Veronica, official daughter-in-law of NewMexiKen, is training for the Nike Women’s Marathon in San Francisco on October 22. She is running the race as a member of Team In Training, a division of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.
Click on the link to help Veronica raise money to support research and patient services. Your tax-deductible contribution will be helping cancer patients and their families.
… and about the best thing I got was the Bed, Bath & Beyond coupon. (20% off!)
Girl #1: So the entire time i’m watching this movie, I’m like, what is the Holy Grail? They never explain what it is. And I’m thinking it’s probably like, some kind of trophy or something…? Like maybe a fashion trophy…? Or something…?
Girl #2: Uh huh.
Girl #1: Yeah but no, it turns it out it actually has to do with like, Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene or something.
Girl #2: So it was like… Jesus’s trophy?
–H&M dressing room, 5th Ave
A better article than most about the human element (from many sides) in the immigration issue — At Unforgiving Arizona-Mexico Border, Tide of Desperation Is Overwhelming. An excerpt:
Frank Ormsby, a rancher, and his brother, Lloyd, said that after living for more than a decade in the middle of the buildup of the Border Patrol and the growing waves of immigrants, they are just plain sick of all of it. There are more backpacks littering the desert than rocks, they said, and enough money is being spent on equipment for the Border Patrol to rebuild New Orleans.
To them, illegal immigration is a huge business managed by powerful interests to make money and political careers. Among the beneficiaries, Frank Ormsby said, were immigrant smugglers, whose fortunes increased every time a new law enforcement effort was announced, and the Border Patrol, whose budget has increased fivefold in 10 years.
“There are so many agents they could stand hand-in-hand across the border and stop illegal immigrants if they really wanted to,” said Mr. Ormsby from beneath a wide black cowboy hat. “The money we are spending on the Border Patrol, in gas, in equipment, in technology, what do we have to show for it?”
“I see so much waste,” he added. “Ray Charles could see it.”
A friend has gone through the all-too-common experience of a drug test recently. In commemoration of her uneasiness, I repeat a story I wrote at the time of my last drug test (first posted on NewMexiKen in 2003).
Drug test
By NewMexiKen [1998]
You’ll be pleased to hear that all of your government secrets are in drug free hands. Yup, today was the day I got called with 53 minutes notice for my random drug urine test. Illegal search and seizure if you ask me, but I had to sign a waiver and give up my rights when I got a security clearance. My attorney advises me that this has probably already been litigated, so I went and did my thing for a drug free U.S. federal workforce. Hope Centrum Silver doesn’t set off any alarms.
Actually, I can state unequivocally that I have been controlled substance free, so the test was more annoying than anything. Too bad, if I failed I would have had my security clearance pulled and been given a probationary period doing nothing for the same money for months, as happened to at least two guys in our office last year. Poor bastards really suffered.
Highlight of the experience. I said to the person administering the test, This must be an unpleasant job.” “Best job I’ve ever had,” she replied. Whoa! In this job she is called a “Collector.” Can you even imagine her other jobs?
And for those who’ve never had this little indignity, no they don’t watch. They just don’t let you take anything in with you and they check the temperature of the specimen to make sure it is body temperature. Of course, they may have a camera in there and I may be action news “film at 11.”
Or in my case, perhaps “America’s Funniest Videos.”
Friend Tanya writes:
Prior to Mother’s Day I was racking my brain trying to come up with a suitable present for my mother. As many of you know, she was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes last year so candy and other goodies were out. My dad often gives her flowers and I had just bought her a dozen roses on a recent visit home. I decided to purchase some books on line for her at Amazon where I am frequent shopper as it would be convenient for me and mom would enjoy new reading material.
After searching what was available I settled on two that sounded like mom, “Women’s Letters: America from Revolutionary War to the Present” and “Posterity Letters of Great Americans to Their Children.” As most of you know my mother is a proud graduate of the College of William and Mary and studied women’s history so I thought these would be right up her alley. I patted myself on the back for being such a great gift picker and went back to work.
The presents arrived on Thursday and since mom had had a medical procedure that day and needed a pick me up, I told her to open the box while I was talking with her on the phone. I heard her say, “Tanya sent me books” and then I heard hysterical laughter in the background from my father.
What mom received was not “Women’s Letters: America from Revolutionary War to the Present” and “Posterity Letters of Great Americans to Their Children.” What she received was “Swingers – when it goes beyond curiosity” and “Essence Magazine’s My Lover, His Wife” which, per the back cover is the story of a love triangle between a married couple and an unmarried woman where the women decide that the man is not all that necessary (I am stating this as delicately as possible for my elderly readers here.)
In short, what my mother received from me for Mothers Day was…soft core literary porn.
If anyone who sent a more creative gift to their moms, I will buy you a frosty adult beverage once I recover from my mortification enough to show my face in public.
Tanya adds, “[N]ot only had they sent my MOTHER pornography, but I had ordered gift wrap and it arrived unwrapped. I don’t mind being off-color occasionally but I try not to be tacky.”
While Tanya’s mom may have been surprised, even shocked, think about the poor frustrated individual who received her order by mistake — searching through “Posterity Letters of Great Americans to Their Children” for the sexy parts.
