Day 3: Be Careful, You'll Become Soup

We left all of our traveling companions behind when we headed north to Truth or Consequences, NM on Sunday morning. The itinerary for T or C started when I looked at a Google map of the area. (This is just another way in which Google acts all Helpy McHelperson and then you find yourself driving 45 miles into the middle of nowhere just because the name of the town sounds cool.)

A little history for this drizzly Saturday afternoon:
T or C, as it is known to the locals, is a spa village and was originally named Hot Springs, NM. When the hit radio quiz show announced they would air the program from the first town that renamed itself after the show, the residents of "Hot Springs" took a vote. A vote that would forever pique the interest of travelers gazing at Google maps...thinking what an interesting name for a town. They MUST have interesting people, interesting food, interesting shopping. So...not so much. But more on that in a moment.

Ralph Edwards, the host of Truth or Consequences (the show, not the town...I can see how all of this would get confusing), visited the town during the first weekend in May for the next 50 years. It became known as "Fiesta" and included a beauty contest, a parade, and a stage show. The town continues to celebrate "Fiesta" and usually features some B actor and, of course, the Hatch Chile Queen. Do you know what else happens the first weekend in May? Derby. The Kentucky Derby. It is understandable that I had never heard of "Fiesta" until we saw the wall of celebrity photos at the Geronimo Springs Museum. We were too busy watching the fastest 2 minutes in sports...and getting liquored up to appropriately cheer our pony around the track. But we did it in suits and huge floppy hats and that's classy.


Anyjulep, we packed up the suitcases, bid adios to the Hampton, and made our way up 54, passing Hatch and the New Mexico Spaceport on the way. No time to stop...there was shopping to be done at interesting stores and food to be eaten at interesting restaurants. Except when we got there, everything was closed. I mean, the churches and the Geronimo Springs Museum were open, but everything else was shut up tighter than...well...never mind. Let's just say it has something to do with a nun. It was only 10:30 and check-in to the entire reason for driving to T or C (besides the cool name):

...was not until 3. We had a problem. So we consulted the TripAdvisor site, which did list the Geronimo Springs Museum as the #2 attraction with 2 glowing reviews. It was time to look at dead things and read about dead people.

My knowledge of Geronimo is limited to "when you throw yourself from a perfectly good, non-crashing airplane, you scream (or cry) "GERONIMOOOOOOOOOOO!" That's the extent of it. I expected that I would learn all about Geronimo in the next hour or 2, maybe even discover that he liked to jump from high places. And I may have learned something but the information was everywhere, in 10-point font. And I have the attention span of a 4-year old. So all I got was this:

Geronimo and I sometimes wear the same do-rag. Also...his name translates to "one who yawns." Although there was very little yawning while he was leading his Apache tribe brothers into war with Mexico and the U.S. for stealing their land. I guess he didn't get the memo that the U.S. has a tendency to do that. Just ask the residents of Panama when we decided we needed a canal. If you would like more accurate information on Geronimo, Ric Burns did a documentary on him for American Experience titled We Shall Remain. (Those Burns boys are hoes for history.)

In addition to Geronimo: The Wax Man, the museum housed a pretty impressive collection of Native American pottery:

...along with a mannequin, just in case you forgot to pack your imagination.

Then there was the miner, who smokes the eternal cobb pipe, waiting for someone to share a beer with him in his log cabin (which was actually moved to the museum. I imagine moving a log cabin is something like moving a mobile home).

And, of course, what is a museum without a display of food items created by companies who have forgotten to change their packaging over the past 100 years...

...and a display of the various types of barbed wire used by local farmers and ranch hands.

But perhaps what was most exciting was a display of toys that children made during the pioneer days, with a sign that read "Remember when children made their own toys?" I glanced, I scoffed, and remembered my own Barbie dollhouse and Glo-worm (which were most assuredly not made by me). Suddenly, I heard Neal exclaim, "HEY! I had one of those!"

