Men and the MRS GPS

Finalist in Aug/Sept '08 "America's Funniest Humor!" Writing Contest held by HumorPress.com

What do you get the man who has everything? It was my husband’s birthday last week and being the gadget guy that he is (aren’t they all?), I thought it was time he had his own Global Positioning System (GPS).

Men love GPS systems because it gives them a legitimate reason for not asking for directions from gas station attendants anymore. A GPS makes them self sufficient navigators and supposedly accurate in finding any point of interest anywhere in the world. So, I called my sister to see if her husband had a GPS.

“No, he doesn’t have one, but I have one in my car,” she tells me.

“You do?” I ask. “And how often do you use it?”

“I’ve never turned it on since I’ve owned the car,” she says.

Ah-ha! Another woman who doesn’t see the attraction in an on-demand map generator. If I wanted to find out how to get to a new place, I would simply go to the computer and print out the map. I thought I was so hi-tech and quite a step up from the “old fashioned” method of calling the store on the telephone and actually speaking to a live person, asking for directions and writing them down on paper with a #2 lead pencil.

Upon opening his gift, we all walked outside and stood in the middle of the street. Dan says “Look at that, it followed us down the driveway.”

As he and our daughters were fixated on the little animated car on the screen I couldn’t help feeling a little sarcastic. Not wanting to spoil the joy for the kids, I said “Ok, everyone look up to the sky and wave.” Caught up in all the technological excitement of the moment, they actually did it.

I don’t know if they expected the car on the screen to shake its tires and smile, but we continued on our walk as it instructed us. This was the same route we had taken almost every night in our neighborhood for the last three years. We could do it with out eyes closed. But of course, tonight we had to wait for the GPS to tell us which way to go if we ever wanted to see our humble abode again.

After my husband’s first day home from work with his new toy, he informed me “Lola” got mad at him.

“Who is Lola?” I ask.

“It’s my GPS, she is the voice who tells me where to turn, and when I don’t go where she tells me, she has to reroute her directions to accommodate my new route. That ticks her off,” he smirks.

Ticks HER off? Heaven forbid we tick Lola off. Hey, I’ve got a request. Can Lola pinpoint your dirty black socks around the house and show you the most direct route to the hamper? Let’s have her do THAT task, huh mister? Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Or should I say tap that on your touch screen and hit enter.

Speaking of upgrades, I wonder if he has found the spousal birthday/anniversary reminder feature yet. It goes something like this:

Wife’s birthday in two weeks. Review hint list. Birthday in one week. Purchase everything on hint list. Birthday tomorrow. Stop at Walgreens and get card. Don’t forget to get a card from the dog. Stop at bank for mad money to go inside card. Wrap all presents. Hang streamers. Pick up chocolate cake/white icing with pink roses she ordered. Kiss her gently on the cheek and tell her she doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.

I call it the MRS GPS.

Press Release - Local Writer Named Finalist in HumorPress.com contest

October 11, 2008

(RIO RANCHO, NM) Rio Rancho resident Jennifer Huard was named a Finalist in the most recent "America's Funniest Humor!" Writing Contest held by HumorPress.com.

For her accomplishment, Jennifer Huard has earned publication in HumorPress.com's online humor showcase. Her entry, "Men and The GPS," is about how a small portable navigation toy can become a man’s best friend. "Men and The GPS" will be featured on HumorPress.com through the end of November 2008, after which new results from the bi-monthly contest will be posted. Jennifer writes a weekly column for the Albuquerque Journal – Rio Rancho section every Thursday and recently wrote a feature article in Albuquerque the Magazine’s June 2008 issue.

# # #

For Immediate Release. Contact: Jennifer Huard (www.rightshadeofwow.com) at (505) 850-6555, or verify at www.HumorPress.com.

Threads

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho and Westside sections 01/10/09

I find people’s stories of their lives, their interests and the obstacles they have encountered so fascinating. Everyone weaves the threads of their lives into colorful tapestries as they grow. The tapestries eventually become interwoven with other people in their lives and pretty soon a community exists filled with very different people with one thing in common: Their city.

