As one commenter said here after Bush's press conference..."right now it is just too stressful for me.....I think I am just tired of worrying day and night what the fuckheads will do next..."
I thought the summed up the feelings of many of us. I'm pretty sure the president's extremely disturbed. Tuesday he tried to show us with one of his rare nationally televised meetings with the media. Very confusing, it left much of the nation very unsettled. I'm sure I'll have more to say about that soon but yesterday Editor Sam and I decided to take a 'mental health' day away from the 'office.' We would get away.
Inviting our excellent traveling companion Mrs. Dada to join us, we headed towards New Mexico with no particular destination in mind. Sam's been after me to show him some of the places I'm always telling him about. He wanted to see 'em before they totally disappear from the American landscape.
It was a gorgeous day, temperatures in the low 70's and below are but a few of photos from our trip. I hope to expand upon these in the near future.
Once we hit the mighty Rio Grande, we shadowed its path northward, but not until we walked its banks for a ways here. Across the river is a golf course/country club. So beautiful on the opposite banks, we would have liked to have walked the river from that side, but there was a sign telling us to stay out.
After a brief stop in the picturesque village of San Miguel, NM (which I hope to devote an entire blog to eventually), we ended up here in the even quainter village of Mesilla. I love the authentic adobes like those shown here lining the streets of the original village.
Now experiencing the encroachment of civilization's "progress" all about it, new growth is overwhelming little Mesilla. The flavor of the original community is being attempted with structures now made of faux adobe (plywood covered over with plaster).
The plaza is a great place to sit and sun oneself after a great meal of New Mexican style cuisine. Sadly, dogs aren't allowed in the restaurants or on the plaza and I was sorry that Sam had to learn this. (Confidentially, I think he was pretty miffed.)
But it had been a great day and Sam got to meet some nice people. One woman (a true dog lover) took Sam's picture. Asking what kind of dog he was, I told her, "Part dalmation, part editor." Out of the blue she said (like so many others just meeting Sam have been apt to say), "He looks part greyhound." No response could have pleased me more, all three of Sam's predecessors having been greyhounds.
Then it was time to return home. Knowing Sam was tired, we took the 45 mile drive back on the freeway. Sam fell asleep between Mrs. Dada and I on the way.