Category: where I come from

Weekend round up!

With photos!

I have a little Sony Cybershot camera (an older version of this one). It’s about five years old and the battery doesn’t hold a charge like it should, but I carry it around in my purse in case photographic opportunities arise. Let me tell you, this little point and shoot has served me well.

I originally bought it to go to Spring Training because it has a zoom feature on it. A little zoom helps get the better shots at something like Spring Training (I now have a 75-300 lens for my big boy camera. Now that’s some zoom!). Over the years I’ve pushed the bounds of what this little silver wonder was made to do, and it’s always stepped up. It does get a little grainy when I zoom all the way out. And doesn’t always zoom as far as I want it to, but that’s ok.

So on Sunday, we had a *gorgeous* Bay Area day, so The Good Man and I met up with some friends in San Francisco’s Marina for some lunch and then a walk in the sun.

We ended up following the path that leads to the Warming Hut at Crissy Field and ends at Fort Point under the Golden Gate Bridge.

As this area is stunningly beautiful, I, of course, brought my trusty little silver friend. Thing is, I’ve already taken a lot of shots in this area, and also, I was feeling like an oddball (which, if you know me, isn’t all that rare) and wanted to take some different shots. Plus, as the youngest of three kids with older siblings who were closer in age, I learned how to entertain my ownself early on.

Herewith, Karen’s self-entertainment for a sunny Sunday:

Here are the four of us taking a break at the Warming Hut. As you know, most people aren’t interested in having their picture taken outright, so this was my sly attempt to capture the group. That’s me on the right. The lazy tired sitting one and we were only about a quarter of the way into our walk…

And while we were there drinking water and coffee, there was another gaggle having their own gathering. “Hey, you got something to eat? A brotha sure is hungry……”

Since they were in shadow, the color is a little off, but you get the idea.

Then we moved along. I pried my heiny off the wall and the walk continued on to Fort Point.

Proof of the truly gorgeous day we had…

And again, like the yahoolio I am, the “grownups” were having conversation and what was I doing? Dorking around with my camera.

Here is a self-portrait. I like it. I think my hair looks cool. Plus, I’m gratified to see that my nose-grooming regimen appears to be working. It seems to be “all clear” up there…

Then after we were kicked out of Fort Point (they were closing for the day) on the walk back we found this handsome guy. He’s a heron and was standing there posing for us like a supermodel. I got a couple shots mainly for my mom who I know is a bird person. Here ya go:

And I then moved slowly to the other side of him and got this one:

The day ended at Liverpool Lil’s with some more good eats and a tasty (and warming) glass of wine.

And more of me goofing around with my camera.

See, the restrooms had this really amazing warm yellow light. And it also had mirrors on opposing walls and I’ve always loved that tunnel effect it makes.

Like, whoa, duuude….

All in, it was a good day. I realize that none of these shots are very illuminating, but they are very me and also remind me of a fun day with good friends. It’s the kind of Sunday we should always have. Easy. Slow. Good eats. Friends.

Ah well, back to the sleep-deprived workday. I do love Daylight Savings but it’s always such an adjustment.

But I was psyched that there was still light at 7:45 last night. Yes!

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Have you ever known a place that, in your memories, takes on a dream quality?

It can be almost any place. I have lots of them.

But one that shows up in my dreams quite often is this really greasy spoon in Las Cruces. A college hangout. Oh did I have some fun times there, and the tasty green chile cheese burgers that still haunt me.

That place is called Dick’s Cafe.

It’s a place with plastic windows covered with a greasy film. It has torn vinyl seats and ugly formica tables. The desert sun pours in through those windows, lighting up the room and the grimy linoleum floor.

And there is a jukebox. Oh that jukebox. I used to ask cute cowboys for their pocket change and they would give it to me. My best friend and I would play our faves. And we smiled, and laughed, and told stories and picked on each other and occasionally picked up on each other. It is genuinely the stuff of my dreams. All the individual memories blended together into one beautiful and happy amalgam.

When visiting Las Cruces, my pulse still quickens driving past Dick’s. Back in the day, we would drive by real slow and survey the pickups parked out front. My best friend and I had a game, how many could we recognize. She was always better than me at that, but if we saw a good one, one belonging to a good friend or a particularly cute boy that needed to be flirted with, we’d turn in to the dirt parking lot and grab a coke and some fries. The days went by slow and easy then.

What’s great is that Dick’s has been around since 1959. My best friend’s parents, my surrogate Mom and Dad, have just as fond memories about Dick’s as we do. THAT is an institution, people!

Why am I waxing rhapsodic about Dick’s today?

