Courtesy of Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure

Typically, dear readers, this is the time of year when I sit down to vent over some inflated holiday travesty.  This entry started out as my Holiday Rant, but as I trolled through my previous posts I realized that I have hit a bench mark, 50 posts and three years.  When I started the blog I never imagined I would enjoy it as much as I do, and my hope is you enjoy it as well, or in the least find my ramblings amusing.  No-one is more surprised than I, with the possible exception of my middle school English teachers who suffered though my time in their classes, that I write for the experience of it all and enjoy the outcome.  I hated the whole idea of journals in school (and cringe when I have to make my kids write in theirs) but  now, here we are.

In case you are an avid follower of mine and have been waiting with bated breath for my traditional holiday rant, here are a few reruns to tide you over to the end of this piece. http://jim-afisheyeview.blogspot.com/2010/12/saving-by-attrition.html, which are my post-holiday shopping revelations http://jim-afisheyeview.blogspot.com/2011/12/holiday-card-insanity.html, where I discuss the double edged sword of holiday cards, http://jim-afisheyeview.blogspot.com/2011/01/4-gs-of-christmas.html, Where I rant over the obvious insanity of the season as a whole. 

Now if you read those posts you may believe I’m some sort of humbug misanthrope, of course you are free to have your opinion.  But as the foremost expert on me, I will beg to differ.  I love Christmas, or at least the food, gifts, and parties.  Now for some history.

Before Point Break and the Matrix, and before Keanu Reeves thought he could act, there was Bill and Teds Excellent Adventure, which in my opinion is exactly the type of movie Keanu should stick too.  None the less, the movie is a bit of a cult classic, and along with Valley girls, likely did more to influence our modern speech patterns than is healthy. However, the perpetually surprised, stoned duo (Yes duo, remember Alex Winter? No? I’m not surprised) did have an excellent adventure and received some very impressive advice from our dearly departed George Carlin, “Be Excellent to Each Other.” (If you need a reason to laugh or remember George at his finest, follow this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbZhpf3sQxQ)

I think regardless of your political bent, your religious hobbies, socio-economic background or preference for Fox over NBC you can agree, being excellent is a worthy directive for life. So I challenge you to disregard the hate that’s on TV or the ignorance stemming from your great aunt Sallies 3^rd martini and do as the George asks…..Be Excellent to Each Other.

As anyone who has ever spent time in New Mexico will tell you, “things are different here”  and I believe that that difference has a lot to do with me abandoning the annual rant for maybe something a bit more akin to “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Just so you don’t think I’m getting soft, below is my original text for your use and enjoyment.

Original Rant (abridged)

Recently it has been fun for the news networks to take up the plight of the service/ sales industry employees who are forced to work through the ridiculous hours of the Black Friday commercial gorge fest.  I’m happy to report that I will not be partaking of the gorge fest, but not due to the ramblings of the perfectly quaffed newscaster.  Instead my rational is a bit more selfish, and see, I’m big enough to admit it.  Really, the thought of waiting in line, to fight off people, to again wait in line to pay, for a thing I don’t need, offends me.  This isn't to say I don’t sympathize with the service workers who unjustly have to work at 12am, I just cannot attribute my Black Friday abstinence to support of their plight.

This little scenario is just part of the conflict that plays out between Halloween and Presidents day every year here in America.  History and religion aside, I believe part of the intent of the federal holiday is to give the machine a break, allow the oil of life to seep into the joints and generally lubricate a better society.  This belief is in part fostered by the general pain in the  (knee, neck, and ass) if feel as the holiday season approaches.  Regardless of intent, Federal holidays are today just that, the Federal government has a day off.  Corporate America can choose which, if any, to shut down. Indeed the issue rests not only with the Blue Collar workers who are in the news today, but also with White collar workers who lost President's day weekend in the 80’s, Veteran's day in the 90’s and never had the chance to celebrate MLK day. The intent is gone, along the way something was lost, and our joints will continue to suffer. 

More dubious than the non-universality of the Federal holiday, is the ridiculous double edged sword corporate America swings.  The cutting edge of the sword axes the holiday from the workers to improve  bottom line while the trailing edge subtly promotes its own interests under the guise of holiday cheer. Enter the corporate holiday card.  Corporations don’t want to wish you a Merry Christmas, they want to slip you an ad that’s warm and fuzzy.

