Kerry: how’s your garden?
me: Man
I’m never going to eat all these cucumbers
Kerry: make ice cream
or lotion
me: pickles
That’s my plan for next week
Meredith loves em
Kerry: pickles!
Awesome.
You could give them as xmas gifts
“Fancy Baltimore Pickles”
me: LMFAO
Indeed
Kerry: make that “Avelino’s Fancy Baltimore Pickles”
put peppers in with them
“Avelino’s Spicy Baltimore Pickles”
you’ll have  a pickle empire
“Avelino’s Spicy B’more Pickles, Hon”
me: I’ll just convert the whole plot to cucumbers and peppers (and chiles) next year
Kerry: I’ll design the packaging
that would be amazing.
cukes & chiles
me: haha
Kerry: Fiery Pickles
so much potential.
me: the name works perfect too
Kerry: of course, you’ll have to grow a beard.
me: Of course
Kerry: And the bottles need to be oddly shaped.  None of that pickle jar nonsense.
me: Dude
Chile-shaped jars
Kerry: awesome
chile shaped cucumbers!
me: though that might not be easy to store
hahaha
Kerry: with red dye
man. We may have a hit on our hands

It’s been a rough couple of weeks in many ways, but above all, there’s this: My grandma Marie passed away just after her 77th birthday. I’ll be heading home to Silver City this weekend to attend funeral services. Since she was diagnosed with leukemia in December, my thoughts have often turned to her. Her passing has only amplified that effect.

I’ve remarked before that the only hard part of leaving Silver City to move to Washington/Baltimore was leaving my grandmothers behind. Both of these women had an inexplicable impact on my life: My grandma Flora helped raise my sister and I when we were young. In what I could call my more formative years, I forged a relationship with my grandma Marie, a friendship I’d never known I could have.

I don’t know if her passing is just pressing on my mind or what, but I’m noticing things, remembering things that make me think of her. In the supermarket on Monday, Meredith and I saw a family who were checking out using a government check. They were marking off the items that their fixed income check would provide, and I couldn’t help but think of the many times in her life that my grandmother struggled to feed her family. She was never what one could consider wealthy, but she stretched every bit of income the family generated. She told me stories of her youth, of washing the laundry of richer families and lugging it around her neighborhood and the city of Bernalillo. She told me the precious value that a penny could hold for a child in those times, and why a dime could mean so much to her family.

It’s easy in our modern society to lose site of the truly important matters in our lives. You needn’t look further than the Story of Stuff or the nightly news to understand how that happens. But watching that family check out with their $15 worth of groceries really jolted me. I recalled my grandma Marie and her mantra of always having something to eat in the kitchen: Often a pot of frijoles and a pile of tortillas (though, if you ever ate either, you wouldn’t say ‘only’). But it was there. She fed my father, sister and I after church every Sunday, and she also welcomed my high-school buddies for lunch every few weeks with open arms and a friendly smile. And, as if she didn’t have enough grandchildren already, many of my friends were often in her thoughts and prayers. My grandma last year rejoiced when Harmony was married and at the news that she was expecting a baby.

Grandma Marie was a pious woman, selfless and humble. If anybody could demonstrate how to live without regard to their material lives, it was her. She enjoyed the simplest of pleasures: a long phone call from a friend; her novellas (and certain American soaps as well); a Cowboys victory on Sunday afternoon. She was the one who taught me the value of shopping with coupons, of finding the bargains. Grandma Marie was also the woman who taught me that family comes first.

Many of these lessons occurred between 2003-2005, when I had left California and returned to Silver City, pretty much with my tail between my legs. But I had my family: my father was gracious in letting me have my old room, and my aunts and uncles helped me look for a job. Perhaps most welcoming of all, however, were my grandmothers. Flora and Marie, so similar and yet so different. While much of my father’s family had remained in the Grant County area, my mother and her siblings had all moved away. Grandma Flora’s closest family is my Aunt Margie, in Alamogordo. There now comes her grandson, living in town once again. We watched Wheel of Fortune together, and went hiking at Little Walnut. We met for lunch once I had a steady job and played dominoes every few weeks.

I wasn’t yet so close to my Grandma Marie, and really, I don’t know how our friendship started. Somehow, however, two things were happening on a regular basis: I was driving her to the grocery store, or to her doctors appointments, and I was stopping by her house every morning after class. These were the years that set me on my path to Washington: the chance encounters at WNMU, and the job at the student newspaper. Next, the internship with Sen. Bingaman, followed by a stint at KNFT as news director. Quitting school, to work full time, and then quitting the radio business to write for the Daily Press.

