Car Theft and Compassion

Madrid.  Not pronounced like the city in Spain, think more of the fabric madras and go from there.
Not wanting to sound too strange to all these people who won't even talk to me, I adopt the local quirky pronunciation.  Actually I did talk to a few people in Madrid, most notably a delightful local news reporter from the NBC affiliate in Albuquerque.  Forever more referred to as ABQ in my writing because although I am a good speller, I'm tired of thinking this one through every time.

This really nice man gave me some down low on local hot spots, and even a few to avoid.  He informed that ABQ has a very high auto theft rate, and I confirmed that by checking Google.  Ranked at #2 in the nation for 2016 - Denver was 46 BTW.  I let him know my purpose for sequestering myself in Santa Fe for a month, and his kind words and encouragement affirmed my belief I am spot on in my subject matter.

Earlier in the day, I had gone to a writers meetup that I will not be returning to.  I consider myself progressive and free-thinking.  Open to ideas and happy to listen to others.  But I cannot wrap my head around 'compassion is ruining the world' as spewed by a seemingly normal young woman who spends five months each year camping in the wilderness with 26 friendly bears.  Her Miata is tricked out like a Bond mobile to ensure her safety.  And she is a life and financial coach.

After that interaction, which I feel compelled to tell you really rankled me, I had to go to Al-Anon for a spiritual infusion before heading south to Madrid.  When the most normal people I see and hear in the day all suffer the effects of someone else's alcohol use or addiction, then you know I am meeting some interesting folks here in the Capitol City of New Mexico.

Today I headed south again to the #2 hold on to your keys city in the US.  I took the advice not to have much in my car and certainly nothing more than a water bottle and my gloves in plain sight.  In 55 degree weather I'm not worried about people taking my gloves.  And it is not hot enough to break my window for some life-saving liquid refreshment.  The same mileage separates Santa Fe to ABQ as Denver to CS.  Doable, but not an everyday activity for me.  It was an easy drive, and I went though at least two Indian Reservations.  Vast country.  The mountains hold no clue as to east or west, however because it was more valley-esque.

My first stop was the Lucille B. Horne YMCA on Indian School Road for a Core Class.  This Y is clean, busy and does not have a pool.  I arrived in time to lay out my mat and ask the young gal next to me if there were yoga blocks available for use.  She chuckled and informed me this class had no time for blocks, and we would be vigorously moving for a full 55 minutes.  She told me to get ready because there is no break, barely time to catch your breath, less time to sneak a sip from your water bottle.  She was not kidding.  I knew the moves; lunges, sun salutations, baby back bend, warriors two and three, plank, cobra et al, but I have never performed them at a 78 speed.  I'm more of a 16 or 33 and a third kind of practitioner.  I kept up as best I could, modifying where I needed to with my still healing, torn right knee meniscus, and chronic RA.  Panting and sweating I even managed to thank the instructor for a lovely class. (liar, liar)

But my graciousness, par usual, paid off when I again met the drill sergeant in the locker room.  We chatted and I learned she is a High School English teacher in ABQ (see how handy that abbreviation is?) and she has been struggling to get the kids to tolerate poetry.  I was so happy to impart my suggestions on how to get young people to read poetry, even though my own children in their teenage years would eye roll every time a rhyme left my lips.  Once more I tell the secret of my sequester and her reaction is another confirmation that I may be on to something with my self-imposed looming project.

Next up is the best place to talk about poetry.  The New Mexico Poetry Society meeting in ABQ. (told you!)  This was a lively group, with much attendee participation.  A wonderful workshop on The Orality of Poetry.  If I lived closer I would attend this group every month.  And the best part was that at the conclusion of the workshop, my car was exactly where I'd left it.  Ready to take me back to Santa Fe.

It is here that I usually sign off by saying time to write. Not tonight.  Tonight it is time to rest, put my feet up and find the heating pad!

Jane