Can't say I miss the dirt

So, it will probably come as no surprise to anyone that my gardening skills are non-existent. I went through a phase a few years ago (10, to be exact), when I wanted a real yard with, um, plants and stuff? So I spent a lot of money on tools and plants only to break and kill most of them. I also spent a lot of hours in Home Depot and, to this day, really can't bear to go in there. (One of my least favorite memories involved a cashier needing a price check on the "Super Ho" I was buying and yelling "I've got a Super Ho at Register 5" very loudly over the intercom.
Anyway.
The boy, unlike me, likes to DO STUFF when he's not working (versus lie on the couch reading and speaking to no one). And he really wanted to pretty up my yard, disagreeing with my assessment that dirty can so be pretty if you just adjust the way you think about these things.
I was worried about him doing anything because I worry about water use (I specifically worry about ending up as a high user in our annual water use story). He convinced me he wouldn't use a lot of water and then, lo and behold, it RAINED all summer and he barely needed to use any.
Now summer is closing up shop, or whatever it does, and soon the yard will be cold and wintery, although he promises me that this summer lays the groundwork for next summer. Anyway, I think it looks awfully pretty (so does the neighbor, who apparently told the boy over the fence "that yard looks better than it has in 10 years." No one respects the dirt, apparently.

emo obama

Courtesy of our copyeditor, via this link.

chefs du jour

The boy likes to cook, which is convenient since I, occasionally, like to eat but rarely feel like cooking. Jen's man also is quite the chef, so a few weekends ago I devised my most brilliant plan ever: An ironchef cookoff between our boyfriends!
So it came to be that while the men slaved in the kitchen, the ladies drank wine and played Rock Band. Who says feminism hasn't made any advances? (I, for one, never say that).
In the end, it was a draw. Both of them made some great dishes—and a lot of it. In fact, if we ever do it again, we all agreed that we probably need to not eat the equivalent of four meals at once. Favorites included the boy's lobster nachos (yum!) and J's tuna carpaccio.
Really,everyone won. Except for me, since I was supposed to make cupcakes and didn't. I totally rocked it on Rock Band, though, particularly the drum part of Suffragette City.

Musharaff as a New Mexico resident

I can't stop thinking about it.

the vp shakedown

Well I've put my buck in the office pool on who Obama's VP pick will be. I am not a sentimental fool, I'm just putting my money where my journalist's black heart is: Richardson as VP is a much more interesting story for me than Biden. So there. Plus I saw the guv last night at a reception for film people at the Mansion and he was in such high spirits that something has got to be up. I wish I could find the bizarro photo of Richardson they ran on CNN this morning, where he looks like he's getting out of a car with his hand out as if to say, "Please! No paparazzi."
Who are you betting on for VP? Also, could the announcement come tomorrow instead of today so I don't have to go into production and change the cover story?

midwest return

My flight home from Chicago was as easy as my flight there: It left on time, was not full (I had empty seats next to me on both legs) and both also arrived early. Security was a breeze. Sheesh, even the baby two seats over was happy and never cried once.
As we took off, the pilot told us we'd be getting into Albuquerque a few moments early and that the temperature was 62 degrees, which caused quite a lot of confused murmuring on the plane.
Indeed, it feels as though summer ended while I was out of town. Although Chicago, normally 98 in the shade this time of year with 300 percent humidity, also was cool and pleasant (drastically cutting down on my ability to complain, although not, of course, entirely).
Actually, I had a great time at the workshop, met some cool folks, enjoyed Gustavo Arellano's talk and had fun hanging out at the California Clipper, a Chicago bar where my friend Tony works. I did not enjoy, as much, the drink Tony recommended, named for his uncle, called The Purple Martin, which features grape soda and coconut rum. But that's another story (actually that's the whole story).
So now it's back to business, with a few things worth noting:

Reporter Dave Maass will be heading to the DNC next week, so keep your browser tuned to Swing State of Mind, where he'll have lots of great coverage.
And, it feels like fall so it must be fall? Well, I don't know about that, but Zozobra, my favorite fall tradition (actually my favorite thing in general) is right around the corner and, as per usual, we are collecting glooms at our office, so write down those woes and bring 'em on down (or find me at my gloom table at Zozobra).
OK, back to the salt mines yo.

is it winter yet?

I apologize for having nothing to say. I blame it all on the crushing sinus headache I've had for nearly a week. It's a little less crushing right now thanks to my coffee/Musinex cocktail. I've been religiously sinucleansing and occasionally popping some Tylenol sinus, but staying clear of anything heavy duty or, god forbid, actual allergy medicine, because I can never tell how pharmaceuticals, even over the counter ones, will affect me, and I don't have the leisure time to allow for the possibility of being unconscious for 12 hours. Unfortunately.
Headache probably not helped by the comments from people I tell about it, a strangely large percentage of whom respond by telling me about someone they knew who had a headache and next thing they knew a brain tumor. For the record? Please don't say brain tumor to me; it makes me anxious.
Despite my lack of clear headedness, have had some fun over the last few days. Checked out last Friday's Gluey Brothers' show, which was kickass, and then went to a very lovely wedding on Sunday. Thursday I'm off to Chicago for AAN's writers' workshop, at which I'll be both working and attending. And probably drooping under the humidity.
And I guess I better get going because there is a writer in my office now.

a sentence missing from journal north story today on Jerome Block

As reported by The Santa Fe Reporter.
Pretty lame, given we acknkowledged their reportage in the story. For the original piece in SFR, click here.