DOG DAYS and AL GORE

I find it interesting how my posts this week are growing organically from one to the other from some hidden place. After having written about the "dog days" of summer, I'm reminded of yet another story from my week in Santa Fe.

Just prior to the start of the Glen Workshop, Santa Fe hosted the annual Spanish Market and Contemporary Hispanic Market in the Plaza and surrounding streets. It was a colorful event with simply amazing art and delicious food that made my wallet, but not my waist, significantly thinner.

The side benefit of this art event was the wide array of foodstuffs available from all sorts of stands and carts. It must be all those youthful days spent at carnivals and county fairs that brings it out in me, but I find roasted corn to be an undeniable treat. And so, I made my way to the corn vendor, plunked down my money and savored the smell of my favorite vegetable dripping in hot butter (YUM!) . There was a nice little area set aside in a downtown parking lot with chairs and tables and umbrellas where one could sit, eat, and watch the parade of humanity pass by.

Just as I was finishing my corn, a woman in a GORE2000 T-shirt passed by. Considering the current national state of affairs, I wistfully began to dream of how different life would now be had those paper "chads" not "hung" in Florida as they did. After claiming a spot at a nearby table, I watched the woman look furtively for her friends or relations. But it was not humans this woman was awaiting - it was the most adorable rust-colored dachshund puppy being lovingly toted in a soft carrier by what I assumed was the woman's adult son. No infant child (well, maybe one) could have been more warmly welcomed into a "parent's" loving arms.

At this point, sitting on a card table chair, holding a thoroughly chewed ear of corn and smiling idiotically, it's no wonder that the woman looked over at me. But soon I detected her glance shift from my face to my ear of corn. In a moment of grand illumination that I'm sure Santa Fe hasn't seen since the atomic scientists working at 109 Palace Avenue during World War II discovered fission (or was it fusion?), the GORE2000 woman and I struck upon the same idea at the same time - wouldn't this darling puppy just love to chew on that ear of corn? She had barely opened her mouth when I began to rise from my chair and deliberately walk over to her. Barely a word needed to be spoken between us except for her to say, his name is "Kevin." And so, a little dog shall lead them, by tiny paw steps (wait...his feet never touched the ground!), into the ecological world of recycling ears of corn. Al Gore would be so proud!