“The New Mexico State men’s basketball team will play Michigan State on Friday in the first round of the NCAA Tournament.”
Oh yeah, baybee!
Source: Las Cruces Sun News
Oh…yeah. Well. The Lobos made it in too. Congratulations…I guess.
Nah, nah, just kidding. It’s a good day to be a New Mexico native! Both major schools made it to the dance!
You know, where I come from, folks don’t necessarily have the best opinion of California.
“Land of fruits and nuts,” the old saying goes.
California does tend to come off weird, aberrant, plastic surgeried and just plain wacky to the middle of the country.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, I can manage to fight off those accusations.
“I live in Northern California, it’s different,” I say.
Or, “you only know what you see on TV. That’s not real.”
Or, “I wouldn’t have lived here so long if it was really like that.”
And then every once in a while, this crazy state does something even I, a long time apologist, can’t manage to explain.
No, I’m not talking about the Guvernator, but yes, that’s one example I can’t rightly explain.
Today, the one that’s got me scratching my head is this recent bit of legislation:
A little thing called “Cuss-Free Week”.
What the &*$#!?!?!
No cussing?
This is California for &*$#’s sakes!
No cussing?
Ok, so the idea was brought on by a fourteen year old kid who I’m sure has the best of intentions.
And yes, it’s probably a good idea to clean up the ol’ language.
But for the love of %$#@, this is California. You know, the state where people like to bring wacky lawsuits?
Ten will get you twenty, SOMEONE is going to allege a first amendment rights violation. This thing will get hung up in court for YEARS costing the taxpayers of an already on the verge-of-bankrupt state millions of dollars to adjudicate the situation.
I might remind you that the whole “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance kerfuffle began in, you guessed it, California.
Our residents seem to know how to tie things up in the courts.
Well %&@$.
P.S. As an aside, a friend of mine brought up the question of: does the curse ban only apply to English colloquialisms? Because she is fluent in another language. I find this to be a very good pinche point. Yeah, cabrons?
P.P.S. To my Spanish speaking readers…I Googled “pinche” to see if any of the letters needed accenting. I was amused to find that one user on Urban Dictionary seems to think pinche means : all the guys who work in the kitchen at a restaurant. If I had been drinking coffee, I would have spewed it all over my screen.
Found in my internet wanderings, a selection of letters from grade school aged kids expressing their anxiety, grief, and eventual acceptance of the fact that Pluto is no longer classified as a planet. They have been compiled together as part of a new book, The Pluto Files.
The kids are rather adamant and articulate about the whole Pluto situation.
And they go through the seven stages of grief:
Shock and Denial – Will says, “You are missing planet Pluto. Please make a model of it.” Then follows up with an illustration in case the scientists don’t remember what it looks like.
Bargaining – John took a poll of eleven people, all of whom thought Pluto is a planet. “I had a half day off from school yesterday so my mom brought me to the Museum of Natural History and the Hayden Planetarium. I wanted to see you so I could tell you this in person.”
Guilt – Madeline works the guilt aspect well….”What do you call Pluto if its not a planet anymore? If you make it a planet again all the science books will be right…Some people like Pluto.”
Anger – Emerson says, “I do not like your answer!!! Pluto is my favorite planet!!! You are going to have to take all of the books away and change them.”
Depression – Taylor is starting to feel the loss. “We’re sorry about giving you mean letters saying we love Pluto but not you.”
Acceptance – Finally, Siddiq brings it all together. “I know how you feel…we just have to get over it – that’s science.”
See images of the letters here.
By the by, our Fair New Mexico has already passed legislation recognizing Pluto’s full planet status. Where I come from, we do “do” lesser galactic structures. Planet or nuthin’ baybee! Mr. Clyde Tombaugh, a kind gentle man (yes, I once met him) would be pleased.
Sometimes in this crazy mixed up life, you find a friend that becomes such a good friend, they actually become family. And that is a beautiful gift, truly.
And then sometimes you have a blood relative who, over time, becomes one of your very best friends.
I’m referring to a cousin on my mom’s side of the family. We met when I was seven and I think he was ten. We were simpatico from the start, sharing a similar outlook on the world.
