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Friday, August 31, 2007

unlabor day

Yes, the three-day weekend is almost upon me and while I will, it seems, be taking a tiny bit of work home, it could be so so so much worse. I will only labor minorely (how is that spellled?) and will hopefully be mostly lying at Darbo's pool (although it is lightening and thundering at the moment) and perhaps going to Thirsty Ear. And maybe some kind of BBQ action on the day in question...
For now, it's an hour 'til go home time. So have a great weekend. With a little luck, I may have one more eensy post directing you to a lil Richardson story we're brewing up here. We shall see.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Some great insider info on the Trib sale from Joe. I didn't know the possibility of The Journal being for sale was under discussion. Very interesting.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

read all about it

c'est la vie

1. It's thundering. It was raining when I was outside walking back from getting coffee, but it stopped when I got outside. Dear universe: Do you think you're funny?
2. There is a dog named Chance in the office today. He is hiding under his owner's desk at the moment (see #1, lightening). He is very sweet. I like saying the phrase, "A dog named Chance." Sounds like a really bad short story title.
3. I entered the New Yorker cartoon caption contest and I feel strongly that this time I am a contender. Dear New Yorker: Where's the love?
4. I set out for an iced coffee because I was hot and now it's very cold.
5. Eating at Aqua Santa tonight. Boo yeah!
6. Probably hitting the Matador apres. Not hitting the vodka red bull again.
7. The Reporter's myspace page got phished. What a stupid waste of time it all is.
8. We just had a meeting to plan our killer Halloween party. Maybe I will dress up as Amy Winehouse this year.
9. It's a long weekend. YAY!
10. I am boring.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

vegetarians are smart

No, I'm not just tooting my own horn, the BBC says so.


Expected news about the Trib but very sad nonetheless.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Gonzales' prospects look good

according to a Mother Jones story just released.
This is pretty much New Mexico-style politics as well. There's one particular flak who, no matter how much he f***s up (and so far it's been at least at the city and the county), he manages to find another state job that pays, you know, more than most people make.


I hate to even admit this, because the second I do there's a strong chance that something stressful will happen, but I am weirdly relaxed, following a weirdly relaxed weekend. Now, often my weekends are chill, as in uneventful, but this one wasn't just chill, it was relaxing. I wish I knew why exactly. Sadly, I think it might be connected to the strange sense of satisfaction derived last week as I conducted my semitriannual (does that mean something that happens every three years by any chance? Cuz that's what I'm trying to say) office cleaning.
Whatever. Friday night, the boy and I met up with Gabe & Julie for a little pre-opera tailgate and then saw a little Mozart, which was long, but lovely. Saturday, I threw myself, literally, into Darius' pool over and over again (it was way too hot). Darius was out of town, but there were lots of screaming children to keep me company. Strangely, I did not mind the children, because I had nothing else to do and actually read the entire New Yorker. It was the bomb.
Sunday I cleaned my own house, and worked out, and went back to the pool AND got a massage. Yep, it pretty much rocked. Oh, and somewhere in all that, the boy and I grilled food (again, he grilled it, I just ate it) and had a few unimpressive games of pinball and air hockey (why can't I find the Cowgirl's Web site?).
And it's Monday, almost noon, and I don't feel like pulling my hair out yet.
Maybe it was the massage.

Another one bites the dust

Alberto Gonzales has resigned. Can't wait to see who Bush tries to ram through.

Friday, August 24, 2007

I'm going to the opera tonight

And that's pretty much all I gots to say.
Except, wow, I just noticed, blogger has video now.
OK, I guess I have one more thing to say.
The Internet is making me tired.
I mean: blogger, flickr, youtube, myspace, facebook—and I have a relatively pared down Internet existence, if I wanted to, I could add about 50 other interactive sites to that list (and have dipped around in dozens more that I've abandoned). Just typing the html for those four sites made me tired (yes, I know I could have just done it automatically through blogger. But I'm old new school...what?)
I kind of miss...what? The '80s, I think. I miss mixed tapes and the VCR. I miss only having one phone. I miss the answering machine.
I'm so old.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Solano's new blog

As promised (yesterday), the sheriff has started a new blog to chronicle his race for lt. governor. I may need to hire someone to read blogs for me and tell me what they say.

