ah miami

Every now and then, when I think of leaving Santa Fe (18 years and counting), the place I most often imagine going is Miami. I have no idea why. (Although I fear it's probably related to having guiltily enjoyed this movie) I've never been to Miami, but for some reason I always think of it and imagine there might be some level of journalism akin to what I've found here. Plus an ocean (and some hurricanes). Anyway, I'm likely never moving to Miami. I'm probably going to live on the southside of Santa Fe until the end of time. But I have been following, with baited breath (that can't possibly be the right spelling. Bated breath? Hold on, must look up—Ok, that's right: bated breath).
this crazy saga going down in Miami. When journalists start signing petitions, you know the shit has hit the fan.

btw

y'all missed a great show last night with Shannyn McNally at El Paseo. I liked her show at Bar B a few years ago better, but not because she wasn't great last night, just because there were a lot of fratty loud people in El Paseo last night and you couldn't hear her as well as I would have liked. She's great and has a new album. Here's one of her songs off her last album that I really like a lot:

I really don't understand what is going on with Santa Fe's state senator, John Grubesic. I do know that public officials need to be available to newspapers when they are looking for comment, and make every attempt to show a good face to the public. Grubesic's voting record and his work in the first Legislature probably closely approximated the kind of representation Santa Fe wants; it's a letdown to the public, then, to have to read about his cursing at police officers. And it's the public he should be thinking about, they are the ones who elected him.
On another note, Rob Brezsny wrote me to let me know I'm not quite grasping the idea behind pronoia, which is not that the world is conspiring to make me happy (clearly) but to shower me with blessings. And blessings, one might gather, do not necessarily manifest as things that are going to make me happy. They could, in fact, be things that are making me quite unhappy but will ultimately be good for me. I think of that as "object lessons." Whatever the case, I wouldn't mind something just nice happening for once. I've had enough yin with my yang for the time being.
Spanish Market is this weekend. I tend to avoid downtown during the big markets. I'm planning to do as little as possible this weekend. Doing my laundry sounds about right. And lying around Darius' pool and trying to force feed his cat who seems to be on a hunger strike of some sort (it's been verified the cat is not sick. I think he misses Darius who has been travelling a lot this summer. I joked to Jonanna that maybe we should go on a hunger strike whenever Darius is out of town).
I also plan to try to avoid road construction. I can't believe the St. Francis road construction continues until the end of October.

Best de Santa Fe

Well, The Best Of SF issue is on the street, and the party went off (and, yes, there were several things I'd forgotten to do, which meant that from 4 pm on I became a little frantic and a lot bossy. On the bright side, adrenelin is the most powerful drug there is. On the downside, I feel like keeling over at the moment). Also, the photos I took last night were not too hot. Here's a few.

The party seemed to go well last night. Swig is so big that it was really as though several parties were going on at once. Here you can see the crowd down in the Red Room.

Honey, Jonanna, Zane and Sylvie took over the meet and greet duty for the final shift of the evening.

This is DJ King George and DJ Automatic. Both of them DJd after 9 pm when the party officially ended. DJ Dynamic, who was the DJ for the party (and who won Best DJ as DJ Arrow in our contest) is not pictured because I didn't take a photo of him. Smooth.

These are our two former SFR interns, Colleen and Delores who, if I'm not mistaken, did not really know one another until the photo was taken in the ladies' bathroom at Swig which is, as you can see, decorated in astroturf.

I was kind of running on fumes all evening. I think this photo of me above in the astroturf bathroom at Swig pretty well represents how I felt.

The lighting kind of blots out the faces, but here is the Aware gang: Kitten, Weston and Jeff. I have had both my nose and navel pierced by Kitten at Aware and I would highly recommend going there for all your body alteration needs. They are very sweet folk.

Here's the crowd at Senor Luckys. Looking at the camera on the far right is Daniel (spacing on last name) from the affordable housing organization (spacing on that name as well. I wish people didn't have last names). He and I had a long philosophical conversation last night. I don't remember what it was about exactly, but I'm sure I was fascinating.
It was fun. And now it's over. Which means no more big SFR parties until Halloween. Unless I'm forgetting about something, which is entirely likely at this point.

grow up

I borrowed Peter's backpack for my hike with Dan on Saturday and have been walking around wearing it ever since. I just wandered down the street to get lunch wearing it. Walking around wearing this backpack cheers me up. It actually puts me in a good mood. Why? Because I am immature. I am, there is no denying it. My brain thinks adult thoughts and is capable of processing complex ideas, but there is a part of me that is so amused by walking around with a backpack that it completely obliterates the rest of it. Well, next year I will grow up. For now, I guess I will take my laughs where I can get them. I am weirdly sanguine about tonight's party. I can't tell if I've coordinated this party so often that it's become unstressful or if I've just forgotten to do a bunch of key things and thus it's become unstressful. It's possible that I've just delegated so succesfully that there's nothing to do and everyone else is stressed out instead. It's awfully quiet in here today. I think we're all in a state of shock. Even the really loud people are quiet. The sun just came out too, so maybe it won't rain at BOSF like it usually does. Maybe it's a bad sign that I'm not worrying about all the things that could go wrong like I usually do. Usually I worry and then everything is fine. Perhaps by not worrying I am tempting the Gods. Or maybe it will all be swell. It will be, for sure, a one-martini night. I am growing fond of sobriety and adequate sleep, finally.

On My Mind

It is 9:15 am. I have no memory of falling asleep last night but I did. In My clothes, with my cell phone buried somewhere in the bed sheets. The last thing I remember was talking on the phone to Darius about meeting up with him and Dan later in the evening for a drink. Hmm. Guess I was tired. Maybe I still am. Scatter-brained. Need to make Wed. morning editorial meeting agenda. And return phone calls. And deal with horrible snail-mail mailbox which looks like it is about to collapse.

Thoughts this morning consist of:

1. Glad it's cold and windy. Sick of summer. Sick of T-shirts. Sick of long days. Ready to have it be dark at 4 pm. Mood will pass. Still, glad it's not hot.
2. There is something in my eye.
3. Hegel's "Master and Servant" concept. Clearly true.
4. Hobbes' "The Human Race is Base" concept. Still on the fence, but seems true this week.
5. Pasqual's "The Heart has its reasons, which reason knows not." Possibly true, possibly just neurotic.
6. Vegetarian Sub at Backroad Pizza best sandwhich ever. Love it.
7. Kant: "Categorical Imperative." Alliterative, but possibly not up to the vagaries of the 21st century.
8. Email: Makes it possible to reconnect with old friends. Still, too much of it. Spam is ridiculous. I do not have problems with premature ejaculation. Isn't there some way to let the Spamming World know this?
9. I need to find a piano and start practicing again. Can't believe I've become girl who gets her nails done.
10. Am not in party mood. And yet big party tonight awaits.
11.I have no real problems.

the finish line

Well, we are in the final Best of Santa Fe stretch. It's kind of crazy that the same small group of people who normally put out a 60-page paper have almost put out a 124-page paper. I always feel the same way around Annual Manual, like, "how is this getting done?" Well, that's why they call it overtime. Actually I'm on salary so that doesn't even make any sense. I doubt I'll be making any sense anytime soon. Tomorrow night is our Best Of party for the winners. I am really looking forward to the weekend. Aside from the huge workload, it's really been a crappy week, pronoia not withstanding. Lots of angry people and quite a few mean ones too. Fortunately, I am a robot and have no feelings so I've escaped the varying degrees of wrath and insults unscathed. Yeah right.
OK, I think I'll go feel sorry for myself offline now.