Back then without the benefit of the internet, we were steadfast pen pals, writing pages and pages to each other about our thoughts, our dreams and of course our drama.
Over time, we graduated to email. Buckets and buckets of bits flying back and forth over the internet, keeping us connected, providing laughs, and that invaluable sort of knowledge that someone out there in the world understands.
He was there at my wedding. A year later, I was there when he staged the musical he’d written (both book and music) and produced.
We’d both helped each other get to our own day of celebration, and it was unthinkable to not be there for the other.
Anyhow, it’s a very cool friendship. Over the weekend, we got to spend some time as my cousin is paying a visit to the Bay Area.
We took off on Friday headed for the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
My mom was raised in Oregon, so once a year or so, she’d take us to visit family in Oregon, and that always included a trip to the Oregon coast.
My cousin and I bonded over years of trips to the beach, so going to the aquarium seemed utterly natural.
One of my favorite exhibits at the aquarium is the otters. I adore the otters and could stand at their tank for *hours*.
What I love is that around my cousin I can be totally ridiculous and immature. In fact, I can even revert to childhood.
So as we stood there watching an otter zip around the tank, every time the rambunctious otter swam right in front of the glass, just inches away from me, I’d utter a childlike “hi!”
Round and round. “Hi!” and “hi!”
And my cousin laughed every time.
I didn’t even feel self-conscious.
Then we got to the huge tank in the Outer Bay exhibit. When I dropped to the floor on my knees (like all the other little kids) to watch the show, he plunked down next to me with a “wooooow” (it really is a spectacular sight).
We giggled at seahorses, we petted bat rays in the touching tank (the bat rays loved my cousin), and we wooowed at the giant jellies.
Man it was a great day!
Ah to be a kid again. There are only a few people in the world who can make that feel safe for me (The Good Man is one of them).
And that just might be the meaning of life.
(loved the seahorses!)
Oh man, I can’t *believe* I forgot to blog about this… I think I Tweeted, but 140 characters does this no justice.
So picture it if you will. Las Vegas Boulevard just a week or so ago.
I’m over at the Mirage because I was hungry and wanted the fare offered at the Carnegie Deli***.
I swear, I am a New York Jewish girl, because I gotta have their chopped liver salad. Just *gotta* have it!
So after finishing my meal and losing a few bucks to the slots, I decided to walk.
I always have to take some time to walk Vegas Blvd to see how it has changed. Plus, you get a whooole different view of The Strip at street level.
There I am walking north on the strip headed toward Fashion Show Mall with a destination of the Trump Hotel nestled in behind the mall, when I see a little alcove-like thing in the wall around the Mirage.
People are lined up there and I figure, well, it’s some Vegas thing, a mostly naked show girl, an “amazing double” dressed up as Michael Jackson (only I just saw him a couple hours ago back at the Bellagio) or a Three Card Monte game, who knows.
I was not prepared for what I saw.
Not. Prepared.
I come around the bend and see this lush green inset in the wall with a railing.
Ok, you know when you go to a cathedral or a really large Catholic church and they have the Virgin Mary Grotto? With the statue and the railing and the somber tones?
Yeah. It was like that.
Only the statue people were worshiping was this (click for full size):
If the imagery isn’t immediately clear to you, that’s a golden rendition of Sigfried and Roy and a white tiger, festooned with fakey shards of crystals shooting out of the cement moorings.
Oh man, everyone was snapping photos like the red carpet. They’d put the kids in front of this thing, or the lady would get in front and the guy would take the photo then the guy would get up there and the lady would snap away, and then the whole family would crowd in there.
People were beside themselves to get photos with this statue.
In a non-ironic way.
Well, I found a break in the crowd and grabbed a couple iPhone photos so I could show The Good Man and we could look at this later and ponder just WTF.
I have no answers.
Other than that’s Vegas, I suppose…
***Not intentionally, but we ended up having an “old home” week in Las Vegas. We went to Garduños to fulfill longing for the food of my youth, then later I took The Good Man, a Brooklyn boy, back to the Carnegie for a monster Reuben (corned beef, if you please).