You heard it here first, y'all...Neal is basically a pioneer. And thus a remarkable Soldier.

When we left the museum, it was noon and time for lunch. We cruised around the block (we cruised around the block a lot while we were in T or C and it truly is just one block) to Happy Belly Deli, which got fantastic reviews. As we were pulling up, they were locking up for the day. At noon. I'll let you ponder that for a second because I still don't get it.

So, we cruised around the block again to Cafe Bella Luca, which also received high marks by travelers on TripAdvisor.

via TripAdvisor Reviewer

A modern restaurant with rustic-chic decor, they served a full menu of everything...but we settled on the New Mexico pizza with red sauce and, natch, green chiles. A Kona Brewery Pipeline to wash it all down with and by 1 PM, we were again ready to stalk the streets of T or C. 

Unfortunately, there was nothing to stalk. It looked as though the town didn't really open on Sundays. So, we headed about 10 miles east to...

Now, cue hysterical laughter while I sit in the passenger's seat exclaiming things like "We are at Elephant Butt!!" and "That sign says 'New Mexico's Diamond in the Desert' but shouldn't it be "Turd in the Crack??" and "I love a trip that includes a trip to Elephant Ass!" From there, it only got worse...

It is important to come just as you are when you are at the butt...er...butte. And...

Did you need a butt(e) boat? Perhaps you need to stop at the butt(e) store?? It's amazing that Neal didn't drop me off at the butt(e) and drive away, leaving me to snort uncontrollably all by myself. Fortunately, he's a grown-up.

By the time we left the butt(e)...last one, I promise. And my apologies to the residents of Elephant Butt(e)...it was almost 3! So, we shook a tailfeather all the way back to Riverbend Hot Springs which was, in one word, redonkulouslyawesomefantasticperfection. The photo that sold me on "natural mineral hot springs located on the banks of the Rio Grande" was this:

via TripAdvisor Reviewer

And yes, it pretty much looked exactly like that. Well, except for the Rio Grande. Which looked more like this: 

I'm going with all marketing photos were taken during the fall, after the monsoons arrived. But other than the Rio Grande being not so...grande...(even DivaV said, upon seeing the Rio Grande, "Seriously? That's a creek."), the lodging and the springs were heavenly. We soaked for 2 hours in the public hot springs (which were for the most part deserted) for free and then booked our hour in the private hot springs at sunset.

The 108-degree mineral water flowed into the baths at the top of the hill and continued through 2 more pools, before finally arriving at this one...making it the coolest of the baths at 101 degrees. It was mostly unoccupied, especially since a sandstorm blew in on Sunday morning and dropped the temperature to the low 40's. Everyone wanted to be hot in their hot springs, not warm. 

 Looking back from the "dock" that extended out to the Rio "Grande" (more like Rio Tall).

THAT is our private hot springs. For a whole hour. What happens in the hot springs, stays in the hot springs. 

But I will say that we didn't do anything that would shame our mothers.

The sun was setting over the Rio Grande and Riverbend Hot Springs. And it was time for dinner.

Los Arcos Steak and Lobster was the only place open. So, steak it was. It was also one of the best and juiciest steaks I've ever had. You know the chef has done something right when I send back the unopened bottle of A1. Although Neal and I couldn't help but be reminded of that restaurant/motel from Sideways. So tragically 80's. And yet, somehow, it worked.

We got back just in time for one more hour-long soak under the stars. I now see why people write novels and plays and movies about the New Mexico night sky. Neal downloaded the Google Sky app on his phone and we held it up to identify the constellations. We were right under Orion's Belt and The Big Dipper! It was the perfect way to spend our last night together.

And then they drained the pools. Yes, my OCD friends, they are completely drained and cleaned everyday. Everyone can breathe a big germaphobe sigh of relief.