It started with the 4 a.m. mornings, driving to Arenas Valley to record the morning news. Sometimes I left in time to catch the sunrise, though I mostly hung out at the station waiting for my morning class to begin. But every day, after class, I’d head to my grandma’s house. I’d arrive in time to see The Price is Right. I’d have some lunch (usually the aforementioned beans and tortillas), and catch the news. We’d watch the Young and the Restless, and then, exhausted, I’d pass out on her couch.

More times than I’d care to admit, I wouldn’t wake up in time for my afternoon class.

The pattern continued after I stopped school, and when I was working full time at the Daily Press. Her house was a 5-minute walk, and that left more than enough time to eat lunch and grab a quick nap. What did stop were the trips to Wal-Mart and the Food Basket and the Dollar Store. We weren’t going to the doctor’s office any longer. I had a full-time job, and couldn’t take off the time.

Those trips are what I remember most fondly, partly because I think she was in her element, but also because it was time we spent alone with one another. She cracked jokes constantly: about Silver City’s bad drivers, and the guy who couldn’t steer his cart at the Wal-Mart. I remember the staples: blocks of cheese, bags of potatoes, generic, store-brand Kool Aid. We’d lookout for good frozen chile, and search for a deal on ground beef.

I also remember those stories of life in northern New Mexico, of the boy who drowned in the arroyo, and the rush to get to the hospital when my father was being born (it almost happened in the elevator). She told me the story about my dad’s nickname (Shorty) and the day he insisted she call him thus. I remember the day he told me that she was once known as the Whistling Waitress—a connection I cherished, as I whistled all the time.

Reflecting on those days has brought back so many memories, also and reinforced some thoughts I’ve had since moving to the big city. Namely: I’ve got it pretty damn good. Like anyone, I have problems. But wow if my problems pale in comparison to my friend Leah, who is doing an incredible job as a single mom raising her son, this bright young kid with a physical disability. My problems are nothing like those of the blind woman who rides the MARC train with me every day. My problems are nothing like that family a the grocery store on Monday night.

And more than anything else, I think that is what my grandma Marie embodied: She didn’t complain about the little stuff, or the big stuff for that matter. She felt so blessed to have a large and loving family. I can’t imagine going through life visually impaired, but she was blind in one eye. It hardly slowed her down. Every morning that I woke up at 4 a.m., she was already going, rolling tortillas and getting the house ready.

I don’t know: I guess I just needed a little perspective, something to pull me back from the daily buzz and grind of life. I need to remember my job is not my life. I need a comfy couch to rest on, a good story about a simpler, harder life. I need that incredible smile, and that “God bless you” as I walk away.

Yes, I’m an e-mail attachment idiot. The embarrassment doesn’t stop there, however. Kerry sent the above around to my coworkers, and in an attempt to explain myself I replied to everybody saying I was using Gmail’s “Forgotten Attachment Detector,” (yes, I forget attachments often).

Except I didn’t hit “Reply All,” I just hit “Reply.” So, Kerry made a wisecrack, and I had to admit to him that I was trying to send the message to everybody:

I’m going to step away from the computer now, before I hurt myself.

Life is good.

And then I have days like last Thursday.

Every once in awhile, I remember that I’m living in Washington D.C., working with some of the most intelligent and dedicated people in the world, trying to make the government more responsive to our fellow citizens. Thursday was one of those days. Lemme walk you through it:

• At 2:15, I left for the Fox News studio, where my colleague John Wonderlich was being interviewed for a Sky News segment on President Obama’s online town hall meeting.
• At 3:30, we stopped in the Dirksen Building for a quick snack (I had a brownie and chocolate milk).
• At 4 p.m., we met with two Senate staffers to discuss open government, transparency, new media, and online engagement in an Government 2.0 world.
• At 6 (off the clock, I suppose), we joined a couple of different staffers and an technology journalist for dinner, again discussing the aforementioned topics.
• We later walked from the restaurant, past the Capitol and the Library of Congress at dusk, to a rooftop overlooking the city. We had a couple of drinks and kept the conversation going.

Like I said, every once in awhile it hits me just how lucky I am to be doing what I do. And, in no small way, it’s because of many of you reading this blog. So, thank you very much.

Instructions here: Wikipedia Names Your Band.