I am a fan of wishing folks “a happy holiday” and have been called on the carpet a few times here in Albuquerque, which is an overwhelming Christian city, to call it Christmas.  And to that I have to warn folks.  Since our government  likes to keep separated from religion, mandating that the holiday be called Christmas while maintaining its federal blessing is a slippery slope.  Sure that’s the intent but it was also intended at a time when it was ok to persecute people for their beliefs and as a nation we considered ourselves Christian.  Times have changed, and things will continue to change.  What happens in 30 years when Christians may not be the majority?  Or suppose the Purple Footed Ninja religion (made up) sue the feds to mandate their own federally reckoned holiday, which in my opinion would only be fair. Would we get another holiday, would there be a purple Friday? Would Glenn Beck spontaneously combust?

Something to Think about……

Deficiency of Perspective

When While E. Coyote paints the tunnel on the solid rock wall, he bends the perspective of the Road Runner to the extent that the road runner doesn't know he shouldn't be able to run through it.  The Coyote of course knows better, and is impacted with predictable results.

It’s clear to me that perspective is maybe the greatest of all virtues and it consistently gets the shaft.  Virtues in and of themselves, are a slippery thing; dangerously close to morals, and a close kissing cousin to values. We all know how dangerous values are and how often they are pirated by the media or a politician. Virtues, are perhaps one of the more high jacked concepts in our persona.  We all know the 7 Christian values….I’m not yapping about those.  I’m talking about the virtues we don’t need to be reminded about, innate virtues.  Beauty, Grace (the under pressure kind) Charm, Wisdom, (add your own virtues here) and Perspective, which is undervalued and under reported.

Perspective adds depth to our understanding.  Without perspective we are left in a world defined by what we see ourselves (or what we think we've seen), and what we believe others have seen; all tinted through the lens our own limited scope of knowledge.  A classic example is the “Round Earth vs. Flat Earth” argument.  Most folks find this comical today, but for the greater part of human history we “knew” the earth was flat.  It was only relatively recently that Pythagoras, confirmed the math, Magellan sailed round the world without falling off, and as a final proof the space programs multitude of measurements and photos confirms that the planet is round (technically a spheroid).

Time, science, and effort give us the perspective we need to laugh at the Flat Earth Society like we laughed at the Y2K doomsayers’. Honestly, I think perspective is minimized by many aspects of our society, so people believe what they are told to believe, rather than what their own personal experiences dictate.

I was reminded of this on a recent business trip to Hobbs NM, which is best described as west, West Texas and as an oil boom town has the faint whiff of gas in the air.  This place is fairly isolated with Roswell, NM and all of its associated aliens, as the closest biggest metropolitan center. As I introduced myself to the class I was teaching I mentioned I was new to the State of New Mexico and spent the last few years working in New Jersey.  New Mexicans are welcoming folks by nature and the class quickly derailed my opening remarks by the barrage of questions I’m accustomed to hearing when folks find out I’m new here.  First question is almost always “Why New Mexico” then “What do you think” and lastly usually something about Chili, or simply put “Red or Green?” (The New Mexico State Question)

I thought I had satisfied the group with my answers, but one gentlemen who I shall refer to as Cowboy (due to the hat, mustache, vest, and persona that would have made Wyatt Earp jealous) said “You don’t sound like all of those Jersey A-holes we seen on TV.”  I must have looked a bit stunned, and my first impulse was to say “No, I’m not one of those A-Holes.” Cowboy continued, “Prove It!” “The proof is, I moved here to New Mexico” That bought me some time, and we moved on.  During the 1^st break I was cornered by folks who based a large part of their knowledge of the Northeast on what they had seen on TV.  Many had never left this flat dusty corner of the world, nor had any intention to, so TV became reality. 

Think about that, TV as reality, a scary concept but not that far off.  We have Reality TV which (Spoiler Alert) is about as real as Pro Wrestling, we have made for TV movies, we have Hollywood movies on TV, (yuck more John Cusack and Sandra Bullock) we have the history channel broadcasting “Nazis vs. Aliens” we have CSPAN, CNN, Nickelodeon and AMC……lots of entertainment, but none are reality. 

