What I Know and What I Want to Know about New Mexico

Having now lived in our new state for a bit more than three weeks I can report that we are in love.

We are in a word, enchanted.

We are bowled over with joy at the food, the landscapes, and the gracious people of so many ethnic backgrounds.

We have become Las Cruceans!

We traverse the roadways like veterans, now picking our routes to avoid the heavy traffic areas and learning the local secret hole-in-the-wall eateries that have the best food.

So, here is a list of what I have learned, and then a list of things that I don’t yet get, and want to know. That’s where you come in. If you know the answer, then do tell.

I KNOW:

• The state motto is “land of enchantment” and nothing could be truer. From barely ten miles inside the border, the landscape delights with variety and vision. I have visited in Sante Fe which is awe-inspiring from its adobe and old-world churches, to Gallup and its native jewelry sellers at your restaurant table. I have witnessed the continental divide, and traversed the mountains. I have seen the mounds of gypsum at White Sands, and the Rio Grande, the mesas at El Morro and the foot hills of the Doña Anas. I have so much more to see, the balloon races at Albuquerque, the Las Cruces Big Enchilada Festival, the work of the artists at Taos. It is a land of enchantment.
• There are few bugs in the state as far as I can see. If you have ever sat outside and looked down,  in most any place, you see a world of its own going on at your feet. Not here. I have seen a couple of flies and a couple of moths, and one minute creature the size of a flea skipping along the sidewalk. Why this is so I have no clue, since bugs are undoubtedly the hardiest of creatures.
• Most Hispanics are bilingual and most Anglos are not. This is a fault of the Anglos. I hope to improve my Spanish skills in the coming weeks and months, and while I’ll never speak as a native, I hope to at least give honor to the folks who make up nearly half of the population here and have had such an important part in the history of this state and region.
• It is incomprehensible given the vast array of eating establishments in this state devoted to Mexican/New Mexican cuisine, but Taco Bell actually has the cahones to have stores here. Why is impossible to know. There are far, far fewer McDonald’s, Burger Kings and no Wendy’s that I’ve seen. They know they can’t compete against the great burger joints that pepper Las Cruces at least. Kudos to Lotaburger and Whataburger for keeping us sated in our motel odyssey.
• Nothing says New Mexico like chiles. We are the capital of hot! Everything tastes better with chiles in it, and every burger joint in town offers sliced jalapeños or green chile sauce as a burger topping. Even egg rolls comes in the “green chile” variety. And the state phrase as I said, is “green or red?” Both are amazing, and one slips back and forth from one to the other. Salsas come in myriad forms, and I can’t wait to get back to the kitchen to duplicate a few new one’s I’ve discovered.
• Nothing is better on Saturday than the Farmer’s Market in old downtown Las  Cruces. Filled with fresh veggies from the local farmers to vendors of every artistic bent, you get two long blocks of exciting sights, smells, and conversation. There is everything from farm fresh eggs, to Mesquite honey, to jewelry, to hand-made walking sticks. You can even get a psychic massage whatever that might be.

WHAT I DON’T KNOW

• Why there are no bugs?
• Why almost every neighborhood has houses separated by walls, stone or cement in the more working-class areas. Is this just the ancient way of separation given the lack of wood and before the advent of wire fencing?
• Given that the state is overwhelmingly Roman Catholic, why are all the Catholic churches in Las Cruces newer constructions that are mostly dull and uninspiring? I expected to locate beautiful old churches with loads of tradition, and I find almost nothing like that. The diocese of Las Cruces has a “cathedral” that is anything but. Not a vaulted ceiling to be found. No ancient alters, no beloved icons of our Lady of Guadalupe.
• Why anyone would want to live anywhere else? Oh that was just a joke. I only half-way mean it.

Enjoy your day.

 

The Housing Saga, Part. . .Infinity

Oh what tangled webs we weave.

I big thanks to comments that helped me understand the reasoning why banks are loath to get rid of houses they have foreclosed on.