… but nothing seemed to strike my fancy today.
I did see this from La Muerta:
The Mayflower estimator was just here, and as he was compiling his itemized shipping inventory, he turned to me and said, “You know, I think you have more weight in shoes than you do in furniture.”
The split between the human and chimpanzee lineages, a pivotal event in human evolution, may have occurred millions of years later than fossil bones suggest, and the break may not have been as clean as humans might like.
A new comparison of the human and chimp genomes suggests that after the two lineages separated, they may have begun interbreeding.
Few write as well about the cycles of life as Anne Lamott. A nice essay from Sunday’s Los Angeles Times. Savor.
Dubner and Levitt have a great new article (Sunday’s Times Magazine). It begins:
If you were to examine the birth certificates of every soccer player in next month’s World Cup tournament, you would most likely find a noteworthy quirk: elite soccer players are more likely to have been born in the earlier months of the year than in the later months. If you then examined the European national youth teams that feed the World Cup and professional ranks, you would find this quirk to be even more pronounced. On recent English teams, for instance, half of the elite teenage soccer players were born in January, February or March, with the other half spread out over the remaining 9 months. In Germany, 52 elite youth players were born in the first three months of the year, with just 4 players born in the last three.
What might account for this anomaly? Here are a few guesses: a) certain astrological signs confer superior soccer skills; b) winter-born babies tend to have higher oxygen capacity, which increases soccer stamina; c) soccer-mad parents are more likely to conceive children in springtime, at the annual peak of soccer mania; d) none of the above.
Intrigued? Try this: “The trait we commonly call talent is highly overrated.”
Are they cooking meat a little less in restaurants? It seems like medium-well is now what used to be called medium. That is, plenty of pink. I don’t remember any pink in medium-well before.
Can anyone else drive through an intersection after cars that were stopped for the light and sometimes smell cigarette smoke? (With the window down, of course.)
I think I’ll give up blogging and play with model trains instead. Yesterday’s train ride got me reminiscing.
It goes back to sixth grade. Late in that school year my family moved from Fenton, Michigan, to Durand, Michigan, a distance of about 25 miles. We had already moved schools once that school year, so my folks resisted putting us through that again. But it was a long round-trip to make by car twice a day just to keep a sixth grader and third grader (my sister) in the same school.
So it ended up that an 11-year-old and not quite 9-year-old took the train. Each morning at 7:01 — at least once they held the train a minute or two for us to show up — we would board the Grand Trunk Western commuter train bound for Detroit. In Fenton, we would walk the several blocks from the depot to school. In the afternoon we reversed the trip. (I can remember my sister and I walking across the wooden railroad trestle between St. John’s School and the depot in Fenton. Yikes!)
While all trains are inherently cool, nothing quite has the romance of a steam locomotive and Grand Trunk still had steam engines pulling its passenger trains 50 years ago. It was the best school bus ever.
A nice piece from 2004 by Adam Gopnik on Jane Jacobs, who died yesterday at age 89. The essay includes:
Jacobs has closely followed the Ground Zero plans and debates, and she thinks that the right thing to do is not to do anything right away. “The significance of that site now is that we don’t know what its significance is,” she said. “We’ll know in fifteen or twenty years.” She also thinks that it might be a good idea not to “restore” the street grid at the Ground Zero site but to break it decisively. “I was at a school in Connecticut where the architects watched paths that the children made in the snow all winter, and then when spring came they made those the gravel paths across the green. Why not do the same thing here?”
Driving home at noon from elsewhere I decided to swing by Costco and take advantage of the few cents a gallon savings for gasoline. $400 later I’m thinking maybe I should just have stopped somewhere else.
$49 for gasoline at $2.95/gallon. $209 for two pairs of glasses. $48 for two black injet cartridges. And then $80 or $90 for the usual stuff I didn’t know I needed until I saw it.
Good thing I saved 16 cents (total) on gasoline.
The price of gasoline is going up so fast around here they’re going to have to post some guy fulltime on the price signs. You know, give him a headset so he can keep up with the rise. Well over $3 most places for mid-grade or premium (and our regular is just 86 octane).
The cottonwood trees have unleashed their annual crop of cotton. It’s like snow falling at times, especially near the Rio Grande (the banks are lined with cottonwoods). At a winery/restaurant near Old Town last evening with the doors open to the patio, the barroom floor was covered. Ah Choo!
The Rio Grande Cottonwood reproduces by seeding, unlike many other flood-plain trees which regenerate by sprouting. It flowers in the spring, before it leafs out. It releases its seeds, each carried by downy white tuft, or “parachute,” in anticipation of traditional spring floods and winds, the principal mechanisms for dispersion. A mature Rio Grande Cottonwood can produce as many as 25 million seeds in a season, covering wide areas with a blanket of “cotton.” (Rio Grande Cottonwood – DesertUSA)
NewMexiKen hasn’t watched TV in nearly two weeks — at least 11-12 days. None. Nada. Don’t miss it.
