We finally took a break from moving, packing, cleaning, moving, packing, cleaning, driving, packing, cleaning, unpacking...and went down to Santa Fe to hear Dumstaphunk. The 90-minute drive each way was more than worth it. Ivan Neville's band has some New Orleans funk dynastic stalwarts: Nick Daniels, Tony Hall (yep, two bass players. Kip liked it a whole real lot.), and Art's son Ian Neville on guitar. (Ivan looks more like Art and Ian looks more like Charles.) This was bonebreaking funk, stanky to the core and not for the novice. There were moments during the show when I felt like I was back on the Riverboat President watching the Neville Brothers just before Mardi Gras. I can't believe there are assholes out there (I have tried to teach them...) who would prefer that New Orleans be left to rot. Without NOLA this country would have a big fat zero where its soul is supposed to be. Took ANOTHER break (shame on us) to walk around our new neighborhood in El Rito, NM. So different from Western New York; everyone waves--instead of tailgating and passing on the right with a growling, testosterone-induced acceleration. Hey, they have somewhere important to go--NOW!! And YOU ARE IN THE WAY!!! (My green energy/economic solution for W. New York drivers was to invent a car that could run on RAGE...but I never got around to it.) So...did I mention we live in the Carson National Forest? I am going to try to post some pictures to the photo gallery, but it takes me a while because I ate the paint & rust off our turquoise Ford station wagon when I was a little kid. So I am slow at some things. I like turquoise. This valley is between the Jemez and Sangre de Cristo mountains. I don't get my usual mountain claustrophobia here, perhaps because of the altitude. It is very shimmery and bright. Until sundown when it is orange and pink, then all of a sudden purple and dark. We passed by a historic church that had been restored. The yard on the side featured a grotto with "Nuestra Senora" statues and plastic roses and glittery blue paint. I might donate our cross-shaped piece of driftwood. Kip says we should donate it at Chimayo. That might be better since we could maybe get healed while we are there. We both have colds. On the other paw, it might be best to go soak ourselves in the hot springs at Ojo Caliente. Anyone know Spanish? Does that mean "Hot Eye?" Martin's General Store closed in August. You can peer in the window and see dusty jars of Salsa and kites that used to be for sale. Mostly empty shelves with a can of Prestone or two and some old bags of peanuts. The price on the gas pump out front is $2.79 per gallon. The place is for rent. At the post office, Marabella told us that they could not compete with Walmart once the economy tanked. So people were more willing to drive half an hour south to get their canned beans and tires. That thing about Walmart ruining small-town America by killing Mom & Pop stores? Republicans will tell you that those stores would have closed anyway. But that is a lie. It happened here and we saw it. Still we must go to Walmart this afternoon. No longer snooty boycotters, we have circled the wagon (well we used to have a wagon) around our dog who wants biscuits--NOW. But...I can see the potential: someone needs to rent Martin's and open a joint that sells TEXAS HOTS and DUMSPSTA PLATES. Oh and excuse me by the way, we have been through Espanola every day for about a week and all we've seen is ONE lousy low-rider. This is supposed to be the low rider capital. (Cue cowbell and harmonica...) Ride on, fair northern friends. Other than missing her kin and compadres, yer gal is happy to be back in the South.