Today our realtor stopped by and gave us a number of options. None was great. Our second choice with the great view is also a short sale, so we gain nothing by withdrawing the offer and starting again with this house. And our third and fourth choices are too far down the line to be anything but a disappointment if we chose them at this point.

On the upside, the realtor handling the short sale, says she has assurances that we will get this house, but the paperwork is simply winding its way through the machine of bureaucratic crap that one always expects. 

Our offer is in a place called “quality control” whatever that means. It is expected to get a provisional acceptance mid-week of next. It has been sent to HUD, why I am not sure, and two lines in the contract must be changed of no consequence to comply with the myriad of federal rules regarding short sales. 

Whatever.

We have told our realtor to start looking for new possibilities, raising our price a bit, and not including any short sale homes. If one comes along that is better, we will jump all over it,  otherwise we will trust that this will come through, since there is no reason on earth why it shouldn’t. We have no mortgage issues.

So that is where it sits now. We are now expecting that we could close late next week or early the following. But of course, with a bank who knows. The short sale realtor has been motivated to pressure the bank or lose a sale. Our realtor wants to sell us any house we want, so she has no reason to push this house and fudge on the probabilities. So we feel that we are making the right decision now.

Having reviewed the entire situation, we remain desirous for many reasons to get this particular house or at least one of comparable quality. We don’t want to accept less. We are getting a rather hefty price break off the initial asking price, so we don’t want to lose such a great house.

The seller is stationed in Afghanistan and has signed everything and wants very much to sell.

The house above is not the house, but is somewhat similar. The eco-friendly landscaping would be accurate, especially. The house is stuccoed as most are here, rather than the more expensive (I presume) adobe.

I shall keep you updated.

I know, be still your hearts, the excitement is showing!

Have a great Memorial Day.

I’ll probably write something if I can come up with anything worthy of note.

Now I Get It

Recognize ‘em?

You should.

Just your friendly banker.

Once upon a time we thought bankers were pretty smart cookies. They protected our money. They kept our special things safe in tiny boxes.

They were good guys.

Now we know different.

It’s not entirely their fault actually.

They don’t go to regular universities and colleges to learn how to count and so forth.

They go to CLOWN SCHOOL. Which means they are very good with seltzer water and paper flowers, but your money? Honey, better to stick it under the mattress where it can be safe.

Now, this is not new news I grant you. But after the fiasco of 2008, we hoped they might have learned something. At least we hoped they would learn what they did not know. Which was quite a lot.

But alas, such is not the case.

I should have known that I was operating in dangerous waters when my local bank in Iowa had not the intelligence when informed of our move and how we were going to deal with our accounts, that we needed to sign papers there BEFORE WE LEFT. No, we were told no such thing, and I did speak directly to the bank manager. So we managed to end-around that snafu, mostly because they were somewhat emBARE-ASSED when they realized their inadequacy.

Then I saw the stupid behavior of JP Morgan who got caught with their weenies and tatas showing, having gambled away something to the tune of 3 BILLIONS of their monies on derivatives trading. I shoulda known I would be better off dealing with a pet shop for advice and care of my dough.

And then there is JP Morgan and it’s frackin’ up of the Facebook offering. And the ensuing investigations which always result in NOBODY ever going to the hoosegow.

We made an offer on a house that was offered as a short sale. What this means is the “owner” is under water, and has been GIVEN PERMISSION by the bank in question to sell the house short of the mortgage still due. It’s all fine for the buyer, because the owner and bank work out their own arrangements as to how much if any of the balance the owner will be held liable for. The buyer gets a full clean title.

We negotiated the offer with the real estate agent offering the short sale, and she was sure it was fine, since the bank had already certified a sale price as acceptable. We just had to wait extra long because banks like to play with paper and send it to the North Pole, spin it around the Horn of Plenty, and drop it out of the Leaning Tower of Pisa before signing on the dotted line.