T-shirt in winery: “Men are like grapes. You crush them, keep them in the dark and wait until they mature. Then they might be worth having with dinner.”
At a semi-pro soccer match last evening (Albuquerque Asylum vs. San Diego Fusion), a 9 or 10-year-old girl insisted on reading (a major novel, no less), rather than watching the game. As the night progressed the mother and father increased the pressure on the daughter to watch the game. It started out with “Honey, do you see what’s happening? It’s a corner kick.” Progressed to “You should watch the game.” Ended up with “Put the book down and watch the game.” NewMexiKen is happy to report she kept on reading. I mean, come on parents, yes it would be nice if she took in the game and shared the moment with her family, but what’s the point of demanding it? Leave her alone.
Albuquerque won 2-1. It was a warm, beautiful snow-filled night (see cottonwood item above).
There’s a nice story by Bill Plaschke in today’s Los Angeles Times about Natasha Smith.
“For the first 10 years of her life, living in a children’s home in the Russian woods, she was an orphan.
“Today, on the Calvary Baptist high school boys baseball team, Natasha Smith is a shortstop.”
Guy #1: The thing is, dating gets so much harder as we get older.
Guy #2: Yeah, especially if you’re intelligent.
Guy #1: It’s not like you can just look at a woman and tell if she’s smart enough to date.
Guy #2: True.
Guy #1: I’d never date an Aries though.
–in line at MOMA
NewMexiKen went to Costco today and bought a lot of stuff I didn’t know I needed until I got there.
NewMexiKen, in the middle of a grandpa break, supposes you all read such a prominent blogger as Michael Bérubé, International Professor of Danger. If not, the piece linked above would be a good place to start. I, for one, have always appreciated his personal essays more than the political ones.
Dan Neil had a big Hollywood party to attend Sunday evening. An excerpt:
This would be the place to establish my cool cynicism about the affair, to assert my purely forensic interest in the entertainment industry—which is, first of all, an industry, a business, and not a very pretty one despite the relative prettiness of the employees. Yes, I have many sober things to say about the crass and empty, and destructive, illusionism of Hollywood, which I’d be happy to run up the rhetorical flagpole if only I weren’t so worried about what I’m going to wear.
Now, obviously, my sartorial dilemma is nothing, nothing compared to my wife’s, a fact she hastens to point out. But Tina has an advantage. She would look fabulous in anything—a dress made of chocolate-covered doughnuts, or parking citations, or pink building insulation. If she went wearing a family of possums, the next week you’d see wives in the OC sporting possum couture.
Me? Not so much.
Girl: Why don’t you just make a list of things I need to change about myself so I can be more like you?
Guy: Okay, let’s start with your tooth brushing. How about rinsing off the toothbrush before you put it back into the cabinet so there is not old toothpaste and spit dripping off of it? And how about rinsing after you brush?
Girl: Anything else?
Guy: No, I think that’s the only thing you need to change about yourself.
–88th & Amsterdam
Eh, if that’s it she might be a keeper.
A charming essay about her grandmother from The (liberal)Girl Next Door. She begins:
My grandmother will be having her 8oth birthday this summer, and to look at her or spend any time with her, that fact would surely shock you. She still rides her bike daily, still bowls with her girlfriends and loves to go out dancing. She’s a beautiful, vibrant woman who reads her local paper each morning, watches the national news each night and has an opinion on just about everything. When I look at her, I can’t help but hope I am glimpsing my own future. Some day I want to be a beautiful 80 year-old woman who still cares what happens to the world around me.
She’s a saucy little activist too. Last summer when there was so much talk of mosquitoes spreading West Nile Virus, she noticed a clogged drain on her bike route that was causing a rather large pool of standing water. She contacted the city, but still the pool sat and the mosquitoes multiplied. She took matters into her own hands. She made a sign that read “WARNING, West Nile Virus Breeding Ground!” nailed it to a wooden stake, strapped it on her bike and rode to the spot and hammered her warning into the ground. Needless to say, in a matter of days the drain was fixed and the water was gone. Ask her about it and she’ll likely say, “Well Jesus, there were kids playing all around there. This town is run by idiots.” You go Nana!
An autisitic high school senior in Rochester, New York, gets into his school’s basketball game and lights it up. Autistic Teen’s Hoop Dreams Come True.
Link is to written report, but watching the video (on that page) is better.
Link via Three Bed, Two Bath.
… I know this isn’t the kind of high-quality blogging you expect from NewMexiKen. But a laugh is a laugh and this made me laugh.
Chick: …And she just lets him in!
Guy: And you’re asleep?
Chick: I’m asleep, and he comes over, and she opens the door for him.
Guy: And she leaves?
Chick: Yeah! So we’re alone, right, and he comes and, like, crawls into bed with me!
Guy: Whoa.
Chick: And I sleep naked, right?
Guy: Right.
Chick: So I’m like, what the fuck?
Guy: You should fire her as a roommate.
Chick: Naw, it sort of turned out all right.
–Brittany Hall Residence elevator, East 10th Street
If you missed your chance to contribute to Nora’s Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, you’ll find a semi-permanent link listed among NewMexiKen’s Pages in the right sidebar.