I love photography, especially nature photography. One of my photos is a finalist in the Albuquerque BioPark's Photo Contest. You can vote for my photo on Facebook by clicking below and then clicking "Like." Thanks for your help and support.
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Cancer is cruel. Late last summer, as I helplessly watched chemo decimate my mother's body, mind and spirit, and in a desperate attempt to regain some control over the uncontrollable, I began playing FarmVille. Currently boasting over 63.8 million active monthly users, FarmVille is the most popular game on Facebook. As I grew my starter farm from 6 squares ("fields") of tillable soil to a whopping 484 squares (a portion of which is occupied by farm animals, trees, buildings and decorations), 
I found an escape from the agonizing, hopeless prospect of losing a parent to Stage 4 non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Instead of obsessing about Mother's intense pain and anxiety, extreme nausea and unthinkable suffering, I built my farm. I added cows, horses, and sheep. I planted a variety of crops and a lot of fast-growing strawberries, so I could "level up" faster. I watched my coins and "Farm cash" grow, and expanded my farm several times to maximize profitability. I found order in a world that was unpredictable and chaotic.
I am now halfway to Level 70, the highest level achievable in this game. I am not a hard-core gamer and have long viewed electronic games as a complete waste of time and brain power. There are no games in my home other than a few dusty board games, a deck of cards, and a cribbage board. I live in a Wii-less household. I spend most of my day at a computer writing code and creating graphics, so spending my leisure time staring at a monitor and forcing my blood pressure to spike is not my idea of fun. That is, until FarmVille, which I found relaxing and enjoyable. It stimulated my creative juices and replenished my resources. It helped me refocus and lifted my spirits during a season of gloom. There was no rise in blood pressure. I experienced only a sense of serenity as I grew my berries and tomatoes, picked them when ripe, and plowed my fields.
FarmVille is a game for non-gamers. In truth, most gamers would probably not understand the allure of FarmVille. The point of the game is to grow crops, tend animals, and harvest. We plow, we seed, we pick our grapes, collect maple sap, and pluck fruit from trees. We milk our cows and harvest eggs and swan feathers. This is a return to basics in the simplest form. I have always loved gardening and picking vegetables from my back yard for supper. I secretly yearn to keep hens and goats. FarmVille is an opportunity to be a lazy farmer. The most energy I exert is in clicking my mouse.
Zynga, the creator of FarmVille, keeps the game interesting by frequently introducing new seeds, animals, holiday-themed decorations and other (useless) "stuff" to place on one's farm. I recently purchased a crashed UFO to decorate my pumpkin patch and also added a crop circle. These items do not benefit my farm's bottom line and serve only to make me chuckle.
Mom is gone now, succumbing to a disease that devoured her body and destroyed her mind. Since she passed 9 days ago, I have wondered whether I should stop playing FarmVille. After all, I only started playing the game to keep me sane during a difficult time. As I considered abandoning my farm, I came to the disturbing realization that I'm fully invested in this game. That's the civilized way of saying I'm addicted to FarmVille, and as with all serious addictions, this one is worthy of an intervention. The mere fact that I have taken time away from FarmVille to write this is a good sign.
Lately, FarmVille is not relaxing. The more bells and whistles Zynga introduces, the more frenetic the game becomes. The occasional clickable bonus award that appeared on my Facebook Live Feed, with the promise of coins, has evolved into an urgent, ferocious seduction that demands my immediate attention every two minutes. Seize the turkey, or the turtle, or the lost kitten! Get your bonus coins, but do it within 2 seconds, else someone else will grab it! Snag a Mystery Egg! But if you don't do it quickly, you'll miss out! (If you delay, you're apt to be told, "Sorry, so-and-so's eggs have already been claimed." As a post-menopausal woman, I take this statement very personally.)
Last night I snagged almost 40 Mystery Eggs. I was afraid to leave my laptop to go to the bathroom. My mouse finger twitched uncontrollably. I'd hit rock bottom. I was in the FarmVille gutter, covered in turkey feathers and maple sap. For today, I am stepping away from Facebook and FarmVille. I doubt that my 130 farmer neighbors will notice my absence with all those Mystery Eggs and turkeys popping up on their feeds, but if they do, I hope they'll understand that I'm looking for a 12-step meeting, walking my neglected canines, visiting with my significant other, and taking the time to actually sit down and eat a meal.