Sometimes I love Santa Fe


Santa Fe – August 22, 2007 – Santa Fe County Commissioner Harry Montoya will be conducting a news conference at 3:30 pm today at the CVS Pharmacy at 511 Cordova Rd. to announce the County’s prescription drug initiative for residents and their pets. Steve Shepherd, County Health and Human Services Department Director and a CVS Pharmacy representative will also be available at the event.

And their pets!

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Solano's unsurprising announcement

We all knew the sheriff was planning to run for lt. gov in '08, but now it's official. It's not the most exciting news I've ever governor, in general, being not the most exciting office one can hold. Plus, Solano's media friendliness is so unusual in a county sheriff (and in general) that it's made it a lot easier than it's ever been to get info out of the sheriff's department. Also, I can't believe the '08 elections are already so imminent even for local races.

'nuf said

So it's somewhere around 98 to 100 degrees at the moment, our air conditioning is BROKEN and the air-conditioning repair people say they can't come until tomorrow.
Yes yes yes, if these are my problems I should consider myself lucky, most people in the world spend every minute of their lives in worst conditions etc., etc. But I'm hot and cranky!
I love this Journal North story because I, too, have been wandering around for days wondering why it's so goddamn hazy.

Monday, August 20, 2007

my celebrity twin, or so they say

Over the last six months, the new thing that's been happening to me is that large numbers of people keep telling me I remind them of Amy Winehouse. A lot of people: people I know well, people I know not at all. People I'm talking to on the phone, people at conferences in other cities. It's bizarre. I personally can't see it (I mean, the hair maybe. And, I don't know, the face shape? The sardonic expression?).
Saturday night, we dropped by High Mayhem, and a friend of mine told me his sister was in town and that I should go introduce myself. I did and she, with extreme friendliness, dragged me over to the beer table and told the beer dispenser that she "needed a beer for Amy Winehouse's little sister." (I should point out that, if we were going to get technical about this, Amy Winehouse looks like me, not the other way around; she was born in 1983, which makes her 24, which makes her younger than me. But whatever, as previously stated, I don't consider such things insults). This particular girl, for what it's worth, proceeded to pay for my beer by showing the beer dispenser her breast. Anyway...
After High Mayhem, the boy and I went to our fourth and last stop of the evening, a birthday party, and the first words out of the birthday girl's mouth (after hello) were, "Julia, we figured out who would play you on the TV show! Amy Winehouse!"
(It's probably a sign of my generation that I knew exactly what she meant, since deciding who would play one on a TV show or movie is a regular past-time among my peers. Long ago, when playing this game at work (who would play us on a TV version of the Santa Fe Reporter), my boss said Selma Hayek should play me. It must be the hair).
OK, enough of this nonsense!

Friday, August 17, 2007

going into hiding

It's Indian Market weekend and I am afraid. Very afraid. Right now, SFR feels like an oasis, because within a block all hell is breaking loose and getting out of downtown tonight will be challenging. If I were a good and loyal Santa Fean, I would come downtown this weekend, park in our lot and take a look around. But, instead, I will go into hiding. Not entirely. Saturday I have two birthday parties to attend, and I plan to check out Sue and Lehra (third item down) as well. And grab some pool time before the summer is over...over? Jeez, where did it go?
In other news, the boy and I have planned, and booked our tickets, for our FIRST vacation together. It's ridiculous that we've been dating for almost TWO years and have never left town (unless you count Albuquerque and Abiquiu, which of course you should not.) I'm pretty excited. We're Santa Monica bound in September, so I can get my beach fill and so we can just have a few days without work and responsibility. Three days to be exact. Hey, baby steps. (And that's really all we can afford.)
Yesterday, I had my first piano tuning. It was rad. I've never seen a piano get tuned before and it was interesting (akin to the first time I saw lettuce growing and made the connection between what's in the supermarket and where it comes from...except maybe slightly less stupid on my part).
Ned, the piano tuner, was cool for a variety of reasons:
1. When he asked me what I did for a living, he then mentioned, several times, his shock at how young I was to have such a job (although I realize it's a sign one really isn't young when one is so happy to be called young).
2. He used to tune the piano on All in the Family (which he explained to me was a show in the '70s that, he said, I was too young to remember. I actually am not too young to remember that show. I would have to be about 27 to be too young to remember that show. Which is another reason I love Ned).
3. After he tuned the piano, he played jazzy renditions of "The Sunny Side of the Street" and "Somewhere over the Rainbow" to test the tuning. It was very sweet (but, as another sign I'm not very young, I realized as he played I know all the lyrics to both songs. Why do I know the lyrics to "Sunny Side of the Street">
4. He complimented the piano and, noting the sheet music open on the piano, said I must be an advanced player.
5. Said my house was pretty (it's actually dirty but whatever).
And now the phone is ringing.