It’s a problem of perspective, or more appropriately a lack thereof. The information age has made it easy to fire up a device and search out info, however technology has also made it ridiculously easy to publish faulty information (for example this Blog).  The right answer is out there, but only if I’m interested and smart enough to sort through the muck and quagmire to find it.  The other day, I had to try and explain this to my son, who said, as he read Ripley’s Believe it Or Not, something to the effect that it must be true since it’s in a book.  When I heard that I just about ruptured, but when I tried to explain that you have to be critical of the information you consume, I botched it terribly.  Explaining to a kid why one source is better than the next, when both sources are in writing, is not so easy.

(I think the parallel would be having kids explain to you why they can see you kiss your spouse goodbye, but when the kissing scene happens at the end of the movie, they close their eyes and say Groooossss!)

Before I came to NM, all I knew about the State was what little I could read on Wiki Whatever and the Series Breaking Bad.  Many of you probably base your whole conception of Albuquerque on Breaking Bad; because that’s all you know.  It’s like going into a library and checking out the only book on the subject…..and in truth; Albuquerque became a big part of the cast of that show.  However, beyond the scenery and the product placement, I think you might agree that one show cannot represent an entire city.

I thought about this on my 6 hour drive back from Hobbs and became slightly concerned over the perception these folks must have had for me once they learned I worked in NJ…….Sopranos, Jersey Shore, Real House Wives, Boardwalk Empire, Cake Boss, Bikini Barbershop, these are just a few of the more recent shows that highlight the NJ attitude, lifestyle and perpetuate the A-Hole persona Cowboy was concerned over. It’s as if he walked into the library and checked out a half dozen books and all generally confirmed one another.

Perception is reality, which is really a lesson in understanding people and understanding yourself.  How people perceive you, IS what they know, perspective is the key to understanding what they've seen.  

The Black Hills Gang

Black Hills Gang

Not too far from Albuquerque is a small town called Ruidoso, which is in Lincoln County.  If you're into western lore, or more strangely, into Emilio Estevez movies, Lincoln county is a hotbed of history featuring  “Billy the Kid” among an all-star cast of outlaws, secessionists, and miscreants.  I have visited the county and saw no bandits or gunslingers and excepting the questionable food from the local BBQ joint, I was unmolested for the duration of my visit (yes food can molest you).  However, this is not always the case here in Albuquerque. In fact, I have been threatened with all manner of weapons. 

While the lethality of the weapons might be questioned, the creativity of those who brandish the weapons is above reproach.  I have been attacked by bandits masquerading as ninjas, who yell loudly and travel on bikes, storm troopers armed with the latest Nerf arsenal, and a pack of grinning Cheshire Cats armed with water guns. Walter White and his band of meth slinging minions? No, not hardly. However in their own way they are just as dangerous.  (cue the foreboding music) Allow me to introduce:

The Black Hills Gang. (Dun du Dahhhhhhhh!)

The gang is a loose confederation of boys who roam our neighborhood in search of available snacks, mischief and a safe haven to avoid showers.

When we moved into our home in Albuquerque (situated on Black Hills Court) we knew no one west of the Mississippi.  This changed as a young man and his friend watched cautiously as we unloaded the trailer.  The local boys and my sons first acknowledged the others’ existence from afar.  Then began simultaneous, but independent shows of physical prowess….basketball shots, drive by scooterings, and then with all due caution the boys approached each other from opposite ends of the cul-de-sac.  I watched this unwind with David Attenborough narration running through my head, like a nature film. “Hey Dude” from my son and  “Hey and Hi” from the local kids. Contact was made!  The boys played for a while and then retreated to their corners.  My sons didn’t know the names of the boys but there was a connection.  In a few days’ time, I found them all on the couch, barely acknowledging me, playing video games, and I knew a friendship was formed.

The gang had a few rough patches as minor tiffs erupted in brief violence, but soon the hierarchy was established and the confederation formed. I have watched these boys now for several months and I haven’t been able to determine who the leader is.  I think that the leader shifts based on the whims of the group, the day of the week, and the wind.  Preference is obviously given to the boy “whose idea it was”….and there are often long and protracted negotiations regarding rules and complicated planning sessions for the various plots and raids.  However, the gang operates with extreme efficiency.