Today was their due date.

NO ANSWER is forthcoming.

They are getting what they asked for, but they don’t seem to want to complete the deal, which we are told is par for the course with banks these days. Perhaps they are waiting for the voodoo doll to arrive from Jamaica first. In any case, we are not stupid enough to give them any more time, so we are cancelling our offer as of noon tomorrow.

If there are no new listings, we will make an offer on a second house, that we agonized over before deciding against it, even though it has the view to die for. The mountains in all their splendor. And the landscaping is newly done, and the house is only about 100 square feet smaller. So we aren’t giving up much and we will pay a good deal less. It’s still available as of today, so we are hopeful. It’s been on the market for nearly a year now, so they are primed to accept a decent offer.

Which is all to say, that dang, watch out for banks. We opened up an account with a credit union here. We got that smart at least.

I don’t know why bankers have become dumber than rocks. But apparently they have.

I apologize to rocks. You are beautiful and remind us of just how long time is.

Life is not a bowl of cherries, nor apricots for that matter.

Having Fun?

That’s me. Still waiting. Technically, I think we are supposed to get an answer either tomorrow or Friday. It cannot come too soon. It cannot.

We have shopped most everything we can think of. Sofas and chairs, dining room, beds, bookcases, end tables, desks, blah blah blah. I’ve even found unfinished kitchen cabinets I can place at the ends of a wall and drop a laminated top over at a reasonable price to set up my craft room.

Trouble is, I’m working to furnish a house we don’t yet have, and have no assurance we will get it. We do have a backup house which has its own specialness and was my first choice at one time. It’s got the view to die for. But of course if we are forced to that, it’s another couple weeks delay.

Did I mention that we are sick and tired of living in a motel?

Just wanted to mention that.

Other stuff is going well. We go to the post office to pick up our mail. We have a bank, although our debit cards are not yet in. We have successfully transferred the Contrarian’s VA stuff to the local out-patient office here, and he has his yearly appointment set up already. One must be happy about small victories I guess.

New Mexico gifted us with colds. I got mine first, and am nearly over with it. The Contrarian is in his third day and is mighty grumpy indeed.

It is in the mid to high 90′s here each day, although I hear that the rest of the country is also experiencing rather abnormally high temps for May. But that has nothing to do with global warming of course. Course not.

Did I mention that I am tired of living in a motel?

It’s awful when you refer to a motel room as “home.”

We had a good view of the solar eclipse, sort of. I went to the farmer’s market which was grand and learned that the NMSU was having a thing at the mall with the opportunity to look through their solar telescope and viewing glasses for a buck. We went. We got their 50 minutes before the eclipse was scheduled to start. The line to look through the solar telescope was already about 200 long and the glasses had already sold out. No point in staying any longer for that.

We are traveling around like we have lived her most all our lives. We now are discovering the “easier” way to get from A to B, avoiding some of the busier intersections. I lived in Cedar Rapids for 12 years and could get lost in that town simply by turning down any foreign street. I can’t explain it.

I never felt properly oriented in that state. I can’t explain that either. I often felt I was going north when I was traveling west. The Contrarian thinks that’s funny. He wonders if I need a compass. Or if I can read one.

I can, have so owned, and so there. And I never have had issues with location before.

I was allergic to Iowa and I think it made my brain work poorly. I think my brain is oriented to true north and I think Iowa is a deep sink hole electromagnetically speaking. Truly I do.

Anyway, that is where it all stands today.

The Contrarian claims that New Mexico is high in sheep production. There is nary a piece of lamb to be found in any store here that I have been in so far. None in Iowa. I don’t get that. I could always get it in Michigan and Connecticut. What goes? Anyone know? Pipe up and explain it please.

We had A fly in the room for 2 days. It must have died, or gotten out. I’m quite sure it was sleeping in our luggage and came from Iowa. It has a lone fly home.