Any day that starts with a story like this is not going to be a good day in my book.

Interesting Walmart story in the LA Times

you've got a friend

I have acquired three new friendsters in the past few days. One of them, however, is Lalo, Darius' cat. Social life officially at all-time low.

Legends of the Stall

This sign, essentially asking people not to put the large rolls of toilet paper on the floor, appeared in the bathroom stall of the women's room at SFR sometime over the last few days. I really wish I'd documented the anonymous missives that have appeared over the years in our bathroom. They are quite extraordinary for their wit and pique. This particular bathroom stall is more prone to them than the other, because one faces the door when, you know, sitting. This stall also is responsible for the knife-fight-like scar on my arm. It's kind of a cramped stall and several years ago I managed, upon exiting it, to become impaled on the door hook (to this day I don't understand how I managed this) and was actually flung, at high velocity, with my arm still hooked on the hook, into the facing mirror. It was quite traumatic. I practically needed stitches. And an ice pack. And therapy.
I actually think the best way to start a revolution would be through bathroom missives—it's an ideal venue to force people to read things. When I was in college, someone anonymously posted the ee cummings poem, "The Boys I Mean" inside all the bathroom stalls at St. John's. Well, no one is going to go around ripping down poems, right? (Actually I'm sure plenty of people would rip down poems, but I wouldn't). So I inadvertently memorized the poem and had it stuck in my head day and night (downside of a selective photographic memory). Finally, to exorcize it, I wrote a response, called The Boys I Mean (that "I" is supposed to be italicized, but it's not showing up. The Internet hates me). This poem ended up in in this anthology and, subsequently, all over the Internet. In fact, if you google me you will find this poem in spades. (Yes, I have googled myself. I am stalking myself until someone better comes along). Anyway, the point of all this is that you never know what will come out of quality time spent in a bathroom stall with good reading material.

something about the weather

Have just spent 20 minutes searching in vein (in vain? Vainly? Veinly? Futily. Without purpose. To no end) for the new Ray Charles Ives CD, Clandestine Pedestrian as I thought I'd listen to it while I wrote about their CD release party last night at High Mayhem. Where is it? Why can't I find anything? Well, the CD is great and so is the band. Duo? Group? I don't know. I don't even know how to describe them with anything resembling accuracy. It's difficult for me to describe music when it doesn't remind of other music. I guess this is why most reviews of anything are usually comparison reviews. You know, "If Jane Austen lived in New York in 1980 she'd be..." kind of thing. I asked Peter this morning how he'd describe rci and he said, "kind of happy jam bandy trip hop." Anyway, it is, I guess you could say, experimental and jazzy and what ambiant music might be if ambiant music were danceable. So they had a good crowd at High Mayhem and the weather held out (Dan, Jonanna and I were joking on our way out that it always seems to rain when there is a High Mayhem event and I was thinking to myself that it wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that Max Friedenberg actually controls the weather in Santa Fe). Somehow I managed to drink too much even though all I had were 1 1/2 drinks in the course of six hours. Apparently drinking less now means I can't drink anything. Part of it, I think, was that I had lifted weights for an hour 1/2, walked in the day with Marika from Chocolate Maven to Azulito Boutique and back in the blistering heat and then hiked with Dan at Aspen Vista for another 1 1/2 or so (that's the picture above. It's so beautiful up there. I wish I was an aspen. Also wish I could have videotaped Dan kneeling in the water by the Tesuque switchback asking me if he should try to swim through the storm drain), so it's possible I was exhausted and dehyrdated but unaware. This was made possible because Dan, after complaining about everyone getting tired all the time lately, had glommed onto my remark that perhaps we should drink some Red Bull, which we did. Red Bull will probably end up being illegal at some point, IMO, because it really does create the most ridiculously excessive exuberant energy burst. Unfortunately, in my case, this exuberant energy usually equals running of mouth and even-greater-inability to keep weird thoughts to self. As a result, if I'm not mistaken, I believe at some point during the night I told Brian from Ray Charles Ives that he reminded me of my favorite stuffed rabbit from when I was a kid. Sigh. Am hoping I actually just thought this and didn't say it, but my hopes are not high. At any rate, the CD is awesome and so are Brian and Paul, the band members who, in addition to being talented and very unique performers, are supremely nice people. Max has done this very impressive job of creating something totally unique for Santa Fe (and he's created it in his house which is sort an amazing act of selflessness I think) and the eclectic, interesting crowd he gathers at his events always gives me that nice cheerful boost of remembering all the creative people this town hosts. It's especially good to keep this mind when the weeks fill up with political hoohas and whatnots and I start thinking Santa Fe is a town mired in zoning issues. Although zoning issues are important and I've always felt a good project would be to require every single person in Santa Fe to read Home From Nowhere by James Kunstler but that's another story (I am not going to sit here on a Sunday and write about zoning. It's just too much).
I am going to get back to Best of Santa Fe now. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's dim, but I can see it. At least it's air conditioned in here and I think, if I'm not mistaken, I just heard some thunder. Bring it.

there's a candidate born every minute

Lately it seems whenever I venture outside SFR's doors, I run into someone who plans to run for Santa Fe City Council in March, 2006. I am considering leaving the building less often as a result. No, no, it's good. The more the merrier. What would be really great is a hugely-crowded field of candidates in both races and the mayoral contest, along with runoff voting in all. And 80 percent voter turnout. I think Santa Fe is ready for another high-octane city election. Or maybe that's just me.

Hey, almost forgot, former SFR staff Writer now freelancer Dan Frosch has his New York Times piece published today. Pretty awesome (I know not everyone reveres the Times, but for some of us it does kind of represent Mecca still)
Hey, all those locals in love with Walmart, check out this story about Costco on The Times. Turns out, you can have low prices and treat your employees well. Who knew?

pronoia—not for sissies

I love my job
Actually I do.
St. Francis Drive/Zia Road construction notwithstanding, maybe the universe really is looking out for me.
Or maybe I've had too much caffeine.
Best Of marches on.
This Tommy Rodella stuff is pretty entertaining. I talked to Tommy quite often when I worked for The Rio Grande Sun and none of this has been very surprising—to say the least. I agree with the readers' comments asking how Gov. Richardson could have been unaware of Rodella's reputation. It's not much of a secret. Although it reminds me, a bit, of when Udall, when he was AG, did the whole election fraud investigation in Rio Arriba seemingly completely unaware of the politics up there as well. (And, yes, I was called as a witness to the Grand Jury for that. I guess if such a case happened now I'd just get sent to jail). Actually, at the time, I was questioned by AG investigators who did want to look at my notes. I said no and it was dropped. It was right after that that I took to the habit of storing all my notebooks (at the time I was attached to taking all my notes on long yellow legal pads) in the hatchback of my then-car. Which eventually meant my entire hatchback was filled with about 700 notebooks. It was like art. Really neurotic art. This story got the most comment of any today. The Supreme Court stuff came close.
Slate has good coverage of the Roberts' confirmation.
Doesn't this photo make it look like Condaleeze Rice is getting married to Lebanese Prime Minister-designate Foud Saniora?