After being held hostage by "The L Word" for six seasons, last Sunday's series finale left me feeling disappointed and somewhat annoyed. After committing countless Sunday nights to the Showtime series, I expected more. I wanted a reward for my unfailing devotion. I'm one of those people who needs closure. I'm not happy just walking away. I want to know who (or what) killed Jenny. I need to know what happens to characters who've spent a lot of time hanging out in my living room. I yearn for resolution - not a Sopranoesque ending that leaves me saying, "Huh?". Simply put, the finale didn't deliver.
When the credits rolled at the end with no answers offered, I couldn't believe what I was (or wasn't) seeing. The last episode seemed a clumsy wrap-up of a season of flashbacks leading up to the demise of Jenny, the character we loved to hate. From the repeated mentions of the unrepaired balcony railing to the implausible and weak Dylan/Helena break-up, the finale served to remind me that all six seasons of the show were not based in reality, but on a fantastical world where everyone is beautiful, rich and privileged. Our heroines did not drive beat up Toyotas and Nissans. Theirs was a world where everyone drives Bentleys, Lexuses, BMWs and Escalades. Even the one working class character, transgendered Moira/Max Sweeney, who landed on the scene in season 3, was eventually absorbed into this mythical existence of wealth and power, leaving all traces of blue-collar behind. This sci-fi queer utopia bore little resemblance to real life, but contained all the ingredients of an elaborate dream sequence.
To the show's credit, however, creator Ilene Chaiken and director Rose Troche delivered a groundbreaking series that brought queerdom into mainstream pop culture. The L Word tackled a plethora of social issues, including breast cancer and the military's "Don't ask, don't tell" policy. We were introduced to TV's first hearing-impaired lesbian, a transgendered man, bisexuals, drag queens and kings, gay parents, a biracially identified character, addictions galore, and sexual abuse.
Rumor has it a spinoff is in the works. "The Farm" will star L Word character Alice Pieszecki, who plays a prison inmate. Can we assume this has something to do with the death of Jenny? Did Alice kill crazy Jenny? Was she framed? There is also a fair amount of internet chatter about a movie, and possibly more spinoffs. The end of the L Word is, quite possibly, not an ending at all, but a springboard to further story lines.
In considering that we may be seeing more of Bette, Tina, Shane, Tasha, Helena and Alice, my ambivalence is palpable. At least we won't have to suffer the insanities of psycho Jenny anymore.
We made our own pizza tonight. It was a joint effort. Jim prepared the dough, Ginger ladeled the sauce on the crust, Marcia and I chopped the vegetables, and we all had a hand in arranging the cheese and toppings. It was truly a communal work of art!
Having made quite a few pizzas myself, I can attest to the challenge of working the dough into a circle. Most of my pies wind up looking like trapezoids with holes. Jim did a splendid job making a near-perfect circular crust.
Can you spot the green chiles on our pizza? (Clue: they are only on 1/3 of the pie.)
"Noche buena" means "good night," but in the Southwest, it means Christmas Eve. Back East, the really big holiday was Christmas Day, but here in Albuquerque it is most definitely Christmas Eve. Holiday traditions here in New Mexico are colorful, rich with history and memorable. Instead of keeping warm at home on Christmas Eve with family and friends, leaving the house briefly only to attend services, people in the Land of Enchantment hit the streets for the biggest festival of the year. Old Town Albuquerque is adorned with thousands of luminaria. In Santa Fe they're called farolitos. Either way, the brown papers bags holding sand and lit votive candles are beautiful. They line streets, sidewalks and rooftops, as well as ledges and walls. They are everywhere! My favorite part of Noche Buena, however, is the pungent, unmistakably sweet aroma of piñon smoke rising from kiva fireplaces throughout Old Town.
This was our third Noche Buena in Albuquerque. Our 2006 Old Town stroll was numbingly cold. Christmas Eve 2007 was not only cold, but windy. This year, however, we enjoyed perfect strolling weather, with temps above freezing, very little wind, and a reasonably clear night. After some spicy hor d'ouvres, tamales and cider, we took to the streets of Old Town where we explored streets, alleys, nooks and crannies. Later, we drove past a park a few blocks away where seven hot air balloons were tethered for a "balloon glow." I didn't have my camera, and this is not my photo, but here's what a hot air balloon glow looks like.
A traditional New Mexican Christmas Eve dinner for four followed the outdoor celebrations. We served posole - a hominy and pork stew with green chiles - very hot and spicy... 
and Ensalada Noche Buena - Christmas Eve salad (and yes, those are pomegranate seeds, along with beets, jicama, baby greens, queso fresca, golden raisins, oranges and pine nuts).
After this hearty meal, all of us were too full for dessert, but did manage to munch on a few bizcochitos while watching the classic 1951 B&W film Scrooge, starring Alistair Sim, released in 1951 as A Christmas Carol. I grew up with this movie and am happy to report that it lived up to expectations some 50 years later.