Oh, it’s about time to start thinking of what to go pick up for lunch. Mmmmm, love eating like this I can tell ya.

More later. Pray that that damn answer is yes!

Tootles.

Mitt-Wit’s Bain Problem

Although our boy Willard avoids Mormon faith like the bubonic plague, I’m pretty sure that lying is still a sin in the “Mormon bible. And by every account I’ve come across, Mitty takes his faith seriously.

But apparently he doesn’t take it THAT seriously. Just serious enough to attempt to placate the religious masses with things like claiming that the US Constitution was “probably inspired,” and other self-serving chatter like that.

Willard has a case of the lying when it comes to just about anything that he thinks will  work to get him elected president of these here United States  of Merika. And what he lies most about is how he’s this wonderfully brilliant economic business genius.

And then he assures us that once at helm of the ship of state, he will fix all our financial woes. Of course President Obama doesn’t believe in free enterprise at all according to  Mitt-Wit, he hates it in fact. On the other hand, Bain CEO the Mitt-meister, knows that business is just a case of strong-willed smart men willing to bet their fortunes on business schemes that, should they fail, will leave them paupers. That’s the difference between them and us–guts. We prefer to stay attached to our safe and boring little pencil-pushin’, lathe-operatin’ jobs for that “steady” paycheck, while brave souls like Mitty risk it all on their business acumen.

Naw, not really.

Actually they have scammed the game of free enterprise so that it never goes tilt.

Bain doesn’t go into a failing business, pour tons of cash in, restructure and so for and then sit and hope for the best. Far from it.

Basically what Bain does it access the money on hand of the company in question, take half of it, assess another quarter of the remainder for “professional expenses” and then restructure what is left and “hope for the best.” If it works, well that is nice. If it doesn’t, well, Bain has it’s profit, and the company is sold off in bits and pieces, Bain taking the bulk no doubt for its expenses, and paying off creditors if  there is anything left.

This is what, in my opinion the Obama team is missing. They keep attacking Bain as if it is careless of the companies it takes on to “fix”, and even callous about the workers there. It is not. It’s just that they rig the game to win regardless. That’s not capitalism. That’s a scam, that it seems to me, leaves the crippled company in greater danger of going under than it would have if it had simply hired a new team to run things,  and paid them the normal salary.

In today’s game of high-stakes venture capitalism, true capitalism is not being played. The playing field is anything but level. The rich have structured it so that succeed or fail, the rich get paid no matter what. It’s the way the CEO business is played these days–you don’t have to show a profit as CEO–your golden parachute is there cushion your fall regardless.

This is what Mitt-face is promoting–a corporatocracy where the “right” people control the wealth , establish what you “need” in salary, and maintain a stable workforce, one that has little or no recourse, except another job which is basically the same.

The Obama team needs to attack the very premise that what Romney and company do, remotely resembles free enterprise.

Related articles

• As Obama Team Releases New Bain Attack, Cory Booker Walks Back ‘Nauseating’ Critique: VIDEO (towleroad.com)
• The Reason Why Bain is important. (3chicspolitico.com)
• Obama Campaign Ad: The Story of Bain Capital and Ampad (littlegreenfootballs.com)
• Mitt Romney’s Bain Capital took $20 profit for every dollar invested in Ampad. Creditors got {title}.002. (dailykos.com)

Attention K-Mart Shoppers: Screw YOU

It started off innocently enough.

We were headed to the University Museum to soak up a bit of local culture and then off to a Chinese restaurant to scarf some much-needed General Tso’s chicken.  A delightful and enjoyable day no?

Oh, not quite Skippy, not quite. Had I shuffled through my Tarot cards, undoubtedly, it would have warned me.

We arrived at the museum with no trouble, but then the trouble began. Where to park. It seems that all parking is reserved for “staff and faculty” even those lots that abut the museums. After asking any number of students/faculty, we learned that a whopping six spots are reserved for “visitors”.