Pronoia Day One

Proof of Pronoia As Evidenced Today
1. Existence of Counter Culture Chocolate Cake
2. Prairie Chickens Unharmed on Agua Fria (see earlier entry from today)
3. Possibly vegan birthday cake. See #4 under paranoia
4. Cute smiling child by Video Library. (Although maybe this belongs under paranoia. Not sure someone else having smiling happy child is proof that the world is conspiring to make me happy. Just that person. Or perhaps that child).

Proof of Paranoia As Evidenced Today
1. Telephone
2. Emails
3. Stupid jerky guy seen while buying chocolate cake
4. Vegan Cake served for vegan employee's birthday (although maybe this should be under pronoia as I wasn't forced to eat vegan cake on account of having CC delicious cake and also made office laughing when I yelled "Brian's birthday cake is people."

Pronoia Five Hours In

Examples that the world is conspiring to make me happy: 0
Examples that I would have be deluded to believe such a thing: 6

combatting paranoia

Rob Brezsny whose horoscopes we run in SFR has recently written a new book called Pronoia Pronoia is the opposite of paranoia and is the belief that the world is conspiring to make you happy. I find this idea so patently ridiculous that I've decided I should perhaps embrace it, or at least try to prove or disprove it. So I am now on the lookout, as recommended in the book, for signs that the world is conspiring to make me happy and make good things happen. So far the only evidence I've gathered is that this morning both sides of traffic on Agua Fria stopped to let a prairie chicken and half a dozen prairie chicks the size of moving gumballs cross the road unharmed.

the big u.g.h

I feel like crap. I am almost definitely, maybe 95.7 percent definitely, getting sick. Which isn't even an option. Also read new Harry Potter book already. 700 pages or so, but kids' pages. Big type. Still. Now I am reading this book and it's not helping my frame of mind. Will be glad when Best of Santa Fe is over. Should not have gone out last night, although wasn't out very late. Went to Garrett's Desert Inn, G-Spot, whatever, on Old Santa Fe Trail, which is where Chicanobuilt has set up camp four days a week for a variety of DJd music. Actually it's very pleasant there. We sat outside, the music was the right volume (you could hear it and hear other people. Amazing!). and the drinks were cheap(ish. Not bowling alley cheap, but cheap for downtown Santa Fe). Also very nice man who works there who appears as if by magic whenever you need something. Matches? A new drink? Quarters for pool? I wish I could hire him over here and he could magically appear when I needed something. Muzzle? Lobotomy? Shiatsu?

My Life as a B Movie

These photos of Jonanna, Sonya, Jen, Donnan, Kai and I, taken last Friday at Swig, are very B Movie. B German Movie. It's like some catastrophe is sure to befall these seedy looking folks, possibly involving a bag full of money and a car chase. In reality, all that happened is we traipsed across the street to Senor Lucky's (depicted here from its lantern-festooned porch) and ran into a bunch of Artists Gone Wild (Zane Fischer, Frankie Kong and David Cohen, to be specific) at yet another Blocabuster event. I'm on a Less Cocktails More Pictures (or LECMOP) routine, for no particular reason except I'd rather look at photos rather than my own bloodshot eyes in the morning. Saturday night, as I mentioned, I went to Lucio Silla at The Opera. Peter and I had a parking lot picnic, which took the form of a picnic on a comforter in between cars (which attracted some mocking from passerby I'm afraid; but I don't own any folding chairs and, frankly, this was just as comfortable.) It's always very pleasant to go to the Opera. The surroundings are beautiful, their press office is unbelievably helpful, and it's one of the few places I can wear my Pashmina and not feel like a dope. I'm looking forward to reading SFR Opera Critic John Stege's review of the show. I personally found it to be rather silly. The libretto could be summarized as: "Despair! Hope! True Love! Conquering One's Heart! Rome Triumphs!" and the sets, while beautiful, were a bit modern art for Mozart, IMO. Bleeding chairs, furniture-clothes (can't explain; just go see it). Again, beautifully rendered, but maybe slightly heavy-handed, if my interpretation is correct (Julia's interpretation: Exteriors hide interiors and often bind people from doing what is in their heart; but sometimes what is in their heart needs to be ignored in order to SAVE ROME). Clearly, despite a few years of music theory, I am no opera critic. I am, however, a RECOVERED ACADEMIC (we meet weekly and discuss our chronic need to analyze character motivation and symbolic imagery), so I had a good time deconstructing the show. And the highway improvements to The Opera are immeasurable. It's no longer a GO TO THE OPERA, RISK DEATH situation.
Oh dear God, deadlines beckon. Before I go, the folks in these pics are all Santa Feans, except Sonya, who is a native Albuquerquean and my best friend in the world. She did a driveby (three days at my house) en route to CA and then Alaska, where she will be clerking for a state Supreme Court judge (she's a lawyer but I love her anyway). She came to NM via Switzerland, where she was working on a Holocaust repatriation case. Before that she was in Amsterdam. She is quiet on the outside but an adventuress to the 10th degree on the inside. If she had been in the Mozart Opera, she would have been wearing a super big Couch Dress.

off the phone

No, I wasn't on the phone this whole time, but I am just scrambling around like a crazy person and kicking myself for forgetting camera. Feel that to blog about weekend without photos takes away point of taking photos. Can not even manage to get through New York Times' articles on Karl Rove situation, despite starting them over and over again. Best Of Santa Fe looming in scarily. Heartbeat weirdly accelerated. Thought it was from stress, but may be just from Dite Coke habit that has mysteriously resurfaced. Should drink some water. Hate drinking water, but hated being on IV from dehydration for four hours more. Desk scary. Oh well.
If you missed it, check out:

this NYT article about Rove, that looks at the history of aides who were "indispensable"
This accompanying article about the art of saying "no comment also is good. One of my favorite personal anecdotes (OK, favorite might be stretching it) is that one time I was interviewing a former city councilor and asked him for his opinion on something and he asked to go off the record. I allowed it and he said, "I don't know," at which point I yelled at him for going off the record to say he didn't know. Off the record isn't the same as no comment, obviously, but I am slightly thrilled at the way the strange and particular vernacular of journalism has risen to center stage alongside the Bush/Rove fiascos. It's interesting.
I may have to break down and buy the new Harry Potter in hardback. That would contribute to an impressive windfall for the author.
OK, I'm going back to work now.

