boy it's been a good while eh?

This summer has been hectic, even by my standards. Work has tried its best to overwhelm everything but there has been play. There's been Delfest after Merlefest.

Mid-Ohio for the superbike races thanks to free tix from Mark.

4th of July with Grateful Fest at NLQP and even the Buell rally and the Labor Day Chicken Run.
Anyway, today marks the start of the post-delivery mental health break I'm embarking on. The blob of grey-matter is still pretty well toast so perhaps exploiting the electronic notepad ain't such a bad idea.

Our third breakfast at Golden Pride (on Lomas). We're taking it down a notch, only one #9 this morning for Chris and I. I think beer and dinner last night at Turtle Mountain Brewery pushed us over the edge. Yesterday we dispatched Jeremy while Mike and Dave he-manned it down Sandia's Peak. The cable-car operators are bracing for the upcoming Balloon Festival. It is a beautiful day and a much needed breather from the hectic schedule we've been keeping.

Using a decade-old guidebook to ABQ (hey it was cheap at half-priced books), Jeremy and I wound up at the kitschy Route 66 diner for chow. After ordering dinner, we eye up the next table with some mountain of food just arriving. When inquired, our cheeky waitress, Ylanda offered to buy us dinner if we ordered (and ate) the 'Pileup'.....neither of us was man enough to take on her challenge....

Good brews, good chow: Chama River Brewing Company
Outstanding New Mexican chow (I like the 'red') : Sadies

So after dropping Chris off at the airport, I headed out I40/ old route 66
Took NM 53 through to Zuni Pueblo...spent a little time hanging out at the Co-op which was 1/2 raw materials supply store for the artists and the 1/2 consignment pieces from the same artists. Ate lunch at a touristy-trappy location with a postcard view of the pueblo....that practically made my oh-so-so tamales yummier (!) A group of German tourists come in, gotta love the precision they take to their lunch order...NO ICE! Tooling about the village, my first encounter of the non-casino type, I'm a little saddened by the apparent poverty around me. I don't know how I feel about euphemisms of 'pride in the poor' or 'money not buying happiness' but wandering about town I am a little wary of raising the camera. I've not really talked to anyone aside from the lady at the coop and photo-permit or not, it didn't feel right.

I head out of Zuni toward Gallup. Yeah, this is the same Gallup that Dave White had told me about. After losing touch with him, I secretly hope that maybe I'd bump into him....
Gallup, as it turns out, is a little desert town along old route 66 and probably the only outpost of civilization for miles. Walking around town, I encounter both the El Morro theater and the coffee shop I was sure Dave'd be...alas it was closed! The local check-cashing place next door was furiously busy though; it was the first of the month. Looks like I've enough time to make it to Acoma Pueblo before sunset, so I blast east.

Along a roadside sliver of rock jutting out of the mountain-side I stop for a picture of the desert valley below. There, I meet Larry, a resident with some of his pottery for sale. We chat, I spend some time wandering about the rock and as I start to leave....realize I've dropped my rental car keys on this blob of rock, cacti and snakes. Panic sets in, frantic searching reveals nothing and I hurry to catch Larry before he leaves (storm rolling in, no cell coverage, one bottle of water, 1/2 eaten candy bar, windows down....dread) and practically step on the keys 20 feet from the man! Larry has a good chuckle at my near-mishap, says his off to buy his girlfriend a nice dinner from the seed pot he sold me and whizzes off. I mop the cold sweat off and chase him down the mountain. Feeling lucky, I drive around a 'road closed' barricade (Larry said the construction was minor and that the rental-Camry 'should make it' ). It is remarkably quiet in the desert; a raven flies overhead cawing it disapproval of me as it flapped on by. I'd heard the jets fly overhead in Yellowstone last year but this was my first time I actually heard wings flapping...distinctly, languidly...nothing like the frenetic thrashing of a household pet....


Rolling back into town, my intrepid South American shipper, Martin calls....he's not due in till Sunday! Dinner is at Pho 1 where I slurp my soup with a couple of mexican families, a bunch of teenage orientals, a black couple and even a few honkies..... who'd figure the UN would convene in a Vietnamese noodle shop on a rainy night in Albuquerque?