There is a new book out showcasing personal stories of Albuquerqueans – the 2009 Albuquerque Almanac. When one hears the word almanac, one might think of charts, tables, statistics and forecasts. The book is full of anecdotes written by well-known local writers like Bob Julyan and Mike Smith to the unknown from all walks of life including women behind bars, homemakers, aviation engineers and even newspaper columnists (yes, I have a story in the book). The backdrop may be Albuquerque, but the common thread running through the book is the intimate stories told by the author’s themselves: What brought them to the Duke City, what keeps them here, and why they wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

Amanda Gardner, editor and publisher put out the word last year asking for contributions to the first ever Albuquerque Almanac and what she got back was a treasure trove of stories on personal and local history. Not only is the almanac full of colorful narratives but poignant poetry as well. There is one story on Ernie Pyle, the WWII war correspondent from Albuquerque. Another story explains who Juan Tabo really was, and yet another highlights the best places to observe wildlife around the Duke City not to mention where to find the best burrito buggies and taco trucks in town.

"We're very excited by the publication of this book which we hope will be an annual event,” says Gardner. “The book acts as a date book/calendar showing annual events and places such as restaurants, animal rescue organizations, museums, coffee houses/tea shops, casinos, theatres, comic shops, libraries and sports facilities. We like to think the book and subsequent volumes will represent the "soul" of Duke City."

What I found fascinating about this book are the stories the authors felt important to tell. Like the story of the Barelas bell tower in Sacred Heart Catholic Church- constructed from two steel beams taken from the fallen World Trade Center. Or the light-hearted tale of how one author got to know the city while searching for her escaped parrot just hours after arriving in town. There is even a recipe for biscochitos, the native cookie. Who knew we even had a native cookie?

Like the stories in this book, the publishing company behind the book has an interesting tale of how it came to be. Gardner started Street Sweeper Press last year with funding from an unlikely source. “Street Sweeper Press is named for a brilliant man who came to a creative writing workshop I ran for nine years at a homeless shelter in Hoboken, NJ,” Gardner told me. “He had a small apartment but came to the shelter for company and for meals. He was a part-time street sweeper earning about $6,000 a year. Unbelievably, he had accumulated some savings which he left to me,” said Gardner. She honored this shy man by starting Street Sweeper Press and indirectly naming it after him. I mention this because I have always felt the back stories are the best threads to the tapestries.

The 2009 Albuquerque Almanac collectors’ edition is now available online at www.albuquerquealmanac.net and soon at various locations around town. If you missed the call for entries last year, don’t worry. Street Sweeper Press is now accepting contributions online for the 2010 Albuquerque Almanac, which promises to be even better. Not a writer? They still want to hear from you. Send in your quirky facts, favorite events, restaurants, things to do, places to go, you name it. Weave your thread into this important tapestry and let your colors show.

Quote of the Week: “My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue. An everlasting vision of the ever changing view.” – Carol King, Tapestry.

Ballooning - The Time of Your Life

As appeared in the 2009 Albuquerque Almanac

At the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta, hard core fans arrive the night before and are down on the field prior to daybreak the next morning anticipating the mass ascension just after sunrise. Everyone who is not at Fiesta Park is standing bleary-eyed in their backyards donning chenille bathrobes and fuzzy slippers with coffee cups firmly in hand in hopes that the winds will blow the cavalcade of gentle giants in their direction. If Mother Nature is on their side, they are the lucky ones, the chosen ones to a front row seat of a colorful spectacle of beauty and awe. But ask their dogs and I think the answer would be quite the opposite. We all know hot air balloons floating in an otherwise empty sky over the house are as unnerving to a dog as a long slithering centipede is to an unsuspecting eight year old little girl. Regardless of who is on the receiving end, Balloon Fiesta is one event to be put on your Things To Do Before I Die list.

The first year my family lived here, the winds blew the Fiesta balloons right over our house everyday of the nine day event. We didn’t realize how lucky we were at the time because not everyone is bequeathed that kind of up-close sky candy as we learned the following year when Mother Nature blew the balloons southward.

The special shaped balloon launch is one of the most popular events of the Fiesta. My daughters and I sat at home glued to the television watching and trying to identify each balloon as it slowly began to inflate on the field. As the pilots fired their propane burners and heated the air inside of the balloons, Humpty Dumpty, an 86-foot-tall Darth Vader, a 100-foot-long Noah's Ark complete with 28 animals, Smokey the Bear, a pink pig, a cow and a lighthouse were among the many special shaped balloons that slowly rose to attention and swayed back and forth as the immediate sky above the field became crowded with the buoyant colorful characters.