some mondays

really kick a girl's ass. I am typing this, for example, with the phone on my shoulder. I am on hold with SFR's lawyer's office, as I have a journalistic legal question I've been unable to answer myself. It's always startling to have to call a lawyer. Makes me realize that, despite the way I behave sometimes, I am not actually a lawyer myself (thank god). Have a terrible stomachache, had bad insomnia last night, and forgot my camera this morning with all the photos from the weekend on it. Thus, may have to have more complete blog tomorrow. Assuming I'm not still on hold tomorrow. aye aye aye

optical illusions

When I woke up this morning I was in the middle of a dream in which I was explaining, in exhaustive and great detail, how optical illusions work. I don't know who I was talking to and now I can't remember what I was saying, but I sounded like I really knew what I was talking about.
I don't think I sounded half, even a quarter, as smart during our morning taping of 7 Days in Santa Fe, the public access TV show I cohost with Eric Zipf, the funniest man in public access show biz. Well, you can catch it today, Sunday and Monday at 5:30 pm, Ch. 16 if you are so inclined.
I am tired and unfocused today, trying to multitask like crazy, send rejection letters out to staff writer applicants (always fun; not), plow through Best Of Santa Fe, get time sheet together, answer the phone, answer the email etc. etc. I'm interested in Pfeffer trying to push forward a resolution prohibiting the city from using powers of eminent domain. Two questions: that's good, right? Second question: that's not binding, right? Third question, isn't Pfeffer always on a hobby horse against non-binding resolutions?
Just got weird tip that south capitol building might have been evacuated. Guess I better get on the phone & find out why. If you see me around this weekend and I look organized, dashing and completely together, I promise you this: it's an optical illusion.

post-party/pre-party

The blocbusta party SFR cohosted last night at The Hideaway (which is at Pachanga, kind of behind it) was very well attended and fun and by the time I got home I had a bag full of invites to other art openings this week. The whole schedule of things going on this week is way too extensive for me to reprint in full, but you can find the schedule on the blocabuster Web site, so that works out, eh? And do check out the Web site which was designed by the very talented Geet Who Has a Last Name I'm Sure But God Knows What It is.
There's a lot going on this weekend folks, especially Saturday night, but I will be calmly ensconsed at The Opera which should be lovely.
Finally, I should mention, one more time, that while SFR has cosponsored blocabusta (which I manage to spell differently every time I mention it) and there are lots of artists involved, SFR's Arts and Culture Editor Zane Fischer has been the main moving SFR force on it (I have nothing to do with it besides mentioning it here. I actually can't even explain what it is. This is why Zane needs his own blog), and so a shout-out to Zane Fischer! A shout out now. Also, since he's not in any of the pictures from last night's event, here's a photo of him from last year (or the year before?) when he posed with a travelling beauty contestent winner who was in Santa Fe to hawk Santa Fe potato chips (I must get back to Best Of, otherwise I would go into more detail on that. On second thought, that's pretty self-explanatory isn't it?)

catching up on my online reading

Well, the photo shoot with the high-profile politician was relatively succesful (pick up the paper July 27 and you'll find out who it was). It went much better than the interview with the high-profile celebrity (pick up next week's paper to find out who that was and then think about the fact that despite popular opinion I am capable of keeping my mouth shut, as evidenced by the fact that I am not going off on a tirade about what a bad interview it was, even though I feel like it. Suffice it to say, I will NEVER be a celebrity journalist. I like interviewing politicians and activists and writers and thinkers; celebrities, not so much).
I am taking a deep breath.
OK, as I was saying. Slate has an interesting article today about the rivalry between LANL and Livermore
I mentioned, the other day, that Greg Mello and David Bacon had stopped by to talk about LANL and also to make sure I had the press materials for their July 15 event on writers addressing the nuclear age which looks very interesting. One thing I think is that on the one hand, yes, it's a good time for anti-nuke activists to put some heat on the nation's nuclear policy, particularly given all the problems LANL has had. And yet, and maybe I'm wrong, there is this weird disconnect where I don't really get the sense that most people are too worked up over LANL over nuclear issues right now. Maybe it's because liberals who would be worked up over it are busy being worked up over the war and George W., or maybe it's just because it's hard to focus on something you might want to change when it's been the same for so long. Well, there will clearly be changes for LANL down the road, it's just a question of who will manage it and what direction that will take. I've been told, by some, that morale isn't good at the lab (which wouldn't be shocking; I'm sure working somewhere that's been relatively villified must be challenging at times, particularly given that so many people who work there work hard and are very smart and, in most cases, are doing work they believe in, not trying to destroy the universe. I think this is the problem with societal/political issues once they are vernacularly entrenched. It's hard to remember there are people involved and thus, theoretically at least, the potential for change. Or something like that. This is also the problem, I would imagine, with working for the government, something I've thus far avoided).
OK, that parenthetical statement got me really off course and I've just reread it 5 times and can't figure out how to make it more articulate, so I guess I'll abandon it and talk some more about parties. Kidding, I am not talking about parties anymore today (except to repeat one more time to come to ours from 5 to 8 pm at Pachanga.)
Here are some other things worth reading today: (and FYI, sorry for all the spelling mistakes; my blogger spell check isn't working right now and I'm too lazy to check them manually).

David Corn's writing on the Rove stuff is good, particularly if you're obsessed with it. Also there are fun liberal ads on the site.
This In These Times story about The Downing Street Memo and how it was ignored in the mainstream media is interesting. Well, it's been ignored in the alt.media too. We haven't done anything about it, although I've been part of an online list-serv of alt editors discussing possible ways to cover it. Should we?
This Weekly Dig story about Tegan and Sara Yes, that's right, about a music group, but I like them a lot. SFR music writerJonanna Widner, also writing for Pop Matters, turned me onto them. I feel like Wake Up Exhausted is becoming my personal anthem.
I keep meaning to mention Jim Baca's post about meeting W and now I have!
I thought Zmag's article about US conscientious objectors in Canada was really interesting. You hardly ever hear about this. I went to Vancouver last summer actually and if one were going to expat, it would be a very pleasant place to be. Everyone was really, really nice—of course, I'm not sure a clean, vibrant city where everybody is really nice is quite the appropo environment for me at this point.
Dooce continues to crack me up. That's one funny lady.