But the fun was only beginning. Upon arrival, with temps in the high 90′s,  we walked the nearly half block to the “information” gal who must spend most of her time studying, given the lack of human contact. I was asked to provide my name in writing, my phone number, my car’s license number and the names of all my first cousins. After this I received a “pass”; I was required to walk back the half block and attach same to the rearview  mirror to prevent our car being towed as some interloper and possible terrorist threat.

The museum consisted of some two rooms which with superior attention only could take a person an hour to view. And then of course, one must retrieve the “pass”. All told I spent more time walking back and forth from my car than I spent with the old pictures of downtown Las Cruces and the stick used to push holes in the ground to plant seeds.

On to the Chinese restaurant I has espied from afar as I was searching for a non-existent furniture store a few days ago. Turn left at the Japanese sushi restaurant, and drive straight back to the building entitled “Dynasty”.  Except that as we approached, it became obvious that said restaurant had been closed for some time. Which would have been no big deal, except that it was the second time in two days that I  had spied a restaurant from afar, only to find out that it was closed.

But what is this?

A K-Mart!

We were in the market for sunglasses. The brightness of the sun here is not to be believed, so some good and big glasses were in order.

I volunteered to go in.

Let there be no doubt of what K-Mart I speak.

It’s on El Paseo between Idaho and W. Lohman. On the west side of the road. Don’t ever go there. Ever. Ever. Ever.

I ran in, and quickly located the sunglasses. I got two pair, and went to the checkout.

Hmmm.

Only one register is open, par for the course in most stores of this type. The other so-called check out lanes are merely cardboard cuts -outs set up to impress you with their customer “service.”  I am 5th in line and there are six people behind me. It is going to take some time.

“Do you have a K-Mart value card?”

“Do you have your discount dollars?”

“Have you started your period, had hot flashes, experiencing an enlarged prostate?”

No or yes, it matters not.

“You just saved $1.23 on that item, or would have if you had brought your last tax return with you.”

I purchase my items and skip across the nearly liquid parking lot.

“Do they fit?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” the Contrarian smiled half-heartedly as the rims did not cover the frame of his spectacles.

Back into the hellfire I go.

I go up to the customer service which should have been named “Place where we will screw with you until you kill yourself”, and gasp out, “I just bought these and I need a larger size of one pair, same price!”

She smiles, nods, that I can leave it there and retrieve the appropriate size.

I do.

I am back in whatever can be categorized as a split second for a 62-year-old-woman.

I smile broadly and show her. “just change one for the other.”

“You’ll have to wait until I finish with this customer, please.”

This should have echoed through time, filled with cackling of a million witches. Time stood still.

This “customer” was Satan himself. A return artist, whose entire transaction was being voided, and somehow he was to receive some fourteen buckeroos in return. Trouble is . . . .

NO ONE IN THE FREAKIN’ STORE KNEW HOW TO DO IT.

The lady running the register didn’t know how. Soon she was begging for “ANY” store manager to come up and help.

Finally a harried, sweating man waddled forth and gave her instructions. She tapped the keyboard, she scanned the receipts. The machine stubbornly refused to open its draw of money.

After ten minutes, the machine was  still running the show, and the manager had retreated.

Come forth super manager, she with swagger and long nails approached the machine with assurance.

Clickity, clickity she tapped away, scanning with laser-speed, and twisting and thumbing. The machine laughed.

Much whispering of a conspiratorial nature ensued, a hammer was mentioned, human sacrifice was contemplated, and all manner of cheating and lying were used to defeat the register.

After a full 20 minutes, and  a standing crowd of nearly 1,000, the register finally opened. All Willie the Wank Machine needed was a new piece of chewing gum, and he opened his maw to disgorge  his green delights.

I completed my transaction, and swam to the car.

“Try them on,” I said as I stood ready to bend his frames into submission., if not his head.

“They work just fine, dear,” he squeaked.

“Good, lets look for some place to eat, preferably not Chinese!”