Like the gangs of New Mexico lore, the Black Hills Gang uses chaos and disarray to their maximum benefit. Since they are obviously incapable of stealth, a successful raid on the refrigerator usually begins with one or two boys entering through the garage and distracting the adult.  As a defending adult, it is impossible to resist the urge to tell the boy to remove dirty shoes and to stop jumping from one couch to the other.  As the tenor of your voice rises the trap is set and the rest of the gang quickly enters the kitchen through the front door and strips the snack cabinet clear in 15 seconds.  Another tactic I have experienced is the Piranha attack.  Here, one boy spots a food item and with a pitched voice says “We have grapes!?!” and like a pack of ravenous neo-tropical fish they descent on the grapes, barely managing not to bite one another’s fingers.  Before anything can be done, the bowl is left spinning on the table, forlorn and denuded of fruit, the branches barely peeking over the edge of the bowl. The gang makes a quick escape and rides to the next unsuspecting target.

This past weekend the boys were circling the kitchen, now and again, like hungry wolves, one would bravely poke his head into the lighted kitchen to inspect.  I was ready for them each time and chased them away as much for the fun of it as because I was elbow deep in cleaning the sink, and dinner was gonna have to wait.  Eventually, I heard a brief discussion and the gang mounted their trusty steeds (bikes) and headed out to the neighboring house.  By the time it occurred to me what their plan was it was too late to warn the poor unsuspecting folks….the gang descended on their kitchen! I can only imagine the chaos of a quiet dinner interrupted.  

My wife, returning from the local burrito stand (lament easterners, that you do not have Golden Pride, Carne Adovada Burritos) had anticipated the gang’s attack, but arrived too late to appease the ravenous horde, and thus spare the neighbor. The gang’s innate ability to find quick and handy food alerted them to the new scavenging opportunity and they returned to my home, still chewing whatever they found at the last house, and waded into the sack of burritos with abandon.  It was terrifyingly amazing.

A gang of young boys may be the most destructive force on the planet. Water is often given that title but I think the scientists who make the claim are missing the obvious.  However powerful, the gang can be stopped.  I have stopped them cold by turning on Ben 10 cartoons. They stop mid-stride as they hear the pop and whine of the TV turning on.  Generally the horde is repelled by soap, and takes great strides to hide on shower night.  They can also be tracked. It is possible to know where in the house they are by following the trail of snack wrappers, and the hideout, den, or “fort” will have a particular odor, best described as “gym socks a la boy”.

The gang is definitely a force to be reckoned with.  Call it a subtle nod to Lord of the Flies, Stand by Me, or The Sandlot, but watching the gang operate has a certain natural beauty.  It’s great to see the boys out and about being boys.  Getting hurt, making friends and doing the slightly stupid stuff that builds character.  (For example, the other day I watched them take turns standing in front of the automatic pitching machine to get pummeled by whiffle balls) The neighborhood has made our transition here so much smoother and I really believe that the little experiences now will help them stay safe when the stakes are higher.  It’s also comforting to have a neighborhood where we can let them roam, let them police themselves a bit, and learn the rules of society; through the lens of their own, slightly twisted, obscure and nuanced little universe where Legos still rule and a Hot Pocket and Kool-Aid lunch is as good as it gets.

In Anticipation of Thursday..... via Wednesday

     Somebody once told me that the thing most written about in the English language is fly fishing. I’m sure that’s just wishful thinking.  Sure, fishing has Whitman, Thoreau, Grey, and Hemingway.  But let’s be real, Love has Shakespeare, death has Poe, and Wednesdays have a litany of agitated workers. 

     Wednesday; turns out it is named after Mercury. According to a few online sources, in most languages and cultures, from German through Korean, Wednesday references Mercury.  Didn't know that did ya?  I didn't either and I find it strange that a day so powerful, so feared, is named after our most diminutive planet neighbor. So if you Google Wednesday and then follow the links to define it, you find that some folks (Christians mostly) consider Wednesday the 4^th day of the week, because of course Sunday has to be first. To be fair, with a name that includes our most massive and powerful celestial neighbor, maybe Sunday deserves the pole position.  I however, prefer to keep my Saturdays and Sundays where they belong, firmly entrenched in the weekend, and therefore Wednesday is my third day and Sunday is my last (gasp!).  As an aside, it really bothers some people that my outlook calendar is set to have Monday as the first day of the week, not sure why more people don’t do it, keeps your weekends on the same page.

