by Albo P Fossa ✍ September 6th, 2012
It’s Santa Fe Fiesta time. Zozobra (Old Man Gloom) has burned, taking with him the year’s sorrows and disappointments of many folks. Time to celebrate!
Heck, us too! I threw away two years of anxiety over a chance return of HPV. My last medical exam was
unremarkable. It struck me as double edged, in a way. Unremarkable? Sounds kind of bland and so-so. But it’s Doctor-speak for
okeedokee, I was told,
…which is really pretty good for someone your age. (Oof! Can’t get a kind word out of a Doctor…guy’s got a wry sense of humor. Heck, he’s been around more blocks than I have.)
Fiesta’s the first weekend after Labor Day. This year, Old Man Gloom competed for air time with President Obama at the DNC. (I think the burning of Zozobra may have won: Obama will go into re-runs.) Fiesta’s a time for gathering on the plaza, maybe having a greasy Frito pie, chancing into friends one hasn’t seen for awhile (or distant acquaintances: names long forgotten), and gawking at the odd clothing folks love to wear for the occasion. (One year, we saw an
over-amply endowed figure dressed in—opaque, of course—plastic wrap.)
And, in a way, Fiesta’s a last grasp at summer, as the autumn harvest has begun. Green chile roasters have already brought their delicious odor to the Santa Fe air. It’s the time of year to fetch freezers-full of the good green stuff to last through the cold days ahead. (I suppose the professional food distributors will take care of some of that task for us!)
So we’ll celebrate. I spent the past three days going back through this
unremarkable blog, looking for dead links here. And I got my
unremarkable prognosis. Time for a Frito pie!
¡Qué viva! (Get it? Viva?) Yeah,
unremarkable. I can live with that.