The next morning, in an effort to get back on Atlanta time and see the sun rise, I pulled myself from bed at 6:30 AM. The pools were just beginning to refill, starting with the top and the hottest.

And trickling down to its cooler siblings...

We watched as the T or C locals popped in, paid their $10 for an hour's soak, and discussed everything from muscle testing to Plato.

We loaded the car and said goodbye to our abandoned soupy selves. We promised to not forget...to try and build something similar in our own backyard someday. And then we closed the door on #1 Riverbend Springs,

and got in the car, headed south. Back to Ft. Bliss, back to El Paso, back to the reality of deployment and all of the separation and loneliness that it brings. For every 4 days worth of yin, there is 10 months worth of yang.

However, a stop in Hatch for lunch and then one quick stop at the Future Site of the New Mexico Spaceport still hovered in our future.

Day 2: Kickin' It In Las Cruces

 Happy Champagne Friday and a toast to all of my friends who are appalled that I said all Mexican food tastes the same. When I am visiting you in California/Texas/Anywhere But Mexico, please feel free to treat me to dinner at your favorite hacienda. I think I can be persuaded.

While Saturday started with sunshine and temperatures in the 70's, it cooled off by early afternoon...the calm before the storm that came on Sunday, I am sure. So, we took advantage of the morning warmth by shopping the Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market that is held every Saturday on the downtown mall. Boo to TripAdvisor for not even listing this "attraction" on their site - it's a good thing I pay attention to roadside signs (although sometimes I think I'm supposed to be relaying GPS turns. But a good co-pilot also finds the local hot spots on road signs, too, right?) The sign boasted over 200 local craftsmen and farmers! I would say it's closer to 75 stalls and tables. Still pretty impressive for the middle of the desert, though. And since I use every trip as a possible shopping opportunity (although trying to write it off will cause your audit color to change from green to red), I wanted to see what the locals were selling in the way of jewelry and gemstones.

What you will quickly realize upon your arrival in New Mexico, is their insane love of the red chili. It is everywhere. Hanging in doorways, hanging at a gate entrance, hanging over the garage. The red chili is the varsity cheerleader and the Prom Queen all rolled into one and the owners of this booth are making a mint off of the chili addiction.

Honestly, by the time we left, I was ready to buy a chili wreath and smuggle it in my carry-on. But that would just look bizarre in Middle Georgia.

While I negotiated for the most lovely piece of egg lace:

the mariachi band played on. Unfortunately, I was so absorbed by the negotiating and then the people-watching (lady, you should not be doing that with your dog. It has to be illegal in at least 12 states. Plus the District of Columbia.) that I only got a photo as they were packing up for the day.

Oh well...they provided excellent background music for a morning of shopping and when they left, we took it as our cue to exit stage right also.

And then I dragged Neal to a bead store.

And he was a champ. He chatted with one of the employees while I debated between 4 strands of beads that, I'm sure, all looked exactly alike to him.

I am a loving and thoughtful wife, though, and only put him through that once. And also there was not another bead store within a 60-mile radius. Really, Las Cruces?? Scottsdale has a better selection. And it's Scottsdale. There are like 20 people who live there year-round.

So our next stop, which ranked #4 on TripAdvisor's Las Cruces Attractions list was Old Mesilla Village. It's fairly historical but not really all that famous, with the exception of Billy the Kid. For the most part, the residents who settled the area were unknown to me...but they did construct a beautiful, Spanish-style, Catholic Church and they should have owned stock in stucco.

I don't know...I got distracted by the declaration that they obviously have wine...

This blue around the windows and doors is beautiful and I am in lurrrve with it. I think the blue is to ward off evil spirits. Apparently, it does not ward off common criminals. 

Hail Mary, full of Grace....Also, a PSA: Lent starts next Wednesday. Better ride that Sin Wagon this weekend.

If this guy doesn't get into Heaven, with Jesus posted under his home address, we are all screwed.