     All things in life have a pattern and often the pattern is undefinable by our feeble minds and limited scope, more often the patterns are undeniable, and so we always find ourselves with the prospect of a Monday following a Sunday and a Wednesday preceding Thursday.  Deep stuff right?

     Mondays Suck, it’s a universal truth.  Many of you had Sunday free of work to chase your leisure pursuits, some of you traveled, some attended a church, others watched the Eagles loose….Maybe you ticked items off the “honey-do” list….Point is you were not at work. Monday begins like a cruel joke where the alarm rings at a far too early 7am; and you reluctantly realize you have another week of work ahead of you. Monday afternoon slips in after you waded through the morning meetings, you sorted email, and caught up with the office small talk, some of you posted the cutesy anti-Monday Facebook propaganda. Work is finally beginning and you feel OK with the world. 

     Tuesday arrives, just as predicated, and it is in fact my favorite day to be in an office.  All the Monday junk is out of the way and people generally work, good things can happen on Tuesdays.

     Without the slightest bit of foreboding music or ominous cloud cover, Tuesdays come to a peaceful end. We go to bed as if completely unaware of the hazards on that await us once the hour hand crosses the meridian.  All at once we are thrust into the dreaded mid-week ordeal of Wednesday.

     Maybe by now you’re wondering where I’m going with this, maybe you don’t care; just the same, stick with me here.

     This past Wednesday I had received 4 anti-Wednesday Emails, saw 24 references to” Hump Day” in Facebook (for which I blame GEICO), had 3 coworkers drop “I hate Wednesdays or “Hump Day” jokes in my office and 2 folks on the phone mention it. Ack! E-Gads, enough already!  Wednesdays could be great, they could be another Thursday, or with a little training the superior Tuesday.  But we have to give it a chance.  This all brings me to my next concern, what is ”Hump Day”?

     “Hump day”, I think implies that once you are through Wednesday the rest of the week is all downhill.  Jokes connecting “Hump Day” to sex aside, I think this is a short sighted misnomer to say the least and in fact may be limiting our nation’s intellectual growth.  I think we can all agree that the best part of the week, the pinnacle, is the weekend. (I have unscientifically determined that the absolute best and therefore highest part of the week, is Saturday between the hours of 9pm and Midnight, which is the period of time it takes to have three well-made cocktails after the kids are in bed).  If evil doesn't exist, then good can’t either, and so you can’t have a hill without a valley.  If Saturday evening holds a rope of continuum high over its head, and hands the other end to next Saturday, what happens to that rope? Where does the continuum sag?  It sags squarely on Wednesday. 

     Wednesday is no hillock, hummock or Knoll and it certainly isn't a hump.  It’s at best a slump, or a draw, maybe a crevasse, we fall into and have to claw our way out of.  I think you all agree.  Really, have you ever thought about the Wednesday stuff that’s out there, resent week after week, via social media? Is any of it positive? Really positive, as in “Gosh golly I’m just so enthused it’s Wednesday I’m going to sing like Judy Garland, in the lunchroom, with a smile!”  No, didn't think so.

     Now that this is all out there, you may be a bit concerned that without “Hump Day” you may wreck your circadian rhythm or have your moral compass get all Jack Sparrowed.  I thought about that.  I wouldn't want you to wander around in a swarmy state with too much eyeliner, so I have enlisted Thursday to help guide you through.  I would like to present with all due fanfare and pomp “Thirsty Thursday.”

      What makes “Thirsty Thursday” better than the aforementioned and now thoroughly disgraced “Hump Day” is that it promotes good cheer by rewarding those who choose to follow in its grace.  You have clawed your way out of the crevasse of Wednesday and it’s time to celebrate! “Thirsty Thursday” demands that a fine adult beverage be consumed after work hours, but with enough ceremony to encourage relaxation.  Maybe Happy hour on Thursdays, Fairfax style! Without a happy hour, I recommend you find a good sippin drink, learn to mix it well, and enjoy it; feet up, someplace relaxing, with “Hump Day” far behind you.

     I recommend in the hotter summer days you partake of this fine beverage, invented by “The Fisheye View”, and if you know me, you understand the name.

“Ginger Smile”

Ingredients:

Cubed Ice

Fee Brothers Cherry Bitters, or 2 maraschino cherries

Strong Ginger Beer, Goslings is my favorite, 1 can or bottle Ginger Beer makes two tall drinks.