Monday, August 13, 2007

back from evanston

It was, as expected, hot and muggy in Evanston, a little suburb of Chicago, where I spent the weekend at the Medill writers' workshop, both attending and working. AAN's editorial and diversity committees met over the weekend, and I am a member of both. I also critiqued four writers attending the workshop. In between, I attempted to make the Internet work in my hotel room and tried not to pass out from the humidity. Highlights of the weekend were visiting the home of the Chicago Reader owner (the outgoing owner I suppose I should say ) Bob Roth, who has the most insanely impressive collection of Outsider Art I've ever seen, including at least three by Henry Darger. (As proof that I am really not fit for polite society, I actually attempted to photograph some of the art on my cell phone when the host wasn't looking. Fortunately, they are such bad photos that I am not going to embarrass myself by posting them.
I have a strange antipathetic relationship with Evanston, which is a perfectly pleasant town that works my nerves. On the one hand, it's very lively and easy to get around (even for me, queen of getting lost while walking around the block). Within three blocks of the hotel are: Whole Foods, Starbucks and Urban Outfitters, my favorite evil corporate chains. Unfortunately, there never seems to be a whole lot else—although I haven't really given it that thorough a search. It's pretty and the university campus is nice, the lake is lovely. I don't know. I may just be psychologically incapable of saying anything nice about the suburbs, although in some ways it's less suburban than parts of Santa Fe. Although I never really think of Santa Fe as being suburban at all...except for, maybe, Eldorado and Rancho Viejo.
Anyway, I digress. I flew home yesterday feeling quite under the weather, passed out upon reaching home and now, here it is, Monday again. I am trying, now, to plan a real vacation (well, a real three-day vacation anyway) with the boy for LA in September. Am researching cheap deals online. I need to see the beach! And now I need to get back to work!

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Overheard in ohare airport

Random guy after checking me out in horribly long line for taxi: where
are you goin?
Me? Out of patience from spending entire flight next to 2 13-year-old
girls coming home from camp: Evanston.
Guy: Memphis?
Me: the suburbs
Guy: Never mind.
Never mind is right.
Yes, I'm blogging in a taxi. It's kind of making me sick.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Curfew Postponed—thanks to the kids

A controversial proposal to close city parks at sundown has been postponed for four months.
At tonight's City Council meeting, the Council agreed to hold off and, in the interim, "initiate a police blitz to enforce the existing curfew," which is at 10 pm. A statement issued by Councilor Ronald Trujillo, one of the proposal's cosponsors, also says there will be gates ordered to close off parking lots after hours at Franklin Miles and Herb Martinez parks, which have been identified as problem parks. "Safe and beautiful parks are a measure of the quality of life of our community," the statement reads. "We will continue to reevaluate the issue to ensure the quality of life for our kids and families." The statement also notes that as the city continues to hire new police officers, "we feel confident that...we can be more proactive instead of reactive to issues like this."
Trujillo came out to the front of city hall and talked and took questions from the dozens of youth who had gathered to protest the curfew. He acknowledged and thanked them for speaking out.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

almost forgot to give credit where it's due

The Journal Santa Fe very nicely credited our story on Zozobra not being televised this year, a very Santa Fe bit of breaking news broken by us.
The New Mex ripped us off the day after our story broke with no mention.
Speaking of The New Mex, I know we fuck things up as much as the next paper (OK, actually I don't think that's true), but I'm pretty sure the reporter interviewed Mary Mary Dykton, not Mary Dyksen/. Which isn't the biggest deal in the world, but it surprises me that something like that would go through, given that Mary is kind of a well known activist type (and, I should add, one of the few people in this town who only calls me when she has something nice to say. Perhaps this is why I know how to spell her name).
If you somehow managed to miss this, read it and then read Zane's column in our paper tomorrow.

