked like a line of military recruits with brand new flattops.



Evidently pecan trees will immediately put out new growth in the areas where they have been cut. Futher, pecan nuts flourish on new growth, so pecan farmers cut back the trees to boost production.

I gotta say, back in my formative years, I don’t remember pecan farmers cutting back trees so much. But then again, we didn’t have the robust demand for pecans from Asian markets that we see today.

From a 2011 WSJ article: “Five years ago, China bought hardly any pecans. In 2009, China bought one-quarter of the U.S. crop, and there’s no sign demand is abating.”

So farmers will do just about anything to boost production.
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Hey, did you know that pecan trees are notorious water hogs? And right now, the drought in New Mexico is palpable.

Oh, but that’s a different story for another day.



Photos Copyright 2012, Karen Fayeth and subject to the Creative Commons license in the far right column of this page. Top photo taken with my Canon Rebel, bottom photo taken with my iPhone4s and the Camera+ app.


The Withdrawals, man. I got the itchies!

So the good man and I lived quite a long time in our old apartment. The place was built in the 40’s and had a lot of quirks. Since it was an older house in an older neighborhood, we tolerated a lot of the less than optimal things, but was a fun place to live.

For example, we got pretty cruddy DSL service there. When I signed up for the service back in the early 2000’s, they woo’d me in with promises of 3mbps download speed and 1mbps upload.

Not bad, really.

Well, in reality, we got a lot closer to 1.5 down and .5 up. Pretty crappy.

So I called AT&T to complain. Often.

At the end of every year I’d call up again, crankier than the previous year. They would tell me that my speeds were “within normal range”. I’d say “but you sold me on 3!!” Then they’d tell me that my neighborhood wasn’t wired for any of the other faster services they offer, and “oh so sorry about that.”

Then I’d threaten to cancel my service.

So the call agent would send me to the Retention Department who would cluck and coo over my bad experience, then reduce my monthly rate. I’d gotten it down to about $20 a month for my meager 1.5 download speeds.

It was a breakeven. Not much money. Not very fast. So ok.

This month, we moved into a new place. I called them sonsabitches at AT&T and told them I was moving my service, and they weren’t going to raise my rates.

They told me “oooh….yyyeaaaah….um….your new building isn’t wired for AT&T. We don’t actually offer any service there at all. Sorry.”

Well ok. So I started looking at options.

Turns out lo these many years ago, the building owners used to provide basic Comcast cable to all tenants. But Comcast kept trying to bump up the price, so finally the owners said “go away” and the tenants had to pay for their own service, either Comcast or DishTV.

What that means is, the building was wired only for Comcast and AT&T phone lines. No one else. And no ATT DSL.

Which means….

I’m stuck with $#%^*&%^%ing Comcast.

A little history: It was with sheer, unadulterated *glee* that I canceled my last Comcast service back in 2009.

Now they are my only choice. And I am peeved.

So peeved, that for the past week, The Good Man and I have had NO INTERNET in our little home.

None. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

Well, ok, we both have iPhones and get enought done using our 3G coverage. But basically….we’ve been living internet free for a week.

At first it was kind of nice.

And then it was extraordinarily painful.

And then it was nice again.

Now I just don’t know.

I have two loaner MiFi devices coming from two different cell phone carriers. I’m going to see if 4G mobile coverage will get us there. I’m not optimistic. My last evaluation of MiFi service wasn’t positive (great with one device on it, but slows miserably as each new device hops on).

And I am really not a fan of DishTV.

So here I am. Back at Comcast.

How possibly can I live in the middle of a very bustling neighborhood in the very *heart* of the most technologically interesting place in the world, and I can’t get simple, stupid freaking DSL service!?!?!

As an aside, I have to laugh at how reliant I’ve become on having my WiFi internet at the ready. Maybe I need to detox from it. Maybe it’s time to step back.

But then I want to write a blog post about how much I’ve broken my tether to the internet and I can’t because I have no WiFi.

I cried because I had no internet, until I met a man who had no iPhone.





Score One for Immaturity

My employer inhabits a lot of super large office buildings and I have to say, all in, it’s a pretty nice space.

I’m often impressed at the investment made in actual artwork. It’s not that usual drab office decor, but actual artwork. Paintings, sculptures, mixed media stuff. Really wonderful and thought provoking works.

I consider myself something of an artist, so I like to stop and take a look, really look, at these wonderful additions to my work life.

Not long after I started, I had occasion to be up on one of the high numbered floors of my building. There is a super duper large conference room up there, and it’s perfect for big negotiation meetings.

On that floor, in the open area where you wait for our notoriously slow elevators, there is a particularly large painting.

So one day, I was feeling the euphoria I get after pulling off a huge meeting. I hummed a happy tune while waiting and waiting for an elevator car.

My eyes naturally went to the painting. It’s not my favorite style, but I looked at it really close to understand what the painter was trying to say to me.

Here, I’ll let it speak to you too:



Well, so, I kept looking at the thing. My eyes were irresistibly drawn to the middle of the canvas.

You know…this part.



That inner voice of mine, the one that gets me in trouble, started giggling like a Jolt cola infused Beavis and Butthead.

“Dude,” the inner voice said, “That looks like a uniboob.”

For my male readers who may not understand….a uniboob is what we ladies call the effect that happens with some of the “shelf” tank tops and some bathing suit tops. It’s where the boobs are sort of smushed together and, well, it looks like you have one big boob.

Generally, we ladies like a little separation to the assets.

But c’mon now, am I wrong? That’s a uniboob, right?

So I snickered. And giggled. And guffawed.

Dude, there’s a nipple painting at my job! *snork, chortle*

I mean, look at this thing! That’s totally a nipple!



I let the giggling go on a while, but then that OTHER inner voice, the one that’s all responsible and mature and stuff admonished me. “Would they *really* hang a nipple painting at this large, important and serious company? I think not. Grow up!”

Inner Beavis and Butthead just kept hooting and hollering.

So then responsible voice said “let’s look at the tag and see if the title of the work tells us something more.”

I looked. It tells us a lot.

The painting is called “Mother”.

Yup.

There’s a big mommy uniboob painting prominently displayed on one of the executive floors of my place of employment. *giggle, snort*

That there’s your art appreciation break for the day.

You’re welcome.