Taos, Ojo Caliente, and Cops (and Space Bunnies)

Ayla and I did a road trip down to the Land of Enchantment, and visited Taos, New Mexico. It was just the BEST weekend, really felt like a lot longer than just a few days. And it was just lovely bonding time with her, just wonderful.

First, the FOOD was just unreal. Literally. I mean, from our very first meal on the road, we just had one incredibly tasty meal after another. That includes the breakfast burritos from Sonic in Walsenberg. That surprised us, it was like real food!

We left before dawn on Friday morning, heading south on I-25 through curls of fog. Ayla had made a great mix CD with a bunch of my favorites and hers. Some Queen, some choir songs, some classical, some new stuff. Some singalong stuff. We had a blast in the car.

Approaching Taos, the landscape started shifting, and we came across "classic" New Mexico-looking places with chiles hanging by the doors, etc. Got to town, got a bit oriented, and found a cheap little motel called the Indian Hills Inn that was staffed with just ridiculously nice people. The manager was like a movie character of a good motel manager. He put us in a room "right next to Grandmother Willow" -- a ginormous old willow tree, right out our window. I mean, functional and plain, but still charming in its way (and I mentioned cheap, right? Which always sways me).

Ayla and I went exploring, bopped around the town, drove out into the hills and got semi-lost. We asked the motel guys "where do the local folks eat?" and they directed us to this kind of crummy-looking Mexican restaurant, one of those places with a plastic-lettered signboard over the front counter where you order and then they bring you your food. Our food arrived, and we both went ga-ga over how totally GOOD it was. I mean, it made us laugh, it was so good. We started trying to figure out WHY -- was it the air? The water? No idea.

Slept like rocks that night.

Next morning, we got up and drove across a lonely gravel road to Ojo Caliente, a hot springs resort that was one of the best I've ever been to. Kind of a longish drive, especially on a gravel road -- but it was FUN. We soaked and lazed and soaked and snoozed and soaked some more -- because they have a bunch of different pools, all with supposedly differnt mineral properties. Then we had to drive back late in the afternoon.

So, we're on this gravel road, buzzing along, and suddenly, I think there's a helicopter hovering right over the car, out of nowhere -- this loud, blap-blap-blap-blap sound. Then the steering goes all hinky, and I realize (while going about 50) that we've had a tire blowout. Not a soul in sight on the road.

Pulled over safely, and Aylie and I climb out to inspect the damage. That back tire was SHREDDED -- it was GONE (and I thought I had reacted pretty fast!).

Marty calls us "Bunnies in a Spaceship" when it comes to "man stuff" like tool-required repairs. He insists that Ayla and I are... shall we say... "ill-equipped" to deal with any sort of mechanical issue. But, here we were, in the flat-ass middle of nowhere between Ojo Caliente (a bump in the road) and Taos (somewhat bigger than a bump in the road).

No problem! We're Bunnies in Space -- we can HANDLE this!

So, we put on the flashers (in case there's a RARE chance that one other car just might come tooling along the road, and maybe not see us stuck there -- I mean, it was EMP-TY), opened the back of the Explorer, and started hauling out the stuff to change the tire.

*I* even *READ THE DIRECTIONS*. Seriously.

Ayla and I had it TOTALLY under control. We high-fived each other -- "Yay! Bunnies In Space CAN Change a Tire!") and I started with the tire iron on loosening the lug nuts. (See? I even know they're called "lug nuts" -- hah!). That's when the red and blue lights started flashing behind us.

So, now we've got a Taos County Sherriff on the scene. NICE guy. He takes a look at this Colorado mom-and-daughter pair (and, of course, we're totally law-abiding, as is my nature) -- and he's ready to help. So he takes over the tire-changing.

Then, the jack falls over, because the gravel is so soft. That's when Cruiser #2 pulls up. Now, I've got THREE Sherriff's deputies, me and Ayla -- the biggest crowd outside of town. One of the deputies offers to head down to the barracks to get their floor jack (the barracks is apparently only a few miles away). So, Ayla and I stand there making chat with the two guys who remained -- they were just amazingly NICE guys.

Made me thing about the series "COPS" -- the people those cops always have to deal with are total slimeballs and scumbags. Here we were, just a couple of nice, average, suburban females, getting help, gratefully, from a bunch of cops! Hot day, even for springtime -- but when it was done, I promised to send the Sergeant a thank-you letter, which I did. Those deputies were probably the best "advertisement" for the Land of Enchantment there could possibly be -- above and beyond service, nice, friendly, helpful (and above all, helpful).