The I'm Leaving for Chicago on Thursday checklist

1. Birthday package of burned CDs for sister mailed overnight after reburning onto CDs that actually play somewhere beside a computer: Check
2. Discovery of weird postal rule that packages can't be mailed in an alcohol box: Check
3. Eyebrow wax by terrifying and sadistic Korean women who waxes while screaming at coworkers in Korean: Check
4. Unnecessary purchase of body cream too large to take in check-on luggage: Check
5. Repeated lamenting to bored friends over missing hip hop show at Paolo & Muzik Fest: Check
6. Neurotic worrying about Nero: Check & ongoing
7. Laundry minus handwashing of overpriced underwear: Check
8. Preparations for next week's issue minus the last thing I still need to do that is currently out of my control because I'm waiting on an email: Check
9. Finalization of this week's issue: Ditto, minus the e-mail
10. Charging of all electronic gadgets going on trip (laptop, ipod, phone): pending
11. Getting of cash: Pending
12. Getting of gas: Pending
13. Tracking down of flight itinerary, last seen on refrigerator: Pending
14. Dusting of surfaces so as to not return home to disgusting, dirty house: Negotiable.
15. Time spent considering why a three-day work trip involves endless preparations; Ongoing, with no end in sight.

Friday, August 03, 2007

Ten mosquito bites and counting

I am so doomed. I swear, each day there are at least three more. Nothing keeps them away. Must go buy...Deet? Argh. This cheerful press release just came in, which did nothing to counter my ongoing paranoia.

Health Department Announces Two More Human West Nile Cases in NM
State Encourages New Mexicans to Protect Themselves Against Mosquitoes

(Santa Fe) – The New Mexico Department of Health announced today that two more New Mexicans have been diagnosed with West Nile. A 60-year-old woman from San Juan County had meningitis and a 15-year-old girl from Roosevelt County had encephalitis and meningitis. They were both hospitalized and have returned home.

There have been four cases of West Nile in New Mexico so far this year. The first two cases this year were in a 57-year-old woman from Chaves County and a 66-year-old man from Doña Ana County. Both are still hospitalized.
“We’re seeing West Nile activity in many different areas of the state so everyone needs to be careful,” said the Department of Health’s State Epidemiologist C. Mack Sewell. “Protect yourself by using a repellent when you are outdoors, especially during the evening and early morning when mosquitoes are most active.”
To avoid West Nile infection:
Use insect repellent on exposed skin when you go outdoors. Products containing DEET or Picaridin can provide long-lasting protection. Use products with no more than 35 percent DEET for adults and follow the directions on the label for children from ages 2-12. Natural products containing soybean oil or oil of lemon eucalyptus have also been shown to be effective but need to be applied more often.
When weather permits, wear loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirts, long pants and socks. Mosquitoes can bite through thin clothing, so use an EPA-registered repellent on your clothing.
The hours from dusk to dawn are peak biting times for mosquitoes. Take extra care to use repellent and protective clothing, or consider avoiding outdoor activities during these times.
Keep windows and doors closed if not screened. If you leave your house doors or windows open, make sure they have screens that fit tightly and have no holes.
Mosquitoes lay their eggs in standing water. Regularly change water from old tires, flowerpots, trash containers, swimming pools, birdbaths, pet bowls, etc.
Vaccinate your horses against West Nile virus, as well as Western Equine Encephalitis, which is also carried by mosquitoes.
Do not use inspect repellent on cats and dogs. So far, both have been resistant to the virus.
Common West Nile symptoms are fever, nausea, headache, and muscle aches. In rare cases, West Nile Virus can cause meningitis or encephalitis. If someone has these symptoms, they should see their health care provider. People older than 50 are at most risk for serious disease from West Nile Virus.
Both meningitis and encephalitis can be fatal, especially in the elderly. However, most people who become infected have either no symptoms or have only mild symptoms, and less than 1 percent of all people infected, including those who have no symptoms and have not been tested, develop meningitis or encephalitis. Meningitis is an infection of the lining around the brain, while encephalitis is an infection of the brain itself.
Earlier this year, horses from Eddy, Socorro, and Mora counties and mosquitoes from San Juan, Bernalillo, and Doña Ana counties tested positive for West Nile. In 2006, New Mexico had eight cases of West Nile with one fatality. New Mexico had 33 cases with two fatalities in 2005, 88 cases with four fatalities in 2004 and 209 cases with four fatalities in 2003.
For more information about West Nile, look up the Department of Health’s website:

