Tuesday, June 28, 2005

The Holey Spirit

I got to marry off my friends this weekend. Amanda and Mike, who I was lucky to know when they first met, and am lucky to know still. Performing a ceremony is nerve-wracking. Such an important event, and all sorts or expectations, or lack thereof, are handed to you when you are not a "real" minister. But somehow, none of that matters once you are up standing up there, with people you love looking to you to seal their pact, to start them off together with honesty, and nobility, and care. I did my best, and it probably would not have mattered if I was speaking in tongues. The congregation gave the most heartfelt applause I have ever heard, because the union was blessed no matter what the words.

The rain that threatened all day finally began to fall for a few moments right as we signed the license, just a few soft drops, and then a double rainbow materialized for them, framed by the Sandia mountains at dusk. Little crying Greek women drew me aside to tell me that it was the most moving ceremony they had ever been to, that it was my calling, and a colorful mountain hippy girl told me she would like to hire me to be the permanent minister in the ancient church she is renovating on South 14. An aging queen with giant ear piercings told me he heard every word. I said I was glad the mic had worked. "No, " he said,"I. Heard. Every. Word." Ah. I danced and drank and laughed with these two wonderful families and thier crazy friends until the sun was about to rise, and I have never seen a happier bunch.

In fact, every friend I I saw this weekend, and even my own eccentric relatives, are all happier that I have ever seen them, no matter what changes they are facing, no matter what hardships have fallen upon them to get them to where they are.

And as for whether I have found my calling, it doesn't seem so yet. I told the Editor that I wished it was as simple as just settling on one thing that I liked and just doing that thing. The response?

"Now, why in the world would you have to do that?"

Thursday, June 16, 2005


There have been a few things I've seen on television lately that I simply cannot keep to myself.

One is a show about a young man who had a terrible disease, and apparently died. It is narrated by a young boy, presumably undead, and merely pretending to be the dead boy, who says something along the lines of; "Hi, my name is Tyler. That's me in the box. This is my story..." The box he refers to is his own small coffin. That's right. Eventually, we get the show title: "THE BOY WHOSE SKIN FELL OFF." Is this a joke I don't understand, or an attempt to jerk at my heart strings?

Perhaps my heart strings unravelled some time ago, but my reaction is actually to laugh maniacly, and then want to retch a little.

THEN, tonight, I see an advertisement for a new product, described as some sort of pre-moistened disposable potty wipe, targeted at toilet-trainees and the women who swab them. The name of this glorified kleenex? The "Kan-doo." I kid you not.

Don't get me started on the chick in the boat who plugs its leaking hole (!) with her trusty Tampax, either.

Too far, it's all gone far too far...

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Built For Two

El Conquistador de Montanas. That is the name of our new tandem bicycle. (We did not name it this, the company did, but it is quite hilarious.) It is bright green, and can go very fast, and take us to the ocean, as it did yesterday, or to the next town, as it did today. My shoes clip onto the pedals, and make clippity cloppity sounds when I walk around in them. The seat is supposedly designed to be kind to the ladies, but I remain unconvinced thus far. But I am exquisitely pleased to ride around with my sweet husband, as ever. Only now we may actually get in shape while we are at it.

Couplings intesify on many other levels. Last week or so, I found out that Jen and Mike are engaged, This is a wonderful thing. In around two weeks I will perform the ceremony for the wedding of my friends, Amanda and Mike, in Albuquerque, also astoundingly good. This next bit, however, threw me for a complete and utter loop-

Dad called me yesterday and left a message that I should call him back . He said he had good news. I had a feeling, but you never know with dad. Words cannot express my pleasured surprise at finding out that my 69 year old father, my eternally optimistic and hilariously quirky father, has finally met his match and will also be getting married, in about two months. The woman is named Wanona, part Cherokee, and nearly his age. For those of you who know my father, the last bit is particulary novel. And yes, I will perform that ceremony, too, right after the play opens.

Tickled, tickled pink I am, I tell ya. Consistently about to burst into fits of weeping giggling with the silly touchingness of it all. Is 'touchingness" a word, you ask? It is now.

Sunday, June 05, 2005


I want to open up a resturant called 'redorgreen?' Only New Mexicans know what this means, but I think the rest of the world has been deprived long enough. My chile seedlings are about 3" tall and the Editor is going to help me transplant them tomorrow. I hope I get some sustainable plants out of this lot. Sam thinks I am obsessed, like he gets with his beer brewing. I say, 'yes.' And why not? Last night I dreamed of a red chile cheese baked potato dish. So I made it today, along with green chile enchiladas, refried beans, and sopapillas. That's right. Life is good. The potatoes are really quite fantastic. I could see them on the menu in the restaurant.

The only other time I dreamed of yet-uncreated food was in Albany. I also dreamed of chile and potatoes. Green chile cheese mashed potatoes. So I got up and made them. My roomates were proud. I remember Brandy bragged to people, "These green chile mashed potatoes have absolutely no butter in them. It's just cheese and sour cream." Oh yeah, that's decadent stuff. Not for the weak of artery.

Dreaming up food and then making it is good. If only I could learn to manifest other tangibles within my dreams. Ever since I was young, I had dreams that I could fly, if you want to call them dreams. A number of years ago, they abated abruptly. Today during a nap today, I had my first one in probably 5 years. I couldn't go very far, and something was pushing my head back towards the earth, but goddamit, fly I did.

Behold the power of chile potato dreams.