We have returned from Santa Fe no worse for the wear. Ellen and Reid will read all about it in the next couple of days as it is a substantial part of the letter to them to be mailed later today. Here’s hoping the note arrives at Reid’s place before he hops a jet to India for a couple of weeks of international adventure.
I’m no travel writer by any stretch, but Santa Fe is a worthwhile place for a long weekend if you like turquoise and mountains, good food and good drink (all of which we consumed in quantity). Felicia and I did the touristy things that out-of-staters are expected to do but we managed to push the envelope in a couple of other interesting ways related to the outdoor life.
Last week’s letter to Ellen and Reid, however, is far removed from travel. It touched a lot of different bases closer to home.
Here is that letter.
February 6, 2012
Ellen/Reid: By this time next week we’ll have been to Santa Fe and back. Looking forward to it. Why someone would opt to go to a winter destination in the winter is a failing on my part. If we were skiers it would be one thing but we’re not. It’ll be okay I guess. There’s something to getting on the plane and into your seat and simply getting out of town that is good. My camera is on the fritz so don’t expect too many photos. Maybe a cell phone pic now and then. Reid, we still need your itinerary.
You can’t believe all the GOP vitriol that is going on down here. Honestly, and it can’t be stated any other way, they have become the party of hatred and intolerance. I’m fine with job growth and green business and the like and might even be tempted to vote for a Republican now and again who even half way engaged in civil discourse, but holy smokes if you could read the paper down here (as for watching Fox Faux News, no) you’d see the tonal quality of the right wing is darn near nuclear. I’m half intent on writing something to the Observer to the effect that 1) bin Laden is dead, 2) unemployment has fallen to 8+%, 3) we’re out of Iraq (a tragically goofy war to start with), 4) 64% of manufacturers report adding workers, 5) housing is beginning tepid upward movement and 6) foreign oil imports are down. I just don’t get this utter hatred on the part of zealots. How the Republicans have members among anyone in the middle class is just beyond me. Maybe Newt is onto something with his idea of colonizing the moon and usurping it as the 51st state. The problem is it won’t start soon enough. If we could speed that up, we could ship those folks up there. But that would be akin to that old joke about attorneys: what do you call 5,000 lawyers at the bottom of the sea? A good start.
Felicia spotted a coyote behind the house yesterday while I was on my way to Caldwell. I wish I could’ve seen it. Maybe it dined on one of the several feral cats that prey on the birds that a bunch of the neighbors and I are trying to feed. People are upset down here that coyotes are poaching their cats and little dogs. Solution: keep your *&%(# cats and what passes for mini-dogs inside the house. Coyotes eat what is available. The blue birds are out back this morning scoping out the nesting box, and the chickadees are in an uproar about it. My money is on the chickadees muscling the bigger blue birds out of the way (just like they did last year).
Number 62 occurs on Wednesday. Just another day on the calendar, in my view. Age is nothing more than an arbitrary number and will be so again this year. Sure, the return image is skewed a little bit when I look in the mirror, but I will still flaunt it by golfing and riding the Harley and taking walks and fly fishing and just doing things. Your uncle doesn’t seem overly upset about it although we have been prone to talking about when to take Social Security, etc. There are a couple of bones I’ll toss toward age. A little memory juice wouldn’t be such a bad thing. The other thing I have to owe up to is getting a pair, or two, of full time glasses. My vision is going to hell. I just can’t seem to distinguish things as well as even a year or two ago. Maybe that’s what stops me from seeing the handwriting on the wall. That’s a joke, too.
I went to a book writer’s seminar last week and found it enlightening. Enlightening as in I have no clue how to get started let alone finding a publisher or marketing the thing. I have yet to come across a writer who doesn’t think their topic isn’t the best thing since sliced bread or bottled water. One of the two speakers encouraged us to take a hard, dispassionate look at the market for our manuscripts. If we can’t forthrightly admit that the potential pool of buyers isn’t oceanic (my term), then perhaps we should just self-publish a few copies for family and friends. There’s something to that. If you have thoughts on that, I’m all ears.