It was only a matter of minutes before we could see these gentle giants from our backyard as they hop scotched across the sky. “There is Airabelle the Creamland cow,” my nine year old daughter said in delight. The sky was filled with color; almost 700 balloons just hanging in the air like Christmas ornaments hanging on a tree. It truly is a breathtaking sight to see.

But nothing compares to being right up close to the action at balloon central, a.k.a. Balloon Fiesta Park. Upon arrival the following weekend we were informed the weather wasn’t cooperating and the balloons were not going to launch. Instead, a handful of die hard pilots were going to attempt a glow for the spectators. A glow is when the balloons inflate but do not launch into the wild blue yonder. Instead they stay on the ground and appear to glow when the pilots ignite the burner and the flame lights up the balloon from the inside. Towering higher than one would expect, people mingled on the field as the pilots and crew members stretched, pulled, held open, inflated and heated the air inside their balloons to make them rise bigger and grander than one could ever imagine. Cameras snapped away as one incredible Albuquerque sunset provided a perfect pink and salmon backdrop for the festivities that Saturday evening.

Inclement weather is always a risk at Balloon Fiesta and chances are there will be at least one or two events that get winded out. As we stood in line for our funnel cakes and mocha latttes we met a family who had come all the way from New Zealand. They said they had planned their trip for three years and it didn’t matter to them if the weather wasn’t cooperating, they were just happy to be a part of all the excitement.

That’s the spirit that built the west.

Please visit www.albuquerquealmanac.net to learn more about the Albuquerque Almanac and purchase a copy for yourself.

Can you say Poltergeist?

As appears in the Spring 2009 issue of New at Home magazine

For anyone new to an area, finding the right “anything” can be a harrowing experience. Start with the basic idea of getting a new home the fundamentals it requires, in particular window coverings.

When shopping around Albuquerque for window fashions, my search took me to every colorful corner of humanity. I knew what I wanted but did not know how to get it. A friend of my husband’s highly suggested one shades and blinds company that would come out to your house, measure your windows, show samples and recommend the best product for your home. Let me just state upfront “honeycombs” were out of the question. This northern New Mexico style humble abode screamed wooden blinds or my personal preference natural textured woven Roman shades.

The first salesman showed up in my driveway in his brightly painted van early one Saturday morning. He got right to work measuring all of my windows and recommended the “Desert Mist” honeycomb louvers. Honeycombs? Not in my house. A mascara-wearing man is usually a good sign when it comes to interior decorating, but one of the fab five he was not. This didn’t leave me with a positive feeling.

Next, I called an interior decorator after seeing her ad in the neighborhood paper. Great! Now I was getting somewhere. She came to my house dripping in fringe with her two Lassie dogs in tow. She was what I would call your flower-child hippie type with an abundance of creative flair. The Grace Slick of interior design told me to shop around for fabric I liked and she would whip together the most incredible valances for all my rooms. Grace forgot that A) I was new in town, B) I didn’t have time to shop around, and C) wasn’t that her job anyway? She sent me a bill for her services. What services?

My task was beginning to feel hopeless. I needed my hand held and I needed it now. It had been twelve weeks of living in a fish bowl full of clean water and I was getting closer to my breaking point of hanging Winnie the Pooh sheets in my dining room bay window.

I finally made an appointment with a company my builder had recommended four weeks prior. Upon opening my front door, this petite bundle of energy blew in and started asking all kinds of questions including did I like natural woven blinds and did I like the way my room felt.

I left her to her measuring but stopped dead in my tracks, mouth agape when I returned to the kitchen and saw she had turned my table and chairs at a forty-five degree angle and slid the whole set four inches toward the breakfast bar. I was in a scene right out of Poltergeist where the mother discovers all of her kitchen chairs are stacked on top of the table. Speechless as I was, Ms. Hunter Douglas could tell by the look on my face I didn’t want her to stop. It was only forty-five degrees but it was like looking at a whole new room. There is something to be said for Feng Shui.

She proceeded to rearrange my family room furniture next. I didn’t care what she was selling, I loved her. We went through every sample book she had discussing the features and benefits of each product. Two weeks later I wrote her a check for $4,000 worth of honeycomb blinds. Who says you can’t get what you want in Albuquerque.

Jennifer Huard is a freelance writer, graphic designer and website designer. She can be reached through her website www.rightshadeofwow.com.

2008 Corrales Harvest Festival Poster

I was so honored when my design was chosen as the official poster for the 2008 Corrales (NM) Harvest Festival. I signed my poster and sold them for two days at the festival's entry tent where I met many wonderful people and loyal readers of my weekly column in the Albuquerque Journal.

