Tag: Mexico

  • Tweak Locally, Think Globally

    Green is the new watchword for consumer products and goods.
    We can track our carbon footprints, find out how many miles our food traveled
    to our plates, and make a point only to have toe-curling
    carnal gymnastics with Prius drivers
    — so why do we insist on persecuting
    those entrepreneurial souls
    trying to provide a local option to area
    pot-heads, tweakers, and cuddle-puddlers?

    Despite law enforcement’s best efforts, as much as 80 percent
    of drugs in Minnesota arrive from warmer
    climes, especially Mexico.
    This, of course, begs the question as to why illegal immigrants are demonized
    while most of the folks causing cross-border shenanigans are happy to leave the
    country upon making their deliveries, with a stop in Tijuana for a relaxing day
    at the spa, and perhaps a donkey show. It also represents a vexing conundrum.
    In a world where we supporting our local farmers is a nigh-Stalinistic
    directive, where people trade in their SUVs for effete gas-sipping roller skates,
    and where food labels have become nightmarish non-Euclidean landscapes with
    organic designations and seals of approval handed down by eldritch beings older
    than time itself, why do people not pump more money into our local economy by
    tweaking locally as well?

    Instead of jailing these entrepreneurial souls, where
    they’re more than certain to make recreational pharmaceuticals for penal
    distribution from a slurry of toilet water, Kool Aid, powdered laundry detergent and tears, we should be celebrating them. Don’t look at it as 18.4 pounds of illicit narcotics. We should view it as 18.4 pounds of premium Minnesota agriculture. And not only do these enterprising young men
    reduce the carbon footprint of Minnesotan addicts, but they also contribute to
    geopolitical stability. If we choose local drugs, we reduce demand for narcotic
    happiness from Mexico.
    In turn, this reduces the power of Mexican drug kingpins, allowing police in Northern Mexico to have something vaguely resembling hope
    in their war on drugs. On the other hand, anything
    that keeps chubby prepubescent boys gainfully employed
    while getting some
    exercise can’t be all bad.

    Regardless, this new sustainable approach to drugs will
    yield benefits all around. The quality of product will likely rise, as the meth
    flowing through the border is only about 70 to 75 percent pure — American
    craftsmanship always wins out in the end. It’s better for the environment, as
    shipping is dramatically decreased and trucks won’t be crashing through
    pristine wilderness areas during high speed chases with the border patrol or Captain
    Planet
    . Plus, it keeps money in the local economy. Millions of dollars that
    once flowed south will stay in Minnesotan coffers, enriching Best Buy, Target,
    local liquor stores, chemical supply warehouses, and local weapons dealers
    throughout the metro area and beyond.

    Not to mention another benefit — with increased need for
    drug enforcement, Minneapolis and Saint Paul will have more reason to exercise
    the loopholes in the new
    property tax cap
    that allow the cities to raise property taxes beyond the
    limit to pay for new police officers. This call for additional peace officers
    reduces unemployment and underemployment, plus provides more news for the
    ailing newspaper industry to cover, what with the increased prevalence of
    neighborhood meth lab explosions, police shoot outs and high speed chases.

    And with the plight of the family farmer constantly in the
    news, this push for a more sustainable drug trade couldn’t come at a more
    opportune time. Ready access to fertilizer, ample tillable land and isolated
    homesteads with few nosy neighbors investigating odd smells mean huge windfalls for
    enterprising farmers looking to capitalize on the new craze. Buffalo,
    MN could potentially be Minnesota’s next boom town — reaping not
    only economic benefits, but rapid increases in diversity, local entertainment,
    and notoriety.

    Of course, these benefits would not be without drawbacks.
    The surburban traffic that once passed through Minneapolis’
    less savory neighborhoods in search of their fix would move north to Buffalo. And if there’s
    one thing no man should wish on his neighbor, it’s an influx of people from
    Lakeville.

  • The Greatest Gift: The Unknown

    It should come as no surprise at this point, to regular readers of my blog, that I am not shy about sharing with you what makes me… ME.

    This morning I saw a DVD that I had been waiting for, sitting on my counter in the kitchen — images from my family’s Zip Lining experience in Mexico four months ago.

    What got to me were these two photos:

    These pictures were taken 350 feet up in the air, with nothing more than our trust in the guides that supplied us with the equipment and our belief that we could enjoy the beauty of what was beneath — Rocks, Trees, Rain, Bugs, and god forbid… the unknown — all at just $35 per person. 🙂

    Is it not the greatest gift to watch the people you brought into the world through love, make choices that you wished you had had the guts to make, but never did?

    In My case… well… it took me until now (at 40 years old). But in my kids case… well… you can see from the pics that they don’t have the legs of a 40-year-old. 🙂

    There is only one area in which I still have to work really hard on at this point with my kids—who understand that everything their Mom and Dad do is simply a byproduct of Dad doing what he has to do and Mom doing what she has to do. We are who we are.

    But it’s hard to explain to them how a 40-year-old woman who has experienced so much can topple under the weight at times — how my brain goes into overdrive to the point where eating, sleeping, and functioning do not come to me in the same way they do to most. This is a difficult thing to explain to my two most important reasons for living, to my two most important and loving gifts — my son and my daughter — to whom I am so lucky to be Mom.

    Last night on 60 Minutes I watched a report that kept me up most of the night.