sleeping with turtles

Insomnia strikes again in the form of me wide awake at 4 am after a very odd dream in which I was swimming in a lake and kept seeing a big turtle swimming in the water with me. This may be, perhaps, because my friend Jen recently had her turtle, Rosie, reunited with her after her mom brought her down (up?) from Texas. Or perhaps because there was a turtle in the book I was reading last night. Or a combination of the two. Or because my subconscious has gone on vacation. At any rate, it's only 11:15 am and I feel like I'm going to collapse, which is very unfortunate given that collapsing is not an option because:
1. I have to go oversee a photoshoot with a high-profile politician in 45 minutes.
2. My best friend in the world arrives today for the next three days before moving to Alaska (more on her later)
3. SFR is cosponsoring a party, from 5 to 8 pm, at Pachanga to celebrate the beginning of Blocbusta, the art project. (BE THERE)
So, I better save up my energy up. But a few things worth pondering.
1. Why did the Santa Fe Commission end up approving Peters' Suerte del Sol To avoid litigation? Really? What kind of precedent does that set?
I will say that the New Mexican's survey, that follows the story, is pretty interesting. I like the multiple choice question about whether or not you think money changed hands.

thank god for george bush

because even when you're in a terrible mood and it's taking all your energy not to write nasty notes and post petulant pages you are always allowed—if you're a LIBERAL JOURNALIST to take a few minutes and say something irritable about W. So here's mine: Anyone who thinks Bush will fire Rove has clearly not been paying attention to the very nature of the monomaniacs running our country. (Huh, that sounds more petulant about the people thinking such things, like Democratic senators, than it does about Bush). Oh, I don't know what's going to happen. I'm still trying to wrap my head around a New York Times journalist going to jail to protect Karl Rove. If you're like me and some of the details of all this have started to blur, Salon's piece breaks it down very, very clearly. Here's the link

If You Can't Say Something Nice

then be quiet. Probably not the world's most appropo saying in the blogisphere but it's where I'm at right now. Cranky, cranky, cranky and if I let loose and named names things might get ugly here on this old turquoise-colored page. So instead I'll leave you with

Ten Songs I'm Listening To In Lieu of Yelling At People and Sending Nasty Emails

1. Comfortably Numb, Scissor Sisters
2. Wake Up Exhausted, Tegan and Sara
3. And Be Loved, Damien Marley
4. Lyrical Gangbang, Dr. Dre
5. Lilybelle, Geraldine Fibbers
6. Show Me, Over the Rhine
7. In the Waiting Line, Zero 7
8. All Mixed Up, The Cars
9. Mo Money, Mo Problems, Notorious BIG
10. Be, Common

Finn and Tate

Yesterday Tate and Finn Palmer turned 4 years old. I have known the guys since their mom found out she was carrying them and, perhaps it's just because I've known them and their parents so long, but I really do think they are two of the funniest kids I've ever known. Also, it's interesting being around twins, because everything they do has kind of a humorous and mysterious quality. As far as parties go, this one was chockful of events. I was surprised, when I got there, to see Finn and Tate looking so preppy, since they usually have a more laid-back and mostly costumed look. I had contemplated buying them some sort of educational gift, but I hated the idea of being so unpopular so they each got Batman on a motorcycle figurines from Toyopolis, a great local toy store on Marcy Street (I also came perilously close to buying myself a reversible black and purple Hello Kitty! bicycle messenger bag, but managed to get a grip on myself first). The party began with strawberry cake with sugary icing, followed by present opening (my gift was super popular) and then the boys took turns swinging at the Pinata. This looks more innocent than it was because you can't really see Tate clobbering the pinata with a plastic baseball bat yelling, "You want a piece of this?" at it. As I wondered why the guys are so preturnaturally adult in their vocabulary I looked around and realized all of their friends are in their 30s and 40s. We sat and watched the pinata bashing like a TV show. After the alleged adults among us had salmon and potatoes on the grill we waited for night to fall so Rick, Finn and Tate's dad, could get the fireworks display going. By then the guys had changed into more normal attire (for them), meaning Batman and Spiderman outfits. They sat quietly with their sprinklers but, for no apparent reason, took to marching around chanting strange things while the fireworks were going off. All in all, it was four fun-filled hours. Jen, their mom, tried to talk them into letting their balloons into the sky while making a wish but the guys weren't into that, so there was no pressure. I'm not sure who was more exhausted, them or us, by the end of the night, but I certainly wondered, as I often to, how Rick and Jen manage to keep from collapsing on a regular basis. Still, these are my favorite little guys who, as I left for the evening, yelled out to me: Julia, keep it real!" Hey guys, I'm trying.

sunday, sunday

Why am I blogging on a Sunday? Because I'm working on a Sunday or, to be more precise, am supposed to be working. Will be working, rather, as soon as I finish this post. Best of, best of, best of, but first…
Friday night I attended a nice cocktail party held by Marika and Dave where I tried some crazy cocktail Marika made (from Gourmet magazine) involving, I believe, sake, cucumber and ginger. I switched, quickly, to wine, talked Joey into smoking with me in a corner and enjoyed Dave and Marika's lovely yard which, once upon a time, looked as bedraggled as my yard (almost) but now is the kind of place where people, as opposed to locusts, can hang out and drink wine. Then swung over to Darius' house where a party with photographers from around the country (well, they mostly seemed to be from Seattle) were assembled. They are here for Photo Arts Santa Fe, which Darius is involved with as a reviewer. (I think. To be honest, I'm not sure what it's all about and I can't ask any more because Darius has explained it to me so many times it's ridiculous). I was feeling crazily exhausted and begged off heading into town for the Cowgirl figuring, rightly of course, that I'd end up there eventually.
Saturday I finally got my hair cut. Thank God. I sometimes feel that all the growing I failed to do has ended up in my hair (must be better way to say that). I swear when I woke up Saturday morning my hair was basically down to my knees. And there was so much of it I could barely lift my head out of bed.

Christopher, who cuts my hair at Axis, is a crazed genius, even though he occasionally teases me and pretends he's going to cut all of it off, causing me to shriek and try to pull the scissors out of his hands. I've been following Chris around to various salons for years, though, because I trust him and because it's just amazing how good my hair looks after he's finished. It is, also, blessedly, about 15 pounds lighter and not tied back for the first time in months. Chris also told me some very funny stories but they're all vaguely politically incorrect or extremely dirty so I guess I'll keep them off the Internet for now. Hair is still too black, though. Chris thinks it looks goth but also agrees that when summer is over it needs to be fixed. I have a definite Wednesday Adams thing going on from what I can gather from various comments people have been making (actually being compared to Wednesday Adams sort of thrills me but clearly this isn't a healthy sign).

Saturday night, Andy and Pamela (pictured here with Jonanna) had a soiree game party in Andy's Trading Spaces renovated game room. And here's KBAC DJ Honey Harris playing ping pong. Honey is a very good ping pong player and, actually, the FUNNIEST person I have ever known in my life. I wish Honey could just sit in my office all day and talk, and that's saying something because I can't think of anyone else I would want to do such a thing.
After Andy and Pamela, Jonanna, Jen, Dan and Dan's visiting brother, Jon, and I went to Silva Lanes to perform karaoke.