Because I just read in the Las Cruces Sun News that they had a fire overnight. Article here.

If the physical place is gone, it can live on in my memories. But it would be a sad day for me to have to say goodbye to the actual place.

Just writing this, remembering the days, makes me smile. Fridays at Dick’s were especially fun.

An urgent email went out to my best friend who still lives in Las Cruces for some on the scene reporting…

Rock Star

You know what I did today?

I met a Rock Star. Ok, not a real rock star, but my own personal rock star.

For me, celebrity is an interesting thing. I don’t really think that much about most Hollywood actors. Having once upon a time dated a musician, the magic is out of that one too.

The one thing I love to do more than anything else is writing, so for me, the real rock stars are writers.

About fifteen years ago (*gasp*, has it been that long?), my best friend gave me a book. A book about writing. About how to get started. About just getting the words down on paper.

It began a journey for me that I’m still on. It was a liberating kick in the pants.

And what was the best, my most favorite thing about that book was that the woman who wrote these powerful words was from New Mexico.

That fact left an indelible mark on my soul.

That book was “Writing Down the Bones” and that author is Natalie Goldberg.

Today she made an appearance at a really cool local bookstore, Kepler’s.

After her talk, which was great, she signed books. She could not have been more gracious. I got a chance to tell her how great it was for this little girl from New Mexico to have a New Mexican show me the way, and she said she understood that.

And I walked away on clouds 8, 9 and 10.

It was really, really cool.

The geek out factor was akin to when I get the autograph of a favorite baseball player.

Writers and baseball players. My own personal Rock Stars.

Tradition

It’s a lovely thing. It’s a way to bind people together (and not in that “I can’t breathe kind of way”), a way to identify each other, a way to mark time.

In my life there are plenty. Cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Posole at New Year’s. Ham at Easter.

Noticing a theme here? My traditions do tend to revolve around food.

Fair enough.

When I was living in Albuquerque and working at Sandia Labs, the Friday tradition was happy hour at Gardunos over by Winrock Mall.

Delicious margaritas, happy hour tasties, and Mariachi as a way to end the week. That can’t be bad.

Today I’m enjoying a Bay Area tradition. Observed by most restaurants in the area and also by the cafeteria where I work.

Clam chowder.

: slurp slurp :

Oh yeah, baby. I know it’s Friday when there is a steaming pot of chow-dah at the Cafeteria. As far as I know, it’s homemade on site. This week’s batch isn’t as tasty as last week, but that’s ok. It’s still all kinds of yum on a cold rainy day.

The engineers will line up in droves, often the only time all week they toddle out of their black hole labs to see the light of day. I get in line with my unwashed brothas to savor the aroma.

Lop off a slice of sourdough, and that’s a little bit of heaven right there on a plastic tray.

So, ya’ll entertain yourselves, I’m enjoying a tradition over heah.

Happy Friday to all.

It’s all good

Ah poor, poor tragically beautiful and misguided Jessica Alba. She’s gone and got herself on the fighting side of my fair New Mexico. Or more specifically, the Duke City.

As reported by Jim Belshaw last week in his ABQJournal opinion piece.

From the article:

“Ms. Alba said: ‘In Albuquerque there’s really only one restaurant that’s pretty good. You can only take Applebee’s and Chili’s so much. Our big day was hanging out at Wal-Mart for five hours. It was like, ‘Yea, Wal-Mart!’ ”’

Ok, fair enough. I embrace the state of my state’s own rasquacheness, however, I found it an odd comment about Albuquerque. I mean, there’s more than THAT to do.

Well, to parrot Paul Harvey, now for the rest of the story…

Seems this young lady was a guest of the New Mexico School for the Blind and Visually Impaired in preparation for her latest movie release, “The Eye“. This was her time in New Mexico to which she was referring.

See, the funny thing is, NMSBVI is located in Alamogordo, not Albuquerque.

Now, I could get my Land of Enchantment up, all in a dander on behalf of BOTH Albuquerque and Alamogordo.

But why? Over the weekend, I talked a lot with my friend about how New Mexico is growing way too fast. Lots of those dang Californians (like me) selling their overvalued houses and buying up less expensive land. And bringing our bad attitude with us.

I figure Ms. Alba did us a favor, right? It’s good PR. Yeah, folks, the state’s largest City has only one, like, good restaurant. And only Wal-Mart for entertainment. That’s right! Who would want to live in a place like *that*, eh? Move along folks, I hear Idaho is fabulous this time of year.

Thanks Jessica! You just keep on being our PR agent. kay?

*Hugs*,

The fine people of New Mexico.

Oh, and here’s some love from Google maps! Enjoy!