At 12:30 we called it a night. My brother and his wife left for their home across town, the dogs tucked themselves in for the night and, anticipating Santa's arrival, I fell into a deep sleep.
This morning, deep in the bowels of winter, the temperature is barely 20. Frost adorns windshields, snow glistens on the Sandias, and thick, menacing clouds hover at the summit. On this quiet, windless morning I hold a glimmer of hope that the day will warm to the low 30's. It will be our coldest day this season.
Christmas has come and gone, but we are still enjoying our small, festive tree, decorated with Southwest trinkets that accompany our more traditional ornaments collected over the years. Some of our glass ornaments dating back to World War II decorated holiday trees from my childhood. This year we discovered red and green chile pepper covers for our white lights in the Basket Store in Old Town. They are really quite beautiful!
It's been forever since I've written anything for this blog, in part because I've been very busy. More accurately, though, I've been remarkably uninspired these past few months. With so much on my emotional plate, there's been little time for reflection and writing. Now that life seems to be winding down and easing a bit, thoughts and feelings are beginning to spill into daily life. Work has served me well in distancing from the disappointments that were constant companions for many months. Still grieving a major loss, these smaller losses have seemed much bigger, collectively. And, as we all know, the holidays are amazing vehicles for emotional exaggeration.
I'm not a fan of New Year's resolutions, but I do think it's time to get back to writing. Buddha agrees. Stay tuned.
It was one of those days when I wished I'd stayed in bed. I was late leaving for my morning balloon chase, I turned right when I meant to turn left, I seemed to always be in the wrong lane for making a turn, I found myself in heavy traffic on streets I tried to avoid, and my morning shaped up to be one missed opportunity after another.
On the plus side of the equation, I did remember to bring fresh batteries, all my lenses, hot tea and a cheerful outlook, which made my silly mistakes more bearable. In spite of endless miscalculations, I still managed to find a few places to stop and snap some photos. The first two were taken through the open driver-side window while stopped in traffic.
It always makes me nervous when balloons fly so close to wires...
This balloon was especially colorful!
A smiley face balloon followed me for quite some time this morning. Every time I looked over my shoulder, there it was, grinning at me and serving as a reminder to smile, no matter how woeful things seem.
On my way home I came across a balloonist who had just hit the ground hard and was having trouble controlling her landing. The winds were kicking up, dragging the basket and envelope (the balloon itself) toward a barbed wire fence. I pulled over to help and discovered the pilot was someone I'd met last year. (See How To Launch A Balloon.) We averted a minor disaster and kept the balloon away from the fence. She was obviously unnerved by the whole thing and a tad cranky, which is no surprise. Hoping to soften the tension, I looked for the smiley balloon - already becoming a totem of sorts - but it was nowhere in sight.
All in all, it wasn't a bad morning, despite a rocky start. I've some preparations to make today for our very early morning journey to Balloon Fiesta Park tomorrow morning. At the top of the list is finding my gloves, thermals and winter coat. It's COLD at that hour of the day!
Hurricane Norbert, now a Category 3 cyclone, is taking aim at the Baja Peninsula. Computer models take this storm across Baja and into the Gulf of California, making a second landfall in Western Mexico, eventually tracking into New Mexico as, quite possibly, a tropical storm. Leaving Florida does not, evidently, preclude being in the Cone of Possibilities. If Wall Street and dirty politics aren't enough to completely disrupt my equilibrium, the threat of a tropical storm is.
I chased balloons today, which is quickly becoming a therapeutic exercise in forgetting global disturbances. Stocks are plummeting, presidential campaigns are in the gutter, but balloons are rising. 
On June 5, 1783, a crowd of people gathered to watch the first balloon, fashioned by the Montgolfier brothers, a pair of French paper makers, rise skyward. It was theorized that smoke would lift the balloon and carry it away. It worked, but no one realized it was heat that made it soar over the French countryside, not smoke. After several more test flights, the Montgolfier Brothers decided to send passengers aloft: a duck, a chicken, and a sheep. Then, on November 21 of the same year, physicist Jean-Francois Pilatre de Rozier and army major Marquis Francois d'Arlandes took flight in a Montgolfier balloon. The flight was seen by nearly all of Paris, including King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. After 25 magical minutes of flight, they landed safely outside Paris with much celebration.
I hit the road early this morning to watch the Mass Ascension from Balloon Fiesta Park. I managed to snap these photos from a parking lot on Paseo del Norte before my camera battery died. I really need to remember to bring ALL my lenses and a spare battery next time I chase balloons.
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