Dan and Jon had a rough start with "King of Pain" but they persevered and did much better with Take it Easy by the Eagles. Dan and I sang our old standby, Al Green's "Let's Stay Together," although I wasn't really in the karaoke vibe and was judgmental about our performance. Jonanna and I never did get called to sing Elton John and Kiki Dee's "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" which was too bad, on the one hand, as we've been singing it at work every day for, um, about two years. On the bright side, it's probably better that the general public was not subjected to this. Although karaoke can be fun, I'm not sure Silva Lanes is going to be our new Saturday night hot spot. Yes, the drinks are cheap (and yet I only had one) but it's not quite the ambiance I think I can handle on a regular basis. We began to feel persecuted by the karaoke host, who seemed to be ignoring our names on the list, so we went into town and caught the end of the Sean Helean CD release party at—uh huh—The Cowgirl. (I think Sean Helean is really good western rockish, and if you missed him Sat. night the band is playing the summer bandstand series this Tuesday. You can check out the whole musical summer schedule here. I like the summer bandstand series a great deal, although I think someone should start a citywide campaign to have food and beer on the Plaza all summer long at night.)
Jonanna and I played a not-so-quick game of pool in Cowgirl's new pool room (which is really great; they did an awesome job). I played like shit because I am out of practice and also not very good in the first place.
This morning I met Dave and Marika for breakfast at the Southside Cafe.
Dave Carl is a tutor at St. John's and tells me that if I mention him on my blog it will be the first mention of him in a blog anywhere. Marika teaches, well, everywhere (CSF, ballet, other places) and is a writer and a great cook and one of the nicest most generous people I know. She is, however, nearly impossible to give a book to as she always already has it. I tried to give her that Lauren Grodstein book I mentioned the other day but she had it on her stack already. She did, however, give me a book.
OK, I need to work now and then find a present for the 4-year-old twins' birthday party this evening. I had gotten them something earlier, but decided that "homies" dolls from a vending machine might be amusing to me, but wouldn't necessarily be to their parents. I gave them, instead, to my ex-husband to bring as a present. Southside Cafe, by the way, has a great Homies collection on one of its counters. Their breakfast is quite good, but it's worth visiting just to check out the dolls. They are funny, yo.
Wow, the heat is breaking. I think it's raining. Hallelujah.

Ten Things Difficult to Do When It's Hot Out

1. Eat. At least in theory. This didn't stop me from chowing down on a delivery from Sandra of a Josie's lunch. I haven't had Josie's food since they catered a wedding I went to a few years ago. My God it's good. I don't really understand how this lunch came to me (it was explained to me, but I was so undone by the prospect of Josie's apricot pie I didn't listen). Was shocked, when Joe Ray Sandoval came by earlier, that he had never heard of or eaten at Josie's. His explanation, "I had Hispanic parents. They made us that food." Except he didn't use the word "Hispanics" but that's another story.
2. Walk. Pedometer has only registered 2600 steps. Of course, pedometer broke today, for real, as in the thing that attaches it to pants sprung off very dramatically, as if pedometer was saying, "You're not getting anywhere and I'm sick of you." Am now psychologically projecting onto pedometer. Am also carrying pedometer around IN POCKET and don't think it's picking up steps as well.
3. Be civil. Any emails or calls I received today that were in the slightest bit provocative were not treated with particular graciousness. Sorry Tom! Heat plus over-heated girl equals cranky irrational bitch. Sigh.
4. Wear hair down. Hair has now been in knotty unbecoming knot for five days straight. Looks hideous. And it's too hot to dry hair so even if it was down it would look hideous. Is also overdue for haircut, which I am getting tomorrow. Pray hairdresser actually cuts it. Last time hair was LONGER when I left hairdresser than when I got there.
5. Smoke. It is too hot to smoke. Perhaps could quit smoking by moving to some very, very hot place. Can't think of where is hot right now because
6. Think. It is too hot to think. Have accomplished so little today it's ridiculous. Asked Pakistinian journalist (was not Palestinian as written before) no good questions. Did not make any headway through enormous pile of resumes.
7. Read. Have not started new book in days. Instead, last night, reread Reproduction is the flaw of love. Made vow to self some time ago (possibly after re-reading Franny & Zooey and Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time)
8. Look Pretty. I have TWO cocktail parties to go to and I look, well, I look hot, tired and confused.
9. Talk about Los Alamos National Laboratory. Greg Mello and David Bacon just stopped by to see me (at 445 pm on a Friday) to discuss the future of LANL and what kind of coverage it should get. I then went off on a tirade about Walmart and the Planning Commission meeting. I think it cheered them up to hear me go off on a tirade and they left happy.
10. Make lists.

Just got around to reading the NY Times editorial about Judith Miller going to jail recommended to me last night by D Frosch (over yummy falafel sandwiches at Pyramid.
Here's some good links from The First Amendment Center about how journalists and the need for a federal shield law.

Just got back from taping the show I cohost for Channel 16 (formally Channel 8), "7 Days in Santa Fe." You can see it tonight at 5:30 pm. Anyway, got back here and realized I had taped the entire show with my shirt on inside out. Classy. Used to do more for public access (legislative coverage; election coverage). Found out today that, allegedly, the former city clerk told public access TV that the city didn't want me hosting city coverage anymore. That really hurts my feelings (no it doesn't). What else? There is a Palestinian journalist arriving here imminently to talk to me. Went to the planning commission meeting last night, the one where they gave a thumbs up to the super walmart. Don't want to write too much about it as I plan to have stuff in next week's paper. Suffice it to say, I think the dailies left me plenty of things to write about. Hmm. Well, maybe I'll write more on that later.

bad news from london

If you're having a hard time reading the mainstream (by which I mean New York Times) coverage of the terrorist bombing (by which I mean to say, I am having a hard time reading it for some reason), I would highly recommend Slate's dispatches, which have a humanizing and personal tone to them that is a bit easier to digest.
Also, the BBC reporter logs
And here's the link to Salon's round up of London blogs
Also thought this article on Why London, Why Now provides an interesting context for the bombings, although I'm becoming increasingly sceptical about the instant-analysis going on in the world these days.
Predictably, the blogistan has much to say on the attack, but nothing yet that has really caught my notice.
This all makes me sad, all over again, for New York and for how people there must be feeling right now.