The event itself has many interesting booths including gorgeous custom jewelry, gifts, original paintings, music, fresh squeezed lemonade and delicious food! If you are in the Albuquerque area in September, be sure to put it on your calendar!

Is Your Refrigerator Running?

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal 02/28/09

Over time things come and go. Time marches on and sometimes doesn’t take with it all the wonderful things an era has to offer. Drive-in theaters are all but extinct save for a handful scattered across the country that are hanging on for nostalgia’s sake. Traditional Sunday chicken dinners at grandma’s are probably not with grandma anymore and the chicken may now be nachos and hot dogs from the snack bar at the movie theater; so much for tradition. And thanks to cell phones and caller ID, one of the secret pastimes of children everywhere is practically as obsolete as the rotary phone: The prank phone call.

Has anyone come to this realization that our children will not know the anxiety, excitement and exhilaration of dialing an unsuspecting neighbor and asking them if their refrigerator is running? Or calling the local drug store and asking if they have Prince Albert in a can? Or the corner market asking if they have fresh eggs? “If they get too fresh, smack ‘em! Ha, ha, ha, ha.”

I guess I shouldn’t say prank phone calling is gone completely; it has just been elevated to a new level. In pop culture, the prank call is generally done for the amusement of the pranksters themselves. And since kids nowadays have better things to do like play virtual tennis on their Wiis or non-stop texting to their friends, the art of the prank phone call has grown up with the ones who learned it as a child. These professional prank callers actually record their calls to share with their friends and post online for the amusement of all to hear. Performers and sometimes celebrities will compile their antics and produce albums to showcase their work. Their mothers must be so proud.

Prank phone calls are a favorite among comedians on morning radio shows and late night TV. There was even a television show called Crank Yankers on the Comedy Channel, a series of real-life prank calls made by celebrities and re-enacted on-screen by puppets for a humorous effect.

Even the long running animated series The Simpsons had a recurring gag involving Bart making prank calls to a local tavern. The calls usually followed a set pattern: Bart would ask for a person, the owner would shout loudly for that person and the bar would erupt in uproarious laughter. Why? Because of names like Seymour Butts, Ima Wiener, Maya Normusbutt and Al Kahalic.

Caller ID has seemed to curtail the traditional prank phone call, but all is not lost. My stealthy daughter recently informed me that all one has to do is dial “star 67” before the number you are calling and your number appears on the called ID as “private.”

Out of the old tradition, something called a reverse crank call was born. That is when a telemarketer calls your house, usually when you have just sat down to dinner, and proceeds to try and get you to buy their sales pitch and a time share in Boca. Turning the tables on them, people now reverse the crank and proceed to put the telemarketers on the spot by asking them unnerving questions and tie them up on the line as long as possible. A passive aggressive form of revenge no doubt.

The crank call sure has come a long way from the innocent days of fresh eggs and tobacco in a can. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a refrigerator I have to go catch.

Quote of the Week:
“Bart: Is Al there?
Moe: Al?
Bart: Yeah, Al. Last name Kahalic?
Moe: Hold on, I'll check. Phone call for Al... Al Coholic. Is there an Al Coholic here?
(The guys in the pub cheer.)
Moe: Wait a minute...” – The Simpsons

Part of the Family

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho/Westside sections 02/21/09

They had him since he was a baby and he knew his parents quite well. They introduced him to everything, just as anyone would a child. They took him on leaf walks, to the playground, to the zoo. Things progressed naturally but as the teen years approached things changed. Travis realized he was out of his element. He was not like the other kids. He was bigger, hairier and prone to emotional outbursts. Travis was a chimpanzee and was shot and killed last week in Connecticut when he did what normal chimpanzees do – have a wild animal moment.

Seen as a true member of his family, Travis might have preferred chili dogs and cold beer on TV trays while watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, not unlike most folks, but does that make it right to keep a chimp as a pet? Ok, maybe I made that part up, but does that paint a picture or what? People, let’s get real.

Sandra Herold of Stamford, Connecticut kept Travis as a pet for fifteen years, and when her husband died, she kept him for his company. Can you imagine, “Hey Trav, you wanna watch Wild Kingdom tonight, babe?”