Wikipedia article: Totally Hip Hop.
Random Quote: Albert Einstein.
Photo by Flickr user Bashed.

1. Gabriela
2. Claire
3. and Barb

So, I’m getting in touch with all three to see which photo they want printed out. Congratulations to them.

Sadly, I did not make the list of exhibitors at this year’s event. Oh well, I’ll give it my best try next year. Thank you all again so much for helping me out.

Before you begin
You’ll need the following supplies:

1. Pine cones. Lots and lots of pine cones. You’ll need a variety as well. You’ll want big ones to cover large swaths of space, medium sized to connect the larger ones, and small ones to fill in any holes. Typically, in New Mexico, we’d use 4-6 different varieties. We scoured Arlington, Alexandria and Washington D.C. to pick ours, and it took a couple of days. If you’re in New Mexico, it should take a couple of hours max. If you don’t want to pick them yourself, some craft stores sell bundles of pine cones. Remember, you want to check whether they have a variety.
2. A straw wreath form – you can see an example here. We found ours at Michaels.
3. Hot glue gun and hot glue. It’s best to stock up on the glue – you might end up using quite a bit, but regardless you always need hot glue, right? Also, splurge on the hot glue gun. The cheaper ones might leak glue out the side, or won’t have even glue flow. It’s a lot safer to spend a few more bucks.
4. Clear acrylic gloss of the spray-can variety.
5. Old newspapers.
6. Neosporin (I swear I burn myself every time I make one of these).
7. Just in case you think I’m joking, read these instructions on determining the whether a burn is minor or requires medical attention.

Optional stuff:

1. Some form of colorful bobble: we used miniature ornaments on the wreath above.
2. Fabric poinsettias: I actually shot the above picture before we affixed two white poinsettias.
3. A door hanger: if you’re giving it as a gift, you want them to be able to hang it right away!

Instructions
Prepare your work area by spreading out the newspapers. We use several layers to make sure the glue doesn’t reach the table or counter top (wherever you might be working). Remove the plastic sheeting from the wreath form. Also, get your pine cones out of their bag/container, and plug in your glue gun.

NOTE: Please demonstrate extra care while handling hot glue guns and hot glue. As stated before, every time I’ve made one of these I’ve burned myself. I’m 29 years old; be especially careful if you’re doing this with kids.

So, from here, you’re basically letting your creative self take the driver seat. Take a pine cone, squeeze some hot glue on its side or bottom, and hold it in place on the wreath. Grab another pine cone, and repeat. And again. And again.

I like to just grab whichever pine cone is closest, or whichever one I have my eye on, and glue it on. My mother is a bit more methodical – she’ll plan it out a bit better.  I like to use glue sparingly, and reinforce the pine cones by gluing pieces to one another. My mom, will use a lot of glue and rely on that to hold it to the form. Regardless, you’ll eventually start to fill out the wreath, and you want to cover most of it. Leave the back (which should be flat to hang against the door) clear.

IF YOU BURN YOURSELF: If the burn is mild, say, you dripped some glue on your finger or hand, run the affected area under cool water for at least five minutes (first aid instructions here). Then cover it with a bandage. If you’ve really, really burned yourself, seek immediate medical attention.

Once you’re done gluing the pine cones, you’re getting ready to finish the wreath. If you bought ornaments or other colorful decorations, feel free to glue them on now (but save the poinsettias until later). Unplug your glue guns. Take your wreath outdoors, and spray it with two coats of clear acrylic gloss (wait 15 minutes in between coats). Try to keep dust or sand from blowing on the wreath while the gloss is wet.

After the second coat is dry, you’re pretty much done. Make any last-minute additions (like the poinsettias), but otherwise you’re good to go.

Afterthoughts
Feel free to deviate from the materials – we use pine cones because they vary in size, shape, and color, but they’re still pine cones. You can add other materials as you see fit – make it your own! And send me your photos.

These really do make great gifts. They’ll last for years, and materials costs aren’t outrageous. They have the homemade feel that really shows you put some thought and care into the gift, and the recipient will remember it every time they hang it out on the door.

Chino Mine in southwestern New Mexico will lay off three quarters of its employees early next year because of a sharp decline in copper prices.

Chino’s parent company, Freeport-McMoRan, announced Wednesday it plans to suspend mining and milling activities at Chino, but will continue reclamation activities and copper production from its SX-EW plant.

Man, that is not a good sign. More later…