this says it pretty well

WHY REPORTERS MUST BE ABLE TO KEEP CONFIDENTIAL SOURCES CONFIDENTIAL:
THE CASE FOR A FEDERAL SHIELD LAW NOW

By the California First Amendment Coalition
July 6, 2005

Across the land, freedom of the press--that is, the freedom of American citizens, through the press, to be kept informed about the affairs of government--is under assault. The threat comes not from the left or the right, from the Administration or Congress, but from federal judges, prosecutors and litigants who no longer feel constrained by law, ethics or policy from demanding that journalists disclose their confidential sources.
It is estimated that during the past year more than 70 journalists and news organizations have been involved in disputes with prosecutors and litigants in federal court over access to unpublished, confidential information. Dozens have received subpoenas demanding records or testimony; one journalist, Jim Taricani, a television reporter in Rhode Island, has already served a sentence for refusing to identify an anonymous source; and at least nine journalists have been held in contempt and currently face the threat of imminent incarceration or heavy fines (or both), including New York Times reporter Judith Miller, who was ordered jailed today. (Time magazine reporter Matthew Cooper, explaining that his source had expressly relieved him of his secrecy obligation, announced today that he would cooperate with the Special Counsel.)
The threat against the press is not new in American history. During British colonial rule, writer John Peter Zenger refused to reveal his sources while serving a sentence for "libeling" the governor of New York, and Benjamin Franklin declined to name the confidential sources for stories appearing in his brother's newspaper in Philadelphia. What is new is the pervasiveness and intensity of the threat. We have moved from a climate in which federal courts were, under a variety of legal theories, protective of reporters' confidential sources, to a climate in which a wave of federal court subpoenas now places the independence of the press in jeopardy.
At stake is the American people's right to know about the uses and misuses of power in high places. If journalists cannot promise confidentiality to a source--and have that source believe that his/her identity will never be revealed--the public will lose news reports of the greatest importance and consequence for public policy. These include reporting on corporate malfeasance, national security, and government corruption--all subjects for which confidential sources are not merely desirable, but indispensable. The best example in contemporary history is the reporting by Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein that uncovered the Watergate scandals. The secrecy surrounding their most valuable confidential source, FBI official Mark Felt (aka "Deep Throat"), lasted more than 30 years and was lifted only recently by Felt himself.
The judicial threat is almost uniquely federal. Forty-nine states and the District of Columbia, through legislation or court decision, have adopted "shield laws" providing an evidentiary privilege for reporters--much like the privileges enjoyed by clergy, lawyers and psychotherapists-- to keep secret information given them in confidence. Although some federal judicial circuits also recognize such a privilege, most do not, and the Supreme Court's recent decision not to review a crucial contempt ruling against reporters Miller and Cooper leaves no room for hope that the federal courts will, on their own, end the assault on press freedom.
Accordingly, we look to Congress for action on this urgent matter. Congress now has before it several bills to establish a reporter's evidentiary privilege in federal proceedings. We urge members of California's Congressional delegation, Democrats and Republicans alike, to come together and support the most promising of these bills. The issue is no longer whether a federal "shield law" is needed; the issue, rather, is how soon it can be enacted. Freedom of speech, upon which all our freedoms depend, hangs in the balance.

anonymous sources, bill richardson and the usual superficial crap

Hmm. Steve Terrell does a great job explaining the link between NY Times reporter Judith Miller's incarceration and Gov. Bill Richardson in case you're fuzzy on why, once again, New Mexico has a tie to a big national story. We did so much Wen Ho Lee reporting. I wish some of it were online so I could link to it. Well, when I say "we," I should say "me" as I wrote most of it. Hmm. I don't know. I guess I should re-read what I wrote myself and try to recreate what I thought at the time. OK, I'll stop being full of shit. I know at the time I believed, 100 percent, that Richardson was involved with the leak. But I didn't have a huge reason to think that... except that, at the time, I believed the NYT wouldn't go forward with such damaging accusations unless they felt pretty freaking confident, and I couldn't imagine a source one would feel more confident about naming a DOE employee as a potential spy than the DOE Secretary. I'm an Occam's Razor kind of girl that way. Well, perhaps time will tell.
In other news, turn-out at the pre Walmart protest meeting was pretty light. I'm surprised Santa Feans aren't more up in arms about this super walmart. Or maybe I'm not surprised at all. On the one hand, people may be thinking, we already have a walmart. Still, shouldn't they be thinking, on the other hand, why do we need another 150,000 big box Walmart? Perhaps on that ever-useful third hand they are thinking: eh, south side, who cares what happens there. Or perhaps that's just me spouting cynical. But, I have to say, it certainly seems as though downtown development garners a heck of alot more activism than southside development does. Yet, as I say that, I should note, that the people organizing The Coallition to Limit Big Box Stores in Santa Fe, a 4-week old organization, were very smart and articulate. And they'll be protesting in front of city hall at 5:30 pm, so if you care about this stuff, swing by. I believe Stewart Udall is supposed to be in attendence.
What else? I'm getting lots of rest and exersize, which is good but, well, boring. Also, I seem to have lost that freaking pedometer. OK, better get to work.

walmart

Ugh. I am going to cut out a bit early as the last few hours of today are, as far as I can tell, the last few hours I am not completely booked for the next several days. On the agenda: tonight's 6:30 pm meeting at the Unitarian Church to hear plans to protest the new proposed super Walmart. Interviews tomorrow and lunch with one of our owners, who is in town. Then swing by the walmart protest at city hall at 5:30 pm. Friday morning I am taping 7 Days in Santa Fe, my former public access television show that has been brought out of retirement for some reason. Then an interview with a Palestinian journalist in town for... for... um, yeah, ok, I don't remember why. I just know it's on my calendar. Friday night I have two cocktail parties to go to for... for... um, yeah, Ok, I don't remember why. Saturday night it's karaoke! Sunday it's Best of Santa Fe editing. Monday it's a phone interview with a famous movie star (can't tell you who, that would ruin the surprise). Run, run, run. But no speeding!

Jesus

New York Times Reporter Is Jailed for Keeping Source Secret
She never even wrote a freaking article about it.
Wish there was there was a rally here I could attend. Jesus.

Guess Lil Kim is going to jail too

my day so far

6 am: cell phone alarm goes off in weird new-age music way I swear to God I didn't program.
6:03 am: pedometer goes off, chirping: "It is 6:03 am! Welcome to Week Seven." How is it possible I have only been walking with pedometer for seven weeks? Feels like it has been at least 7 years.
6:15 am: Make coffee, pet dogs, shake head vigorously to try to wake up. Put aloe vera on horrible sunburn affecting only weird portions of body.
6:25 am: Take dogs on walk, spend most of the time trying to drag them away from garbage.
6:50 am: Walk down the street and feed friend's two one-eyed cats.
6:55 am: Go for run, which turns into brisk walk, as running movement appears to aggravate horrible sunburn. Put ipod on shuffle but it keeps playing Aimie Mann. Feel mildly depressed and switch to Chingy, "Bagg Up."
7:40 am: Get back home, shower, get dressed, realize have only one clean shirt to wear and pick that one, make sure dogs have enough food and water, ask oldest dog to stop bringing kibble in my bedroom and hiding it in corners.
8:05 am: Finally leave house. Can not understand why there is always weird 20 minute lag time between being ready to go and actually getting in car.
8:10-8:30 am: Take West Alameda downtown. Listen to Scizzor Sisters, "Comfortably Numb" cover over and over again.
8:40-9 am: Read email. Includes funny one from Joe Monahan and AOL greeting card wishing me a Happy Chocolate Day. Scan local blogs. None are updated yet.
9:05 am: Borrow money out of petty cash and go down street to buy overpriced, but delicious, bran muffin at Ecce.
9:10 am: Come back to work and make list of things to do today: June budget payment; read resumes; work on Best of Santa Fe; make agenda for 10:30 am meeting.
9:20 am: Read morning daily paperss
9:25 am: Finish reading them. Even less news than usual. Both daillies top of the fold are stories about affordable housing with big pictures of Plaza music scene below them.
9:26 am: Decide to blog quickly before day overtakes me.
9:29 am: Get to work!