It was said this celebrity primate who had appeared in various television commercials could bathe himself, log onto a computer to look at pictures, work the remote control, ate at the table and drank wine from a stemmed glass. He must have proven himself steady over the years to earn Herold’s trust with the good crystal or he would still be swirling the cabernet franc from jelly jars. He also brushed his teeth using a Water Pik, which is more than I can say for some men I have met. Still, a 200 pound chimpanzee sitting next to me on the sofa, and me enjoying his company, is hard to comprehend. Sure I love my pets, but they don’t wear Depends diapers and channel surf.

Maybe I exaggerate to make a point my friends, but what kind of people keep exotic animals as pets? What ever happened to goldfish? They say Travis was treated just like a member of the family, but what kind of family member was he? Could he clean the litter box and take the trash out? Do you see the absurdity in keeping an exotic animal for a pet? The policy statement by the NM Department of Game & Fish regarding exotic animals states, “It is unlawful for a person to possess non-domesticated felines, primates, crocodiles, alligators and wolves.”

There are places for wild animals who have been used for science experiments and circus acts and one happens to be right here in Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Save the Chimps is a permanent sanctuary for the lifelong care of chimpanzees rescued from research laboratories, entertainment and the pet trade. According to savethechimps.org website, Carole Noon, Ph.D. purchased the former Alamogordo biomedical laboratory - notorious for its inhumane treatment of animals in 2002 and with it came its 266 resident chimpanzees. She and her staff immediately began to modify the stark, depressing facility into a happier and healthier environment for the chimps. Eventually all of the chimps will be moved to their new digs at Noon’s chimp sanctuary in Fort Pierce, Florida.

Wild and domestic don’t mix. Sure you could take a human and drop him on a desert island with chimps, gators and parrots and he would learn to adjust to the lifestyle. But one day he may just say he’s had enough of the Gilligan’s Island lifestyle and mind-numbing conversation and flip out, build a raft and sail to the mainland and find the nearest Starbucks, leaving his undomesticated island family to wonder what the heck happened?

Quote of the Week: “Stay free, where no walls divide you. You're free as the roaring tide. So there's no need to hide.” – Born Free by Don Black

Car Wash

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal 02/14/09

The warmer weather earlier in the week left us longing for those warmer days of summer. It also made us take notice of how dirty the rain and snow has left our cars, not to mention the lone French fry I found in the back seat no doubt from 1999.

There are two kinds of people in the world: Those who wash their cars themselves and those who won’t. If you are the do-it-yourselfer, it breaks down further: Do you like to take your stack of quarters to the self-serve and use that big power wash wand? Or do you question why anyone would pay to wash their cars when they can get out the bottle of Palmolive, a bucket and put their thumb over the hose in their driveways?

One of the greatest adventures from early childhood was going to the car wash. I miss the kind where you actually get to sit in your car as it rolls through the different cycles. The kind that takes a full ten minutes; not the abbreviated drive-yourself-through types at the gas stations nowadays.

Our mom wouldn’t get the car washed unless she had a kid for every window. When she handed us each a rag on the way out the door, we knew where we were going. As she fed quarters into the machine under the “Not Responsible for Damage” sign at the entrance, she lined up the two front tires with the conveyor belts and we were good to go. The wash light flashed and bright pink suds spewed onto the windows and hood. Long commercial grade felt belts would sway back and forth, bending the antenna a little more every time as we thought for sure this would be the time it was going to snap off.

Once past the evil jaws of the felt monster, the rinse cycle rained down like a gentle summer shower. “Mom, turn on the windshield wipers. My door isn’t shut all the way. My window is leaking,” one or all three of us kids would shriek as the Country Squire wagon moved along at a snail’s pace as the inside sometimes seemed to get as wet as the outside. God love the seal on those American made cars of the 70s. “Are you sure you have it rolled up all the way? Hold that towel tighter,” she commanded. Heaven help the kid who sat solo in the back seat and had two windows to man.

The worst was when we had the dogs with us. I can’t recall why exactly Heidi and Simone were in tow, but a trip through the car wash was not one of their favorite rides. Was it torture on my mother’s part to get back at them for knocking the Raggedy Ann birthday cake off the counter and eating it before the party? Leaking windows, wailing dogs and a frantic mother – gosh, I miss those kinds of car washes.

Nowadays you can get more than a car wash at a car wash. In California, the land of “you are what you drive,” the car wash industry exists on a highly elevated level. Feeling a little tight? How about a massage while you wait for your Bimmer? Shoes need a shine, have a seat. How about a mocha latte and biscotti while you wait? So much for peanut butter crackers, fur steering wheel covers, greeting cards and pine tree air fresheners.