Rye Whisky, I recommend Old Overholt, or Rittenhouse.  Something strong and harsh enough to stand up to the Ginger Beer.  Rye 1 or George Dickle Rye is too smooth for the drink.  Really any whisky will work in this but Rye is the best.

Fill a tall Collins glass 2/3 full of ice.  Add 3 dashes Fee Brothers, or 2 Maraschino cherries, pour a strong measure, (2oz at least) Rye into glass, fill with Ginger Beer.

Cheers!

The Great Westward Migration

The idea of packing your life into a box and leaving for the hills is not a new topic for this Blog.  “Your Life In A Box” http://jim-afisheyeview.blogspot.com/2011/02/your-life-in-box.html prophetically went through the basics two years ago, and as a bonus included ample reference to the better of the two movies Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey starred in together.  However, on the evening of March 14^th 2013 I found myself looking at a 6 x 12 U-Haul trailer that contained the sum of my family’s possessions, which were deemed worthy to travel west with us.  I imagine that several hundred years ago some other man (named something biblical) did the same thing. I’m sure Nimrod (If your going to go biblical, go big!) had a slightly different mode of transportation, a bit more travel time to contend with but decidedly less traffic. 

In the weeks between accepting the job and the western migration we whittled down our belongings. Clothing and old toys were donated, unused kitchen tools tossed, even extra bedding was disposed of.  We sold some things, gave others away.  All in all, the experience was liberating.  Along the way we visited the childhood homes and made some keepsake deposits, returned some borrowed items and picked up a few things we couldn't leave behind.  The business at hand and the socializing kept the “last” visit light and surprisingly normal. The mental survival instinct kicked in to keep us moving ahead; looking back now it is just as sad, but then it was exciting. 

So the trailer was packed with pictures and important stuff, valued by size, weight and inability to replace.  I approached the packing like the project manager I am, and had at least 7 spreadsheets.  We did our homework to find out if the cost to replace the kitchen glasses was worth the cost of the packing materials and the space in the trailer, and then completed that exercise for anything that wasn't sentimental.  It should not surprise anyone that most of what is in your kitchen is cheaper to leave behind than haul with you.

The plan called for my wife to take the kids in the van, well provisioned with snacks, movies and our travel clothing and I would follow towing the trailer.  I was excited about the prospect of the open road as much as any Hunter S. Thompson fan, but chose to medicate myself with a ridiculous amount of music and coffee over Hunters more traditional staples. We planned to drive an average of 400 miles per day, stopping at hotels with pools; Columbus OH, St. Louis MO, Tulsa OK, Amarillo TX, Albuquerque, NM with an extra day in St. Louis to break it all up.

On the morning of the 15^th, we dragged the mattress to the dumpster, dragged the kids into the van, hit the Wawa for a goodbye salute http://jim-afisheyeview.blogspot.com/2013/07/wawa-in-rear-view-albuquerque-ahead.html and jumped on the PA turnpike, westward Ho!

Driving the truck loaded down with the trailer was an exciting experience. By exciting I mean slightly terrifying.  At 70 mph, the trailer swayed when passed and pulled the nose of the truck creating a serious sway issue….at 60 the problem was less severe but I got passed more often, which wasn't necessary better.  Due to inexperience and the steep grades, western PA was the worst of it, by the time we made it to St. Louis it was smooth sailing.

We made it to Columbus OH in time to have dinner with some family and take stock of our situation.  As predicted, a trip to Wal-Mart was needed for new CB’s, snacks and a 6 pack for my wife and I….yes Wal-Mart has booze in OH.  Also in OH was my first sighting of a drive through Italian pasta fast-food place. Truly scary.

We made it to St. Louis in time for the cold rain, to turn into wet snow.  St. Louis thinks it has the world cornered on toasted ravioli….nope, and they were deep fried.  We saw the Arch, the Mississippi and the remnants of what looked like an insane St. Patrick’s day party downtown.  We spent our day off at “The City Museum”http://www.citymuseum.org/site/ in St. Louis.  Which is they absolute coolest place I have ever been, if you are ever even close to St. Louis, go.  Go in the morning if you have kids, go in the evening if you don’t.  It’s like an art museum, an super huge indoor jungle gym and a circus all in one…..really can’t stress enough how cool it is. They sell beer. Google It!