     

    The report was about a sacred area, foreign to most of us in America. A part of the world where nature is untouched by all things we think we can’t live without. A place where the sounds of the rain hitting the leaves cannot be duplicated with musical instruments, where a never-before-seen male bird turns from a little shy guy into fricken BATMAN to woo a female bird — and to top off the whole incredible experience the male bird gives the female bird 20 minutes on a small dark branch in the middle of nowhere after spending 23 hours building a stack of branches and laying out a variety of colorful rocks just to get her attention. And if he’s lucky…

    It was too much for my brain to handle — and also too much for me to try to explain to my son and daughter that no matter what happens in life and how many chances we make, we should always look forward to the unknown. The one thing about nature that will never change is that it will always be the one place that we all, as humans, can’t control but can admire.


    To the Men and Woman that will not understand this short story:
    I have no comment.
    To the Men and Woman that do get this short story: it’s about time!
    To my Son: If you have to wear a colorful coat and dance for the girl of your dreams, it’s worth it.
    To my Daughter: If you have to wear a colorful coat and dance for the man of your dreams, it’s worth it.

     

  • I'm Baaaaaaaack…

    Well, I am back from my cruise on the Mexican Riveria with my in-laws, and this vacation made my Top 5 for A LOT of reasons: beautiful weather, zip lining, and not one fight. Ok, well, maybe just ONE…

    I was a little nervous about going on this trip, because I had already decided — after "enjoying" a visit now and then to a casino — that it is in my best interest not to gamble. The first night at sea, there it was: THE CASINO, through which I had to travel for all my family meals. I knew I was in trouble!

    This whole damn thing started when I was only around 10 years old. During a family trip to Lake Tahoe, I wandered into a casino and hid in a corner to watch the adults play. I wanted in. So I paged Mr. M with an emergency phone call and told Mr. M to please put my five dollar bill down on lucky 17 at the roulette table.

    The pit bosses chased me out, of course, but Mr. M remained agreeable. I waited patiently in the hotel room to find out if my number came up.

    Well… Mr. M had been in the midst of a serious winning streak, and to be perfectly honest, my call threw his whole game off. So, after what seemed like an hour, Mr. M came up to my room and handed me back my five dollar bill, along with another five dollars in exchange for my promise to never page him again without a real emergency. He also asked that I stay in the hotel room until the adults were back and warned me NOT to spend my profit but to SAVE it for a rainy day.

    To ensure that I would not lose my original $5, he gave them to me in the form of a chip, which I, of course, could not cash in at the casino.

    When the coast was clear, I was off to the hotel gift shop to see what I could get with my five dollar chip and my new-found wealth of five bucks cash. And there they were, my VERY first PURCHASE, two of the biggest dice I had ever seen.

    I walked up to the cashier and purchased the big dice. When I tried to use the
    chip to buy another pair for my best friend Annie, the lady pointed out that I was not an adult so I could not use that five dollar chip. Well, I had tried… I ran back to the room with my giant dice and my five dollar chip.

    When Mr. M walked in the room — still not too thrilled with my "emergency page" — he told me to give him back the five dollar chip and my five bucks cash, and that he would hold it for me until the trip was over.


    Shit! What do I say?

    All I could think to say was that I had lost the cash, but that I still had the chip.

    "How could you lose $5 sitting in a hotel room?” he asked.

    With my best poker face I told him that I went down the hall to get some ice and somehow lost the bill. He knew I was lying, and I could tell, but I was determined to get home with my new big dice, which I had hidden in my luggage.

    Back in the comfort of my own home, settled into my bed, I finally took out the big red dice and felt horrible! Back and fourth in my head I tried to figure out how I could explain myself to — you guessed it — Mr. M,
    a.k.a. My Father, to whom I had lied. All I wanted was to be like all of
    the hot shot adults.

    At about 2 o’clock in the morning, after a lot of tossing and turning, I
    went into my parents room and fessed up about the whole thing. But rather than yelling and screaming at me, my parents simply asked me to please learn from the experience and understand that gambling is very serious and that is why it is not legal until you are AN ADULT.

    I learned all right, but when I flew to Las Vegas for the first time with my husband — already Legal, of course — I put a dollar into the first slot machine I saw in the airport after we landed and WON a jackpot.

    Who wins jackpots at the airport? Apparently, this genetic lottery
    winner.

    After years of being ridiculously lucky in casinos, however, my time was up.

    So… back to why there was a little fight on the family vacation.

    The second to last night, at the beginning of dinner, I told my husband that I was going up to the room to get a sweater, but I could not control myself any longer…

    I made my way toward the room, and before I knew it I was singing "mama needs a new pair of shoes" with my new gambling friends (who were college guys from USC and U of A) at the craps table. Every time I threw the dice — bada bing — my pile of chips would grow in front of ME and the guys, along with a fantastic new version of "Momma Melly just got all of our moms a new pair of shoes." I thought to myself, "Howard is going to kill me." But, hey, I had just made a lot of money.

    An hour later, I walked back to the dinner table (without my sweater) to
    see the look of complete dismay on my husband’s face, and even worse, on my kids’ faces.
    I handed Howard the cash and felt that same sick feeling that I felt when I lied the first time about gambling.
    It was NOW official: all the fun, all the cash, and even the great new cruise ship song of "Melly just bought all of our Moms new shoes" were not worth the price of disappointment that I had bestowed on my loved ones.

    The reason for the picture of the donkey and I is to show you a visual
    of how I felt after that one and only fight:

    Picture the donkey the other way around.

    The last night of the trip, when my brother-in-law Joel tried to get me to play poker with him I proudly said, "no thanks." Then I went back to the room with my forgiving husband and fell asleep in his arms to the sound of the rocking waves, the smell of the fresh clean air, and memories of all the fun things we did on our family vacation.

    I will share those pics with you when I receive them from my niece
    Katy.

    "Momma Melly" is officially in retirement right now, deleting all e-mails from college guys at USC and the University of Arizona.