Oh Fair New Mexico

Well that can’t be good

What exactly is going on in this country?

Today, more than ever…

…I am convinced that the members of the human race are all nothing more than a truckload of clucking chickens wandering around the big cosmic coop.

Seriously.

Ok, so, backstory:

Over the Labor Day weekend, the people constructing a new eastern span of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge closed the bridge to traffic. During this closure, they removed one section of the lower deck of the bridge, and placed a temporary section in place to divert traffic and allow vital work to be completed.

This made big news all over the Bay Area. It was much ado about “The S Curve”

Ba-kah! An S curve!

So when the bridge re-opened to traffic the following week, all the traffic reporters reminded commuters that people would be getting used to the new S curve, so allow extra time.

Ok, fine. Right? It’s a new thing, we all get used to it and move on.

Oh but nooooooo.

No, today, I had a rare occasion to have to cross the Bay Bridge. (stop shuddering, my dear mother!)

So, first of all, the approach going in an eastern direction on a good day is a cluster of merges that has always made me nutty.

Fine, it is what it is.

Then there had been an accident an hour earlier that had still left traffic snarled. Fine.

But oh…the best part. Once traffic was flowing along, I came through the tunnel that goes through Treasure Island, and then I was confronted with…DA DA DUUUUM…

The S Curve.

And people hit the brakes! Oh did they hit the brakes.

Fer crimeny’s sakes, people! It isn’t a frappin’ Z curve! It is quite easy to navigate. You follow those fabulous little white lines they paint on the ground. You turn your steering wheel gently one way, and then gently the other way. This is not a step on the brake-able road hazard!

My god. The freak out. The pandemonium! The utter ba-kah!

The Bay Bridge carries some 270,000 cars every day. And this change was implemented TWO WEEKS AGO!

But nooooooo.

Ba-kah!

*sigh*

This, along with people on the southbound highway slowing down to look at an accident that occurred on the northbound side, you know, OVER that heavy concrete barrier?

Bah. Kah.

Fine. I’ll just peck at my grain and shake my tailfeathers and call it a day.

I. Am. Cranky.

What else can go in there?

Oooooh baby! I bought a new eeeelectrical device over the weekend and I’m becoming an OCD monster with this thing!

After reading one or another health book written by some expert and the need for more fruits and veggies in the diet and how big corporation farmed veggies are less healthy than ever and now it takes tons and tons of vegs to get the job done and we all need to be healthier and have more fruits and veggies and (breathe breathe) soooo….

I bought a juicer.

[Tim the Toolman Taylor grunt]

Oh yeah. This one right here: new toy

I shopped best prices, best brands, compared, touched, felt, took ’em apart and finally settled on one with good reviews, ease of operation, and, oh yeah, I had a coupon. That always helps.

I clutched this little beauty to my chest and put it lovingly into the Jeep. Then I went to Trader Joe’s and went nutty in the produce aisle.

Whew! All stocked up, I was rarin’ to go.

I had a little trepidation when I first fired this thing up. It says in the literature, you can drop a whole apple in there. But, you know…sometimes they *lie* in sales literature.

So imagine my delight when I fired up that 13,000 rpm (6,500 on the low end) mo-chine and it emitted a low rumbling hum.

Then I slid a smallish apple down the chute and “woooompph” that thing was pulverized and a nice glass of juice poured out the spout. Oh, and it was delicious too!

Then I started channeling both Jack Lalanne and Tim the Tooltime Taylor, all at once.

I was like “well, what else can we fit down there?” For much of Sunday afternoon, The Good Man was patient as I ground down just about anything I could possibly fit down that chute and shove through with the “food pusher”.

Remember how Tim the Toolman wanted a garbage disposer that could chew up tree limbs? I think my juicer could do it! The juice would taste, uh, pine-y, but man what fun!

I *may* have lost the focus here on this whole juicing thing, not sure. But if you are a fruit or veggie anywhere my neighborhood, be very, very afraid.

I’m just saying. Today, there is a pineapple on my counter that tomorrow, won’t be more than a pile of rubble.

Woooo!

I am:

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And that’s where I come from!

State Duck Calling Championship Set for Sunday

They don’t have headlines like this where I live now. Nope.

I’m kind of sad I’ll miss this. Apparently there is competition in four, count ’em, four categories!

Here’s a fun fact: I can do a pretty respectable duck call. I can also do a turkey call, both male and female (they make different sounds).

Sorry boys, I’m married. Don’t bother lining up to get a chance with me. I know I’m a catch.

Source: ABQJournal

A love story

A journey through the soul, told in the chosen format of crappy iPhone photos.

Oh coffee. How I love you so. (Yes, I know the cup is empty. It didn’t last long. I slurped that thing through that pretty blue straw and uttered an “aaaaah” when finished.)

Yes, I love you oh so much. Sadly, you don’t love me in return. You leave my stomach acidy, my esophagus crying out for relief and my adrenals asking for a nice day off.

It is a star-crossed love affair. And a fairly one sided love.

Ice cream, oh ice cream! Rich, creamy, frosty, tasty ice cream. How I adore you as you caress my mouth with your sugary creamy goodness.

But as much as I love you, you don’t love me back the same way. You leave me phlegmy. Also, all that sugar doesn’t help my already acidy tummy.

And you always seem to take up residence on my already poochy belly and round hips.

Damn you ice cream, for being so tantalizing and so not good for me!

Cheese! My sweet longtime lover, cheese! You and I go back to the early years. Remember all the grilled cheese sandwiches we shared? Sprinkling you over enchiladas and broiling until bubbly? Remember when I’d just hack off a slice and eat you as you are, because you and I are so simpatico like that?

Truly, you aren’t terrible for me when enjoyed in moderation, but how can I possibly enjoy your delicious goodness in moderation! No, I indulge too much in my love and you join ice cream on my hips.

It’s cruel, cheese, just too cruel. I mean, after all we’ve shared!!

Ah full fat ranch. You tempting, tempting fella. You flirt with me. Wink your little bottled dressing eye and beg me to partake.

Much like cheese, a little occasionally, fine. But who can have a *little* and why occasionally?

But you mock me. You taste so yum and then you turn on me and do mean things!

It’s not right! I love you so much, why can’t you show me a little kindness?

What’s this? Oh, hey lettuce. What are you doing here? Hmm, yeah, uh, nice to see you too.

I have what can certainly be described as kind regards for you. I’m sure you’re a very nice comestible.

You just don’t…turn me on.

But you seem to *adore* me. Oh sure, you treat me so nice, giving me nutrients and not settling on my hips. Providing energy and fiber and you are such a hair parted down the middle, church on Sunday, help little old ladies across the street nice sweet gentle food.

It’s just…I don’t *want* nice!

I want wild! And passionate! And fascinating and rich complex textures!

I want to run with the bad kids and cut class and down twinkies and potato chips and stick my tongue out at “health” experts!

I want….I want…..

Hey, hey good lookin’…..what’s your name? Wanna run around with me and coffee?