Desert Diva

Today at work, one of my co-workers told the office to use the search engine Google and perform a search using the word “failure.” Surprisingly, the first hit is “Why these results?” and the second is George W. Bush.

Apparently there is a practice called “google bombing” where determined folks can produce strange results. It seems a number of webmasters have used the words “failure” and “miserable failure” to link to President Bush’s website, therefore “pushing” it to the top for searches using these phrases.

This information is not meant to serve as a political discussion of our current President. Instead, I found this phenomena an interesting part of Internet technology.

Today I learned about a new feature of linking to websites (albeit not a nice one) that causes Google to deliver strange results, as well as the new term “google bombing.”

It’s another week of rain showers in my little “neck of the woods.”  When I left Indianapolis ten years ago, I thought I had bid farewell to cold, snowy winters and summer humidity.  (I guess one out of two isn’t bad.) 

The poor folk who have evaporative (swamp) coolers are certainly sweltering.  Lucky for me, the townhome I purchased has “refrigerated” air.  As I sit in my favorite coffee shop (although they raised the prices recently - $1.85 for a regular coffee is excessive in my opinion) the ceiling fans are running full tilt, but it’s still hot! 

Poor Hatch, New Mexico had ANOTHER flood last night, but the annual Hatch Chile Festival is still a go!  I actually lived and worked in the little town of Hatch for five years, and the “festival” is no big deal to me.  If I want to buy green chile, I head for Albertson’s where the “going rate” this year is $14.99 for a 40 lb. bag with roasting for free.  However, I still have some green chile frozen from a year ago. 

I attended my first I.E.P. of the year and in turn will evaluate a high school student with ADD for Assistive Technology.  The parents had just relocated to New Mexico and were quite nice.   (Translation:  Undemanding)  Our Internet connection was finally repaired today after being off and on (mostly off) for nearly three weeks.  Tomorrow is our first payday of the year, so I suppose that’s a “good thing.”  However, we are still working without a contract and the “talks” have now progressed to arbitration. 

The Labor Day weekend with the last hurrah of summer is quickly approaching.  I need to decide where to spend the weekend or just stay at home.  I’m thinking a trip to Taos might be in order.

This weekend the sleepy city of Deming, New Mexico had their annual “Great American Deming Duck Race.” There are lots of corporate sponsors, and various activities are held around the city.  I stayed in the LoW park and the balloons ascensions were held at 7:00 a.m. on Saturday and Sunday. 

Since the duck races and assorted vendors were downtown in a city park, I took Cali with me.  Within five minutes, I was told by a Luna County sheriff that “no dogs were allowed” in the park this weekend.  I took Cali back to the RV, and on the way back met a woman who was walking back to her car after being told the same thing.  I talked to two sheriffs afterward and asked how were people to know if the information wasn’t posted on the website or on the perimeter of the park.  This particular sheriff said it was posted on the website (it wasn’t), and got somewhat “snippy.” 

He also went on to say that a vendor with a “service” dog had gotten into an altercation with another dog.  (Later I saw the so called “service dog.”   According to the owner, she has a history of strokes and the dog knows when she is going to have one.  Her dog is actually a “therapy” dog that is part of a “treatment plan” and not a “service” dog for someone with an actual disability.) 

Another sheriff told me that he was “sick and tired” that for some it was enforced and others not.  Therefore, he wasn’t enforcing the “no dog” rule.  I felt sorry for folks who had traveled with their pets only to find out they couldn’t attend.  Therefore, I’ve attended my “first and last” duck race in Deming.

The best part of the weekend was visiting the St. Clair Winery  and having a chat at the tasting bar with a retired gentleman from NYC over a glass of Nebbiolo.  I still dream about Oregon…..

These are my Freed “Marisa” ballroom shoes.  I have a pair in black and taupe.  Last night I went to the local country club for one of my favorite activities - ballroom dancing.  There is a live orchestra, a nice bar, and a sprung wood dance floor.  There are usually eighty people or so who attend this weekly activity. 

The problem is that when you see folks on a weekly basis you tend to hear gossip and “know their business.”  Case in point: A mother and daughter previously attended the dance with her boyfriend.  The “boyfriend” went after the mother and now they’re married.  The left behind daughter started dancing with a man whose wife has lupus and can’t dance.  The wife would come dancing from time to time - mostly to watch.  The man is divorcing his wife and - you guessed it - going out with the previously left behind daughter. 

I have my own “drama” from time-to-time.  I met a man who was twenty years older than me who I enjoyed dancing with frequently.  A woman (more his age) made a major play for him and I was “left in the dust.”  However, they are both widowed and seem to be happy together so I guess it’s fine.  There are a myriad of “on again, off again” romances.  It’s awkward to dance with these men in their “in-between” times.  I recently was left on the dance floor (after being asked and escorted out) by a guy at the dance club.  A woman came up and told him the orchestra was going to play the song she requested next and he had promised her to dance.  (He later apologized and asked me to lunch.) 

One of my favorite men to dance with is a widower who was previously a Catholic priest.  He told me he and his wife used to “dance around the kitchen” while she made tacos for dinner.  Jerry is in his eighties, but still pretty energetic.  He drives over an hour each Thursday to come to dance.  When I rest my arm on his shoulder to dance I’m reminded of the frail bones of a bird. 

Another woman broke off a five-year relationship with a man she had been dating for five years.  He is now (dancing) with someone else.  She still hasn’t been able to heal and transcend from the relationship.  When I speak with her, she is still filled with anger and hate over her ex.  It’s been over a year now. 

So, what’s a girl to do that wants to dance?

Yesterday, I took a “lazy Sunday afternoon drive,” and ended up at the La Viña Winery.    I took the back road along NM 28, where there were lots of motorcycle riders.  I passed by many fields of cotton, as well as the infamous “Chopes Bar & Cafe” in La Mesa. 

There was a trio playing at the winery called “Live by Request.”  It was nice sitting out on the patio drinking a glass of Rojo Loco and listening to the music.  The group played a lot of Bob Dylan and John Prine.  Lots of folks brought a picnic lunch and then purchased wine to go with their meal. 

I took another route back home and dinner was a veggieburger and a Deschutes Brewery Mirror Pond Pale Ale.  I then watched the last of the three movies that I had rented.  (Beauty Shop, Closer, and The Upside of Anger)  I didn’t like any of them - maybe I’m just not a movie person.  Now, it’s another week of work wishing I were “on the road.”