Lovin’ Las Cruces and It’s Wacky Ways

We’ve been here in Las Cruces for two weeks now, and I’ve learned a lot. And what I learn, you learn, that’s just the way it is.

First, humidity matters.

I knew that.

You knew that.

Now I really, really know that. I mean I know that experientially. And to know a thing I experientially is to KNOW a thing.  Shall  I continue? . . . . I figured you’d say that.

Anyways, the air is cleaner, and the sunlight brighter. Sunglasses are a must, and I’m about to invest in some of those old people  sunglasses that slip on over your regular glasses. But they do block out all that light. I now know why Georgia O’Keefe moved here–well Sante Fe/Taos actually. (There is an art museum devoted to her work in Sante Fe.)

It’s hot here, in the mid to high nineties this week, but you don’t sweat, so it doesn’t feel as hot. The mornings are delicious however, being cool and dry, perfect for long walks in the foothills. Did I mention that our house sits just 3 lots up from the foothills of the Organ Mountains? The house we haven’t yet got of course.

To the Northwest are the Doña Ana Mountains, which are more rounded yet an impressive range. There is also a singular mountain called Picachu I believe. There are also the Robledo’s, but I’m not sure which ones they are yet. Skies are either clear or with light clouds.

People here get positively apoplectic when it rains. Annual rainfall is 9 inches and that was not met last year, so they fairly dance when it does rain. Last winter it got very cold–like -9 for three days (virtually unheard of here) and it damaged a lot of the plants. Some of the plants died, and some of the palms are just now coming back.

As you may have heard, New Mexico has always been tied with reports of alien visitation. I’ve always viewed such reports with a healthy dose of skepticism as you might expect, but now I have real evidence.

Real evidence that they have visited. They may still be here. If the are, they patrol the borders.

There are no bugs here, none, NADA, nary an ant. Aliens eat bugs, that is a well-known fact. The enlarge their favorite food by injecting it with some alien growth factor and they got enormous. This was reported in a number of documentaries made in the1950′s in black and white, and starring a number of less-than-B-grade actors who attacked them with military hardware to indicate their danger.

Apparently the aliens ran out of the growth factor, and were reduced to eating all the bugs they could find locally. They have swept the state clean, and are catching all bugs trying to cross into the state. Better than an Orkin Man.

 Sand burrs travel. I bet you were unaware. They travel from Iowa to New Mexico in droves. Our proposed new back yard is full of them. They stick to your shoes. They call them something silly here, like lamb heads or something. But they are sand burrs. I wrote about this some time ago, but I’m way way to lazy to try to find that post.

We are headed off to University today to go to their museum.

We are finding our way around Las Cruces quite nicely. We feel pretty much old hat now. It is a sanely structured place, and that’s all I ask of a city.

People slip in and out of languages here with ease. The checkout clerk is busily engaged in Spanish with the woman in front of me, and then turns to me and smiles, “good morning, did you find everything?”  I’m at least able to pronounce things reasonably well, the Contrarian needs a sign around his neck advising that he is a deaf-mute. He wrecks the language. It is a horrid thing.

Did I mention that food is wild? There is New Mexican cuisine, there is Tex-Mex, there is Mexican, and there is Taco Bell, which is a bad dream created to let middle America think that it eats “Mexican”. For the most part neither New Mexican nor Mexican thinks that sour cream is a condiment that belongs with enchiladas or tacos.

And if anyone has any idea about a chip dip that obviously has tomatillos in it, and green chiles, and possibly pureed creamed corn, let me know. It was delicious. I cannot wait to get back in the kitchen and start experimenting. Also a sour cream dip with green a chiles.

The most basic theme question at restaurants is “red or green”? meaning red sauce or green. One is made solely from chiles and the other with tomatillos. One is not hotter than the other, it all depends on the chiles used. And ordering “christmas” means you want both.

There will be a quiz tomorrow.

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