In the middle of Missouri we stopped at a “Route 66” catfish shack and were rewarded by finding Sorghum syrup….it’s like maple syrup and honey mixed together, and is made from a type of grass, similar to sugar cane.  Super sweet, thick, and most excellent on the Hushpuppies.  It was the best meal of the trip.

In Tulsa while the kids swam, I went out to find dinner.  I found a Budweiser product which in concept is sickening, and a Subway tuna fish sandwich that did make my youngest son sick, and sicker, and sickest for the next few hundred miles of the trip. This forced my older son to choose between a van wreaking of regurgitated half-digested tuna fish, or a truck that did not have a video player……after much deliberation he chose the truck. Amarillo allowed for my first Shiner Bock beer, washed down by a truly Texas sized BBQ meal.  Also in Amarillo was this store: Toot'n  Totum....any ideas what they sell there?

Our last day, our last 300 miles, into Albuquerque almost came too fast.  As we drove steadily west, gently uphill toward the mountains the landscape changed from plains, to high desert and we saw our first pronghorn, and prairie dogs.  Just inside the New Mexico border we stopped to buy “real” fireworks, and just that quick rolled over the Sandia’s into the Rio Grande Valley, and the kids saw their new home city for the first time……and then the stress became real.

2000 miles in six days isn't a blistering pace, it wasn't supposed to be.  We had an opportunity to see maybe ¾ of the county through the windshield, and wanted to enjoy it as much as possible.  It was easy to forget that the trip wasn't a vacation. It was a  migration, and life changed.

Wawa in the Rear-view, Albuquerque Ahead

Those of you in Eastern PA and Western NJ know the subtle elegance of the Wawa market. You may not appreciate it, but trust me it’s there.  Fresh sandwiches, tolerable coffee, smokes, maybe gas, Tastycakes and enough bottled beverages to keep your balder stretched for miles.  It’s a one stop shop that fits nicely into the blue color world around Philadelphia that which spawned the chain.  For many it’s the first stop on their morning commute, it was my last stop in Pennsylvania.

                                                          

It is never easy to leave something known, for the unknown. Those of you who have made leaps within the corporate world know this.  In the spring of 2012 I determined that the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach was born out of a general stress.  Stress induced by paranoia within the corporate world of my employer, and by the daily grind of life.  So, after a few attempts to quell the paranoia, I determined to test the job market.  It’s one thing to determine to test the market, it’s another to write the resume, align references, and prepare the necessary firewalls for job hunting in a socially tight field connected by smartphones, without altering your current employer.  It took me the better part of 2 months to gather the gumption, and the time to complete the preparations.

Once the resume hit the water, things moved quickly and in no time my wife and I were faced with the very real prospects of moving our family somewhere other than the Northeast.  We were raised in the NE, and returned there to raise our sons, and we had called it home for the previous 9 years.   It is impossible to underplay the effect experience has on your life, and with that in mind, it has always been a priority to provide the kids with a rich diversity of experiences.  The decision of where to go focused on those experiences.

After you have made the decision to move, the mechanics of where and how are remarkably similar, but he stress of making the right choice is imposing.  We moved from Northern VA so the kids would know their family and so my wife could stay at home to be Mom. Now that the kids were in school, and knew family, it seemed right to me to show them a new part of the world, before dating and school became a burden. Essentially, why move unless it’s for something exotic? So I was exploring positions that included international relocation or downtown urban centers, nationwide.

One day in the midst of a particularly hectic whirlwind, the phone rang and an opportunity for work in Albuquerque presented itself. When we discussed it, I found that my wife wasn’t completely against the idea.  We didn’t know anything about Albuquerque, except that it was different and far away and certainly when compared to the New York-Philadelphia Metro area, was exotic.  As the process became more real and we visited for the interview, my wife famously said “Well, I don’t hate it”, when asked about her thoughts on the city. It was all I needed to hear. 

By January of 2013, we knew we were on our way to Albuquerque.  We knew our families and friends would miss us, we knew it would be different, and we worried about all of those parental things that keep you awake.  How we got here, and what we found, is fodder for a few more blog entries….It’s been 7 months so I have to work back into this, bear with me.

Albuquerque doesn't have Wawas, doesn't have Tastycakes or good pizza, but it does have green chili; and if you have eaten that, you know that’s more than enough.