Personally, I prefer the Wonder (woman) Wash self-serve on NM528 to get my Jeep clean. The French fry is gone and I once again have a clean car. That is until the next trip to Sonic.

Quote of the Week: ““Well, those cars never seem to stop coming. Keep those rags and machines humming. Work my fingers to the bone. Can't wait till it's time to go home.” – Car Wash by Rose Royce

Tax Man

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho/Westside sections 02/07/09

It is that time of year again and everyone is starting to get a little testy. No, I am not talking about the winter blues. Heck, living in the land of enchantment with its mild winters it’s next to impossible to get the winter blues, well at least at the moment.

I am talking about tax season and there are many reminders floating around to let us know we are in full swing. So get out those number two pencils, erasers, calculators and cheat sheets and get to work.

In my graphic design business most of my projects throughout the year are of a contractual basis with many of my customers. I know it is tax season because my inbox has been filling up with clients’ requests for my federal tax ID number in order to fill out the 1099 forms on me. “Fill out your number-and-fax-it-back,” is all I’ve been hearing. I guess it’s a good thing, it shows I have been productive and that my clients are honest at their end. Except I can’t help but feel like we are all sitting in the back of Mrs. Henderson’s 5th period algebra class passing notes in a last ditch scramble to prepare for the final exam, the dreaded 1040A. Yes, the clock started on January first and pencils are to be put down at midnight on April fifteenth. Give me your answers; I’ll give you mine, hurry. We have to get all the answers right before time is up.

The annual 1040A “test” is an open book format, thank goodness. But be prepared and gather your resource information like that pile of mail marked with “Tax Documentation Enclosed” that has collected on your credenza since the first of the year. Some of us have tutors (accounts) who sit and quiz us to many of the questions the 1040A asks. “What is your name? How many children do you have? How many miles did you drive? I like the easy ones like that; it’s the math that gets me every time. Take one from column A and add to column B, then subtract line thirteen and with six you get egg roll.

Upon finishing, names are signed and pencils are put down and you can pretty much tell what kind of grade you are going to get right then and there. No waiting for Mrs. Henderson to enter it into her grade book with a red pen. Some of us jump for joy if ours is stamped REFUND, while others get out their checkbooks and wipe the tears in defeat.

There are those who don’t study, don’t read the Cliff’s Notes or in some cases don’t even bother to show up for the test yet seemingly get passing grades. These people are known as teacher’s pets or most recently nominations to the presidential Cabinet. Not that I want to get political, but it seems to be a pattern in our nation’s capital lately. First it was Tim Geitner, Secretary of Treasury who supposedly realized he hadn’t taken the 1040A test in awhile. Then came Nancy Killefer who was poised to be the first chief performance officer for the federal government but withdrew because she supposedly failed the domestic help section of the exam. And was Tom Daschle’s tax mess so innocent? I think some people missed the after-school reading groups at the library.

Yes, April 15th has such a notorious reputation. The day your taxes are due. The day President Lincoln was shot. The day the Titanic sank. And….the day I was born.

Quote of the Week: “Let me tell you how it will be. There's one for you, nineteen for me.” – Tax Man by the Beatles

Can I Drive?

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho/Westside sections 01/31/09

Child experts say it is important to make the most of the time you have with your children by taking opportunities wherever you can find them, including short car trips to the grocery store, mall or gas station? But what about when your oldest child is 15 and logging hours for her driver’s training score card and your 10 year old is along for the ride?

I know this is another one of those parental rite of passage stories where the ones who have gone before me are chuckling at the familiarity and the ones yet to experience are adding it to their list of angst-filled milestones to come.

As a parent of a child learning how to drive, at first you are excited to watch your adolescent back in and out of the garage ever so carefully. Then your anxiety level grows slightly as they move down the driveway and out onto the street. Your blood pressure adjusts to a new elevated level as they maneuver the traffic and stoplights on NM528 until finally you are forced to experience the heart stopping anxiety as they merge onto the southbound lanes of I-40 traffic at peak drive time. We carry a small vial of holy water in our car now.

