Today we took the tram up Sandia Peak. It was spectacular. We played in the snow on top of the mountain, had some hot cocoa in the bar, and rode back down after sunset watching the lights of Albuquerque twinkle as the Rio Grande reflected the sunset. Its the longest tram in the world, yo!

Today we took the Rail Runner from Albuquerque up to Santa Fe. The thing is, this place is such a feast in every way, it is impossible to take it all in, or to convey what its like. While we were still home, my girl asked what we would be doing in New Mexico. She wanted to know if she had to worry about being bored. And one answer is yes, you will be bored. Visiting relatives is innately boring for children in a deeply dependable and comforting way. This is that. But what I told her back at home is also true and the kids are feeling it. When you are here, you are in a place so different and so special that just being here is an event. Grammie was trying to tell us what to look for as we road the train an hour through stunning high desert flanked by mountain chains on either horizon. I had to cut her off as an act of mercy. There is so much to see in the simple looking, its not helpful to think about what you're missing. What you're seeing is a feast. Everywhere you turn, feast feast feast. And its all just normal life here. We began with lunch at Tomasitas.  If you click over you'll hear the owner speaking God's Honest Truth. They serve the best red and green chili you can find. Feast feast FEAST!

Then we began walking around the Plaza. It only took about 4 minutes to pass an artist installing a piece in a window front. It was 1 degree here last night. So next I bought some shearling boots and wool socks and put them on my feet, possibly permanently.

Everything here is done well. Yes, its for tourists. But locals live here and they are living well. We were surrounded by locals, for the most part today. Its not tourist season right now. The people in the bookshop all live here. Imagine if this were your local book shop. We stopped for coffee, book browsing, and resting by this fire on generous warm linen couches.

I lived here in the late 1980s. So walking around was feast-full as well as sentimental. I used to live right down East Alameda, in the direction of that mountain you can see there, walking distance from this intersection. I saw shadow selves of me and my brother and sister all over these streets. We were so young, so clueless. It was so good then and its so good now. You can't hold any of it in a permanent way. You must understand you're missing it as you're living it. You can only feast.

On the train up we met an Opera singer named Dante who sang for us. On the way home, an auctioneer who cried for us. I didn't know it was called crying. I tried on a ring today in the Plaza. A translucent opal circled in tiny diamonds set in gold with no back. I studied lapidary when I lived here and I was pretty good at it too. A bunch of people in my family are metal smiths. I know jewelry. This was the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. It was magical, spectacular, a stone larger than a quarter that sat on your hand like shiny air, unbelievably subtle and striking at the same time, completely one of a kind and the man who made it was also selling it. Santa Fe is the sort of place you see such things. But these are trifling details. We exhausted ourselves just being happy stupid feasting tourists. Then we rode home. It was 16 degrees by 6:30 pm. There was frozen fog this morning and 22 inches of snow fell yesterday on the mountain tops behind Grammie's house, though not a single flake on us. We were cold, tired, almost hungry, and glad to let the train take us home.

Self Portrait 

The view from Grammie and Grandpa's driveway with clouds coming over the Sandia mountains.

 Grammie and Grandpa!

 Esse

 We saw a code talker sitting on the wall today, outside their headquarters. I hadn't known about this before. But in WWII the US government hired Navajo to send messages back and forth to each other, by way of confounding Japanese and German code breakers. It worked. Pretty cool.

 Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yes.

That New Mexican light, people! We crushed Oklahoma today---gorgeous driving, actually, with a soft fog the whole time. Texas was a welcome if brief homecoming. And tonight WE'RE EATING GREEN CHILI IN TUCUMCARI! Later we'll see what God meant when he invented stars.

When you begin to feel swamped by your fanny bottom, stuck and sitting, time to break out the emergency stockpile of road Zen. Travel is the destination. This isn't an interminable drag of road pain. We are having fun! We are driving, eating road food, and sleeping in hotels. What's not to love?

I packed ceramic coffee mugs and a box of peppermint tea. God bless me! Shitty coffee in a proper mug is 100% better than the same in Styrofoam. Because of the season, we have an unlimited supply of clementine tangerines (clems.) And fresh green and red chili awaits us in New Mexico. I contacted a farmer before we left home, packed my own glass jars, and we get to pick up fresh milk when we arrive. I'm excited about fresh cow milk--a treat we haven't had this year we've been milking goats. And I'm thrilled to visit a farm in N.M.  I'll meet a real out west cowgirl!

Last night we ate dinner at a steak house, "Big Jakes," in Van Buren Arkansas. After we ordered, I noticed an old man loitering at the penny pressing machine by the front door with his eye on my daughter. He wandered over, gave her a penny, and told us he was the owner. It seemed doubtful as something was clearly wrong with the guy. I put my arm around my girl. After he'd been at our table about 3 minutes longer than appropriate, a waitress arrived and hugged him saying, "We love James, he's so sweet." And so he is. And he also IS the owner, though strokes have robbed him of the ability to form linear sentences. He probably understands most language the same as all of us. But his ability to speak is compromised. Even so, he gave us a tour of the place, which he built, taking us up the elevator, showing off his signed Remington artwork, answering questions (from a cheat sheet he keeps in his wallet) about the Elk over the door, and was a super nice if rather sad figure. He also runs two hundred head of cattle, owns the abattoir, and supplies his own restaurant. I don't know of any such place on the east coast, hip locavores included. Out here in the middle of nowhere it isn't a culinary movement so much as good common sense.

There is a deeply troubling new phenomenon in skanky-upper crust-hotels. Its not a treatment for bedbugs, though it may be a cover of the treatment. They all spray Febreeze Linen & Sky, a special extra strong hotel version of the stuff some people (?!) spray in their homes. Which is done to give patrons that special "fresh clean feeling." It also took the lining out of my sinuses and I hate to think what else, possible brain damage from consistent exposure seems likely. We've circumvented this deeply troubling problem by down grading to the truly skanky hotels, which don't spray. As an added bonus, they cost about $20 less a night and the only noticeable difference are the tubs--plastic rather than porcelain. Hell, I'd shower in the parking lot with a cold hose in front of God and everyone else to avoid ever sleeping the in fresh clean toxic fog of febreezzle-funk. On the other hand, we can also thank bedbugs because very hotel in the United States now has brand new mattresses and pillows--upgraded and softer than my own.

Yesterday we drove past Mousetail Landing and through Bucksnort Tennessee. Today: Oklahoma! My daughter says I cuss more when I'm whispering to her dad. Can that be true?