Thursday, August 02, 2007

I can't believe I'm still talking about this

So I get home last night, check the TV and, of course, there are no premium channels, just basic cable, even HBO is gone. Gritting my teeth, I dial Comcast and wait to have my call taken in the order it was received. And wait. Seriously, 15 minutes went by and my dog was looking at me like, "If it starts pouring before I get my walk because you were on hold with the cable company, we're going to have a serious problem." (My dog has very complex thoughts sometimes).
Sighing, I leashed the dog and took him, the phone and the receipt from the morning's encounter at Comcast ("Would you like a receipt?" "No, I have total faith I'll never need it." Yeah, right) into the field near my house.
FORTY FIVE MINUTES LATER, an operator came on. Unfortunately, he came on at the exact moment that I was wrestling Nero away from a lizard (The look on Nero's face, I'm pretty sure was, "I'll take you home and we'll be best friends!" The look on the lizard's face was more like, "Is this how it ends?").
I explained, as best I could, the situation to the operator. I would have liked to skip a few details, but it became quickly apparent I was better off explaining the whole situation, as it would help me avoid having to answer questions that were off base ("What time did the repairman come?" for example).
The bottom line, I said, was I had a new account from the one I had yesterday but none of the channels I should have.
The operator paused and then said, in a tone that was more ominous than matter of fact:
"The box doesn't know it's a new account."
(Is this the cable equivalent of an existential statement?)
The operator then said he was zapping the box and did I see any changes? I told him I was in the middle of the field and all I could see, at the moment, was a dog with a crazy look on his face and a lizard that did not seem to be moving as quickly as it should have. I told him it would take me five minutes or so to get back in the house, that I'd come in the field to wait for them to pick up.
The operator said he'd wait for me to get home, so I dragged Nero homeward, holding the phone to my ear the entire time in case any other deep cable-related thoughts issued from it. I kept being about to speak myself—it's kind of weird to walk with a phone to your ear and complete silence. Like a mobile Quaker meeting. I couldn't think of anything to say that seemed worth saying, "So...your job sucks?" Or, "What's your favorite show?"
Anyway, I made it home and the cable is restored. The really really stupid part of this whole situation is that I have been talking about turning the cable off all together for months as it represents, mostly, a complete waste of money. At this point, I watch HBO when I remember Big Love is on (an extremely creepy show, by the way) and the news. For example, about 20 minutes after the Cable Guy got my channels restored, the boy came over and we watched a movie. On DVD. Oh well. I should call and cancel it today. That'd show 'em.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