Somehow teaching your own child how to drive a car brings back memories and the lessons your own parents taught you when the shoe was on the other foot. I remember one particular car trip telling my dad to run over a paper bag that was lying in the middle of the road. “Oh no, you never want to do that. You don’t know what is in it,” he corrected me. “It could be full of bricks,” he said pointing out the damage the car could incur. When he realized that reason didn’t get a rise out of us kids he added, “Or it could be full of kittens.” That remark elicited loud sympathetic squeals from the back seat and I in turn use the same story on my own daughter when I see her aim for an obstacle in the road.

“You make me nervous when you look out the back window, Mom,” says my anxious driver as she attempts to make a lane change. During our training trips as I call them, I do my best to remain calm and gently correct, offer suggestions and use my passenger side imaginary brake as little as possible, all the while getting mocked by the peanut gallery in the back seat.

Somehow getting behind the wheel instinctually makes the driver the DJ as well, but blaring Guns N’ Roses Sweet Child O’ Mine at 6:50 in the morning is just a little too much to take. Don’t call me old school though, I’m no softy. I remember cranking Won’t Get Fooled Again and Brown Sugar in my mother’s Chevy station wagon the very same way. Are my loafers and Levi’s showing? The conversation takes off on a music tangent and once again I am chastised for growing up with groups who called themselves ridiculous animal names like the Beatles, the Birds, the Turtles and the Monkees and take the reoccurring jab to my dated vocabulary from my ten year old, “I suppose you had their albums too, Grandma.”

Yes, car trips really are quality time spent with your children. They learn how backwards you were and you get to see the beautiful cycle repeating itself.

Quote of the Week: “Baby, you can drive my car. Yes I'm gonna be a star. Beep beep'm beep beep yeah.” – Drive My Car by The Beatles

Ghosts Dinner

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho/Westside sections 01/24/09

Take an old gas station, a great meal by candlelight, and a recitation of the local macabre and what do you get? A catered book reading by New Mexico’s favorite ghost story writer, Antonio Garcez at Art Gallery 66 in Bernalillo last Saturday night.

Art Gallery 66 is housed in an old adobe gas station on Route 66, circa 1914. Twenty-five guests were seated in what was originally a service bay for old jalopies, but is now a room beautifully adorned with original paintings, photographs, pottery and sculptures including works of art from Garcez himself. Yes, he is a writer as well as an artist.

Ghost Night Out, as the event was named, initially conjured up visions of people holding hands around a big round table staring at an Ouija board and humming, but it wasn’t that kind of gathering. Award winning author Garcez hosted a delightful evening of true ghost story telling regarding haunted locations throughout New Mexico, local ghost sightings and actual encounters.

As we finished our dinners, Antonio walked to the front of the room and turned off the music to begin reading the first story from his Ghost Stories of New Mexico book. As he sat down and adjusted his glasses, the music started up again. “I thought I turned the music off,” Antonio said in a somewhat bemused way. Not missing a beat I said “You did,” acknowledging the proverbial elephant in the middle of the room which resulted in a confirming chuckle from the crowd. If we were there for ghost encounters, I wasn’t about to shy away from pointing out the first one of the evening.

After the first story, we were asked to go around the room and state our names and a simple “yes” or “no” to the question “do you believe in ghosts?” Surprisingly, there were a few people in the audience who answered in the negative, probably spouses who were promised a great meal if they agreed to provide safe passage to this eerie event. Little did they know spirits love to tease the non-believers the most. I would love to know how many of them encountered an inexplicable swarm of butterflies or a strong scent of oranges on the drive home that night.

Reading from his books, Garcez reminded us all the stories “have not been handed down from generation to generation but are first hand accounts of spiritual encounters.” He also told us of some haunted locations in New Mexico he knew of in case we wanted to spend a weekend with other world. The hot spots included Taos Pueblo’s sacred Blue Lake, the historically rich St. James hotel in Cimarron, NM, and even just up the road in Bernalillo.

Garcez then asked the audience if anyone had a ghost story of their own to share-this was what I was waiting for, to hear from regular people, unpublished mortals and their tales of the afterlife. Only one woman dared share her personal sighting, which was a good one by the way. After the dinner more people opened up with their stories amongst their intimates, no doubt safer from the rolling eyes of the skeptics-at-large.

It was such a fun night full of beautiful art, light-hearted fun and the all important chocolate cake (not devils-food) for dessert. Garcez promises more events are in the works and on a much bigger scale, which is good news for all of us.

Quote of the Week: “I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks. I do. I do. I do. I do believe in spooks.” – Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz