Mr. Roger's Ghetto

I'm not wearing wool cardigans or leather loafers, but my neighborhood, however notorious, is straight out of Mr. Roger's -- with some rated R elements (frequent drug deals, toothless neighbors, homeless people, and meth addicts stumbling though the streets).

What New Mexicans lack in intellect, they make up for in kindness. In terms of its people, it's the polar opposite of NYC. In NYC, there are lots of bitchy, busy, self-involved smart people. In New Mexico, most of the folks I encounter aren't headed to Harvard, but they're so FRIKKIN' NICE!

Cases-in-point:

*Homeless people say hello -- w/o asking for change

*My REALTOR and her husband, who I've never met, helped me move in. So did my former colleague, Cathy, and her husband. In NYC, I was always reticent to ask anyone for any kind of help, b/c most everybody -- including me -- was always too busy to give it. Not that I don't love NYC and the people who live there. I do. But 'burque - and NM, in general - is less self-involved, less pretentious, less harried than most other cities. Albuquerque has a gritty underbelly that I admire. It's still transforming, still kind of nasty and quirky, still down-to-earth and totally charming.

I love when I wake up and the sun and the moon, both, are still up in the sky. So cool. Even in the ghetto, it's fucking gorgeous.

I'm in love with my electric sander. I used it last night, for the first time, and sanded the walls to my (future) bedroom (filthy, blue, and stucco -- yuck!) while wearing a cashmere cardigan and a dust mask. Sledgehammer chic.