ME. MOM. AND DAD. IN SANTA FE

It’s Friday night, and I just got back from my Christmas in Santa Fe. I am dogless, kidless and, oh yes, parentless. Whew.

The trip to Santa Fe with my parents was nice. I’ll give you a few details, but let me start by venting a bit. I knew this going in, but my dad is just getting old – or at least he sure acts old (he’s not 70 yet!). I vowed when I started this blog that I wouldn’t ream on friends or relatives, so I’ll try to keep my comments mild. We all laughed the day we got there because Dad decided to wear my grandmother’s fluffy mink earmuffs he had found at home along with a ball cap. Nice.

I can say with great confidence that the keeping-up-with-things neurons in Dad’s brain have totally burned out. At some point or another during the three-day trip he spent time (with much angst) looking for, in no particular order: his shoes, cell phone, gloves, mink earmuffs, hat, gloves, hearing aids, brushes, scarf, gloves, coat, room key and house key.

The other thing that got under my skin was the incessant - and incorrect - use of the “do what?” Lack of hearing? Lack of focus? I’m not sure, but every time you spoke to him, the first words out of his mouth were “do what?” As in:
“Our reservations are for 7 tonight”
“Do what?”
“Did you see all of that snow?”
“Do what?”
”Have you found your freakin' gloves yet?”
“Do what?”
“For the love of god, could you quit saying ‘do what’?”
“.......Do what?”

OK. Enough of that. Our room was small, but good – great view and very cool to have a fireplace in the room.

On Christmas Eve, we took the pilgrimage that all tourists in Santa Fe on Christmas Eve take: the march down Canyon Road. If you Google "Canyon Road in Santa Fe", you get more than 400,000 results, and every travel book raves about Christmas Eve on Canyon Road. Here’s how one Web site describes it:

One of Santa Fe's most beloved ways of celebrating the holiday season, the Canyon Road Farolito Walk lights up the hearts and souls of the crowds that walk this famous road every Christmas Eve. Small bags filled with sand contain votive candles that softly glow on this magical night as they line the neighborhood streets and adobe walls. Carolers spontaneously gather around luminarios, or small bonfires, and sing for joy as they warm themselves from the cold night.

Here’s what we experienced: a mass of people walking up a road, and then turning around and walking back down the road. No “carolers spontaneously gathered”, no “small bonfires,” no "singing for joy." One person was selling cider, and we did see a flame thrower dressed as Jesus. That was about it. We did get to traipse through snow (pretty cool for us Texans), and we did laugh about what a letdown it was.

Later that night we went to our hotel’s bar where it was apparently AARP night, with the piano player playing the requests, which included Moon River and My Funny Valentine. No joke. We did get her to play a few Christmas songs, because, oh yeah, IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE.

Christmas Day, we enjoyed a massive brunch where I ate more meat/protein than I have probably eaten in the past two years. Very nice. Mom and I ate dinner in a bar that night – sad to say it was not our first time to eat Christmas dinner in a bar. Today, we drove around in the snow and then headed to the airport.

It was a good Christmas, but certainly as I sat in the El Chico-esque bar eating nachos with my parents on Christmas Eve and as I read my 15th magazine on Christmas Day and as I spoke to my son for about five minutes over the three-day span, I was reminded THIS IS NOT HOW IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE!