Santa Fe, NM

	Dateline: The road to Santa Fe, NM, May 15 What we looked at most of the day. Boring drive. Boring boring boring boring... HEY WAIT - IS THAT THE CADILLAC RANCH? (And I had the wrong camera when we passed it.) Other than ferocious cross winds, it was a nice day for a prairie drive.
	Dateline: The road to Santa Fe, NM, May 15 New Mexico has great tourist crap. Ch-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-r-g-e it!
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 15 Home. (We're the door on the right.)
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 15 RoadPuppy going off to do a little sightseeing on her own. (Actually, smellsniffing would be more accurate.)
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 15 Blogging.
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 16 Found in our closet. Get it? Get it?
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 16 Things like this were everywhere, so it was with considerable relief that I found ...
	... this in a grocery store. This company makes a line of potholders that puncture all the new-age hoohaw rampant in Santa Fe.
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 16 We tried to take RoadPuppy to the local dog park, but all the other dogs were big border collie-like dogs, and RoadPuppy looks a little too much like a sheep. She doesn't think so, and we never talk about it in her presence, so please keep this information to yourself. Nice mountains, though.
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 16 Hey Shawntel: it's Mickey Moose!
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 16 Sante Fe is the Wonderful World of Adobe. EVERYTHING is made of adobe - banks, pizza parlors, gas stations, homes. Cute? Quaint? Historical? Or just a building code gone horribly wrong? And you can't swing a dead yoga instructor in this city without hitting an art gallery. Santa Fe has worked extremely hard to put the fartsy in artsy. In fact...
	Dateline: Santa Fe, NM, May 16 We went to a play called "Keyholes" by a group of mimes trained in France, where the ushers "help" the audience know when to applaud, if you catch my drift. It consisted of 8 short pieces, including a "deconstruction" of "Twelfth Night," (which focussed on the servants, and not so much on all that silly dialogue), a bit of Chekhov (spoken - mimes should be seen and not heard), the oligatory Irish ghost story (incomprehensibly rendered with Cirque de Soleil leprechauns) and a strange interlude with an Italian stereotype character doing a bad Marlon Brando talking about what a great show he was in. I swear, if I don't get out of this silly town soon, I'm going to join the NRA and start blastin'.