the evils of cable television

Six months ago, I became aware that Comcast (which I am not even going to link to because I have had way too much contact with them in the last 12 hours) was having a special: I could upgrade, get maybe 40 more channels, and pay perhaps $30 less than I was paying. No brainer, yes? So I upgraded, and now I have dozens of channels with nothing on them as opposed to, say, 20. Last night, inexplicably, they all disappeared, leaving me with just basic cable and HBO. Because it was lightening and thundering, I wondered if there was an outtage and, since I had a spare hour of my life to throw away, I called them.
Weirdly enough, they answered and began pushing buttons somewhere and my cable went off and on and off again. The operator asked me which channels I was missing and when I told her she told me that I didn't get those channels. I explained to her that, yes, I did, up to about 20 minutes prior, having signed up for a deal six months ago. She told me there was no evidence that I'd ever signed up for anything and that I shouldn't have had those channels. But, she added, they had another special that would reinstate those channels, plus add several more and, again, I would be paying less than I was paying. Fine, I said, sign me up.
She punched some more buttons, put me on hold for 10 minutes, and then came back and said she couldn't do that because the account wasn't in my name. Now, this was not news for me. The account is still in my ex-husband's name. I have tried several times to switch it out but they have told me, each time, that only he can switch it out. These conversations all took place when my ex didn't live here (and now no longer lives here again, having moved Monday). But the billing all comes to me, the payment is taken directly out of my checking account and I have made several upgrades over the year, to digital, to add HBO etc.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but they shouldn't have allowed you to make those upgrades."
"OK," I said, "but do you see how I pay all the bills and my name is on the billing?"
It turns out that anyone can sign up to pay the bills, but only the account holder can make changes to service (though I have, as I say, done that as well several times).
The operator asked me if I wanted to speak to her supervisor. I did not, but said sure anyway because, as a friend once told me, I've got end game, which means I tend to feel compelled to see things through to their bitter end. Also, I have to admit, I was sort of intrigued that one could carry on this level of interaction with the cable company at 10 pm.
The supervisor came on (several minutes later) and we went through the entire situation once more (the interactions one has in contemporary society are, I have found, akin to being in a police interrogation. You have to keep repeating your story over and over again). By this time I was really asking myself why I was doing this. I don't even care about having the damn channels, but the principle (principal?) of the thing was irritating me. Not to mention the prospect that as soon as I had less channels there might be something on that I wanted to see. I might have insomnia at 4 am and be relegated to watching HBO Real Sex or something.
Anyway. The supervisor finally said that if I could provide her the last four digits of my ex-husband's social security #, she would make the change.
I went into my home office, dug out my divorce papers, and read them to her.
"Those aren't them," she said.
I squinted at the paper. "Actually they are," I said.
She then asked if I had another phone number the account might be under (how many #s do these people need? And why suddenly was she having trouble locating the account? That had been taken care of 45 minutes ago!) I gave her every phone number I or my ex has had in the last decade. Zilch.
"I'm sorry," she said, "you need to go into the office tomorrow and straighten this out in person."
If you've never gone into Comcast in person, I would advise avoiding it at all costs. I've been there and it's like the level of hell Dante forgot. I was behind a man who wanted to sign up for the Internet, but he wanted the deal he'd seen advertised, which was about $20 less, but only available via the Internet. Nothing the clerk told him could penetrate, it was like the greatest Catch 22 of the Century.
"I want the Internet deal."
"Then sign up for it on the Internet."
"But I don't have Internet, that's why I want to sign up for it."
Also, he was hard of hearing.
When it was my turn, I told my entire story again (when the clerk pulled up my account last night's supervisor had put a note on it that only said, "told to go into office.")
The clerk told me that there was nothing she could do because only my ex could put me on the account. It's unclear to me how he would accomplish this since I'd already provided for Comcast every number associated with his identity. What was he going to do: Give a blood sample? (Maybe they can make another Bourne Identity sequel in which one is unable to prove one's identity to Comcast).
It's been a long time since I really pulled out the rhetorical stops but, you know, I'd had enough. Plus the line behind me was starting to go out the door and I was THAT person holding up the line with a ridiculous unsolveable problem. Perhaps worn down by what was looking like a bad day (I should point out the deaf man wanting Internet and I were her first two customers of the day), the clerk conceded that if I could provide a document that showed I owned the house where I watched the cable that I paid for, that she could make the change.
"OK," I said, "like a mortgage bill?"
"Anything with your name and address on it," she offered (which seemed quite a large step away from her previous position that I needed to actually provide my ex-husband).
Since I had actually brought my divorce papers with me to Comcast (on a whim) I handed them to her.
"How's this?" I asked, pointing to my name and address and then his name and address in between the huge words "Dissolution of Marriage" (Dissolution of Joint Cable Bills it perhaps should have read).
"I guess I can use that," she said.
(I must point out that while my name and address are on my divorce papers, they appear so in my handwriting, so the only thing I think those papers prove is that 1. I know how to write my name and 2. I am divorced.)
Anyway, she decided that was sufficient (possibly anyone who carries divorce papers to a cable office gets some kind of special dispensation?) and proceeded to COPY MY DIVORCE PAPERS AND PUT THEM IN MY CABLE BILL FILE. (Is Comcast running Homeland Security now?)
So the upshot is, they closed his account, opened mine and transferred, they said, the autopay from that account to mine. I can't wait to see how that works out.
Proof positive: TV is evil.

This post, FYI, was interrupted midway by a power outtage. When I called PNM, my other favorite utility (I should call Qwest next and I will have encountered the Axis of Evil for utility companies), they also actually answered the phone and told me there had been a "feeder unlock" (Ah yes, the old feeder unlock, just as I suspected.) but they expected the power to come back on at 1:46 pm. (Which may be the most weirdly specific answer I've ever received from anyone).
It actually came back on early.
Modern woman trying to negotiate the vagaries of life: -45.

ps: Peter, you can still watch the cable if you end up housesitting for me in September. But it's my cable now!