The Spaceship Bunnies got back into our ship, waved a happy goodbye, and drove back to Taos.

And that is why I'd like to do another trip to Taos -- because of the people (especially the cops).

red, white and books

I've been on a total Revolutionary War jag recently. Started when I read Founding Brothers, which gave me a real aha moment: all those old, white-haired, powdered-wig farts who were the first string of Presidents -- well, most of them were in their 30's and 40's during the Revolution.

So, I started reading about Washington. I never realized he was so flippin tall! 6'4" 200-plus years ago was a HUGE giant man. Dashing and brave. He had to create an army out of nothing but promises and farmboys. No supplies, no decent weapons, not skilled soldiers... and yet, there were some totally crafty generals working for him.

Then I grabbed a slew of biographies -- Jefferson, Adams, Franklin (his autobiography was a rolicking great read)... what brave men they were.

When you look at those stern, formal, frozen faces on the money... it just doesn't come across, does it?

Moving on... down the street

We've fnally decided to move. Oddly enough, we're only heading three blocks down the same street. Weird, I know -- but the deal made sense to us. Damn, I had forgotten (or blocked out) how much work is involved in moving! But it's okay -- new horizons. Onward and upward.

Hooray and such

Thank God, we made it to the New Year -- and the family still has an even number of legs! They beat the infection, Marty's got his shiny new knee ---- and, just as soon as we got him home from the hospital on New Year's Eve, we ended up having to turn right around and take him back in, because his gall bladder was a mess and needed to be yanked. I mean, is there no end???

But he has his leg, that's what matters most. More recovery time ahead.

D-day right after Xmas

Marty's next surgery is finally scheduled -- for Dec. 27. That's when we find out if they beat the MRSA infection -- or not. If it's "not" -- then he loses his leg. It they cleared it up, he gets a new prosthetic knee joint, and then we keep our fingers crossed for like two years.

It should be a good Christmas, but definitely overshadowed by the worry. Need to just stay positive and hope for the best. We could really use a Christmas miracle.

Will It Blend?

Hilarious, and genius. How do you take a blender, and make it interesting? www.willitblend.com is the answer. Love it.

dem bones, oh, woe

It's been a flat-out AWFUL string of months; I couldn't bear to post anything. Marty had knee surgery, and long story short, he contracted MRSA (aka "flesh-eating bacteria") and now he's in a wheelchair with NO KNEE. He has a "spacer" in his leg that keeps his leg straight (since there's nothing that can bend) while they're fighting to beat the infection. He's been so sick, and we still don't know what the outcome will be. It's a terrible time.

I'm coping with it as best I can, but I'm basically not handling it well, I know. I just go to work, try to stay focused, and keep praying. A lot.

survived the shilleleagh

OK, made it through parade day. Brock walked the parade with me, and damn if everyone doesn't love an Irish Wolfhound. He was so good. It was a fun event, but I was very glad when it was over. Rave reviews all round -- that helped.

It dawned on me that this was Brock's third St. Pat's parade in three states -- he marched in the Seattle parade when he was a pup, then in the San Francisco parade, and now twice in Denver. Love it.

superb silence in the snow

I'm still getting used to being a "denverite". The sudden surprise of waking up when it's snowed all night still really gets me. It's SO quiet when there's a blanket of snow, and it's so beautiful. I still am a terrible driver in the snow, though -- I hope I get the hang of it some day, but I have my doubts. I'm too much of a San Franciscan, and it never snows there!

Bought a new sectional sofa today. Hah. New to ME, that is! With cats, dogs, and kids the last thing I'd ever consider is buying brand new furniture. Maybe at some point down the road. Now, I'm all about the bargain -- and $40 for a big L-shaped denim sofa rocks, as far as I'm concerned.

and now, a flippin parade

Turns out that my job has me planning our major entry into a major Denver parade. Woo hoo! Chalk this up as one of those things I didn't think I'd have as part of my job description.

In a previous live, there was a stint where I met and worked with a string of what you'd call "colorful characters" -- a mafia lawyer, a Sioux money guy, a South African martinet with a Braveheart fixation, and two different burned-out daily newspaper newsroom editors. Sounds more like a bad film treatment, but it was reality.

Don't know exactly why this came to me right now -- maybe its because I've got other "personality types" to deal with right now.

Hell, it's fun. Let's go throw a parade.