my weekend in low resolution

It's sad how low-rez the photos on my phone are. I guess I am going to have to bite the bullet and buy a digital camera, or start borrowing The Reporter's camera on a regular basis. At any rate, this was my attempt to capture some of the color from the wedding I attended Saturday night of Daniel Kovnat and Clementine Wood but, as you can see, they are terrible. I took some photos of US Rep. Tom Udall, D-NM and his wife Jill Cooper, but they turned out so badly (because I was trying to snap them without them noticing) that I'm not going to bother posting them. Udall and Jill always seem so happy to see me I can't quite figure it out, but perhaps it's because they are politicians (ya think). Jill also introduced me to Judy Blume, which was kind of exciting, except I really didn't get to talk to her (and was very worried I might blurt out, at any moment, "Are you there God? It's me, Julia." I didn't). The wedding was very sweet, though, and I got to see Kate Winslow, pictured here with Jamie Blosser (although they both are very fuzzy. In the picture, that is). Also went to Los Lobos, which was a lot of fun. This is a picture of Dan and Jonanna smoking in the smoking area of the Los Lobos show, which was the dugout at the park. I realize, as far as pictures go, this isn't too inspiring, but I wanted to document things somehow. After the show, a slew of us went to The Cowgirl. Also went there Saturday night, after the wedding, and saw a great band out of Taos Honest Abe, who I hope come back soon. They were really good (and you can get some mp3s of them on that site, so check it out). Also have to say Senor Lucky's, the new place replacing The Palace, is looking very nice. I just stopped in Friday night to the patio to check it out, but it looks great, and had a nice South Beach vibe to it (the place, not the diet). Am predicting, as of now, that the Cuban thing that swept LA and NY two years ago is hitting Santa Fe this summer, at least based on what I've seen this weekend.
Yesterday, convinced my cupcake to excersize ratio was heading in a bad direction, I hiked Atalaya. Good idea in theory, hot as all get out in reality. Also, it's unbelievably eroded up there since the last time I hiked it. Sort of unpleasantly so. Went to Tom Sharpe, of The New Mexican's, Fourth BBQ, which was lovely as usual. Then, for reasons I can't quite explain, left before tbe fireworks, went to a party downtown where you couldn't see any fireworks, and headed back to the southside just in time to get caught in all the post-fireworks traffic. Dan thought the bright side to this was we got to sit in heavy traffic blasting music like we were in LA. I did not see this as much of a bright side, although it didn't last long and the company was good (and the music, of course).
So, now it's July 5. There are sixty new laws on the books, another hot day brewing, a huge amount of work to get done today (these three-day weekends are way over-rated), but I haven't chipped my manicure yet (it's been 3 days. That's, like, totally a record) and it's a 4-day week. So I guess I'll hit it until it hits me back. As you were!

there should a law against newspaper ledes like this one

from a july 1 alb. journal story on the 60 new laws that went into effect that day:

"Sex offenders will face more rigorous registration requirements while New Mexico horse tracks will be able to operate slot machines 18 hours a day under two new state laws."

4

Well, the Fourth of July holiday weekend is upon us, and activists everywhere, including here are gearing up for a hella fight over the next Supreme Court justice. Interesting timing, eh, what with 4 July and all. Nothing more patriotic than thinking about preserving the constitution, and nothing more move-to-Canada inducing than thinking about who W would put on the court if left to his own devices. But, hopefully, the checks & balances will stay checked and balanced at least a little longer.
As for my weekend, I'm thinking: swimming pool, a wedding on Saturday, a little dinner tonight and possibly check out Senor Lucky's and/or El Paseo, Sunday Fort Marcy and Los Lobos, Monday chill out and then maybe go to Tom Sharpe's 4th party. Mostly, though, I just want to chill out, get some exercise, read, hang out with my dogs, get worked up over the Supreme Court and leave it at that. But boy, is there anything nicer than reading the Sunday Times when you don't have to work on Monday and don't have to feel guilty about the fact that you should be cleaning something so that all week when you run in and out of your house like a crazy person you don't have to see dust bunnies?
It's impossible for me to write right now. Joe Ray Sandoval just showed up to see me, which means he's sitting in my office talking on his cell phone. Anyway, in case I manage to stay away from the office all weekend, have a great, great Fourth. Be safe (drunk driving accidents are numero uno this weekend, according to a press release I misplaced a few hours ago) and, if you're so inclined, send a letter to Bingaman, Udall, Domenici et. al expressing your views on The Supreme Court.
Domenici's website
Bingaman's website
Udall's website

the swing justice

Anyone doubting, or wondering, about the importance of Justice Sandra Day O'Connor's announced retirement, particularly for women's rights, would do well to start panicking now. Here's some good background reading from Salon.com to get you started. I'd also check out SFR's E Assata Wright's story on reproductive freedom for SFR. Other good resources include Slate's shortlist on possible replacements The The Washington Post probably has the best, or at least, thorough coverage at the moment. It's depressing.

from the folks who brought you the lawsuits at the county jail!

I do not want Santa Fe County to buy The Paramount and all surrounding buildings in the Guadalupe/Sandoval Street areas and make them into county buildings (I'd link to the article, but for some reason I can't find it on The New Mexican's Web site, even though it's the top-of-the-fold story in the paper edition; go figure). Wednesday night, when the club was supposed to be open one last time and wasn't, I sat in front of the Bar B doors for a few minutes (well, 30 seconds; I'm not very patient) and looked at the chains on the door, the P decal and, inside, the Chicanobuilt sticker on top of the Bar B doors, and thought, well, that's it. And it is. But, you know what, there is nothing worse for a city purporting to care about economic development and vibrancy of culture to fill up its downtown blocks with government offices, unaffordable residential real estate and stores for tourists doesn't cut it. That's called a retirement town. God it pisses me off the more I think about it. They are going to ruin the Guadalupe District which, right now, is hella more interesting than the Plaza has been for a long time. Move Blue Monkey! Yeah, buy a downtown nighclub, put a cutting-edge hair salon out of business. Jesus, why don't you just make anyone under 60 go live under a rock. Argh!
New Mex also had a story about the lawsuit against the county for its treatment over former inmate Jimmy Villaneuvawho died in jail from cancer. We broke that story, folks, in April, 2003. If you want to read writer Dan Frosch's original reporting on Jimmy from April, 2003, click here.
Finally, why is that song, "a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down" stuck in my head? Jonanna thinks it's from feeding Lalo, Darius' sick cat, his antibiotics. I'm guessing I had some sort of Mary Poppins dream last night which I have, thankfully, surpressed.