Fountain Theatre is also historic and now exclusively shows Indie films. I had planned to purchase tickets for a movie about a monk leading children across the desert. However, neither one of us wanted to pay $12.00 each for a 2-hour nap.

I am in the process of drafting a letter to our Homeowner's Association to see how they feel about this. I would use blue, though. Adios, ghosties! 

We did run into Chief HasNoRhythm and DivaV at a jewelry store (shocking, I know) on the town square. Chief was urging DivaV to buy something and DivaV was resisting (such is the style of an accountant). We promised to meet up for lunch at La Posta, which was recommended to all of us by different people. DivaV said they had accidentally driven past Old Mesilla the first time and found themselves in a lovely grove of pecan trees, just a few miles down Hwy 28. We had a couple of hours before lunch so we hopped in the car and went in search of pecans. 

We found pecans.

We also found a winery.

At the base of the Organ Mountains (as in kidney, liver, duodenum)...

They are breathtaking and don't look like organs at all. 

Our bartender at Rio Grand Winery was named Sarah and she was everything a mistress of the grapes should be...social, full of interesting stories, and a listening ear when the wine started to kick in. I kind of miss Sarah. But I don't miss the wine because I brought some home with me! I am giving up Muscat for Lent, so it looks like I will be drinking that bottle tomorrow.

I tend to slouch when I get tipsy. My wedding photos are also excellent proof of this.

After an hour and a half with Sarah and 10 minutes with the pecans, we ventured back down 28 to meet up with The Dynamic Duo for lunch.

The chips were delicious, the salsa had a kick, and our server Steve was the most relaxed individual I have ever met. I am not going to ponder on why Steve was so relaxed. Regardless, he takes a stellar table picture.

What this picture is missing is the 2 Desert Rose Margaritas I inhaled during the course of lunch. La Posta's Desert Rose Margarita is mixed using cactus juice. And it's pink. My mouth waters just thinking about it. While we were munching on Mexican food that *does not at all taste like any other Mexican food I've ever had*, The Dynamic Duo mentioned that they had just bought new silverware at Nambe. And since we have been looking for sturdy, balanced silverware for almost a year now (and, honestly, I finally caved last July and bought a set from Target because how can you drive a Prius and continue to use plasticware?) and Nambe was right around the corner, we all 4 cruised over after lunch.

DivaV was right. The silverware they bought was amazeballs. And the table knife is wickedcool.

via Google Images (because Nambe.com right click disabled their photos)

The utensil that is third from the left? Is a KNIFE!! And hello, cute slotted spoon! (Oh how domesticated this lioness has become...)

While we perused, we discovered Nambe carries a double old-fashioned glass that we fell in love with during our stay at the Waldorf in London (we may have had to open our wine with a pocket knife, but at least they provided gorgeous barware once you could pour it). I realize I am prone to over-exaggeration (yes, more than 20 people live in Scottsdale year-round), but when I say that I have been looking for these glasses for 6 years, that is no fish tale. I saw the heavens open and angels began to sing on high. 

via Google Images

*GASP* I know, right? And because we had the silverware and glasses shipped to the house instead of weighing down my checked baggage, I run to the door all Pavlovian dog-like every time I hear a UPS or FedEx truck roll through.

An hour and some large amount of money later (although not that large...Nambe offers a military discount and that will endear them to me always), we parted ways with DivaV and Chief and headed back to the Hampton. Saturday night concluded with a bottle of pink champagne, a bottle of Rio Grande Winery sweet red, take-out wings from BW3's, and 2 hours of Jeff Dunham (pretty much the only ventriloquist who can make me laugh until I pee a little...remember "Jalapeno, on a steeeeeeck"? That guy is a little bit special and a whole lot of genius). No late nights for us since check-out was 10 AM and we had a hot springs waiting for us in Truth or Consequences. Oh, if only we knew what else awaited us there....

Happy Champagne Friday and if you are still reading, thank you! These are long posts...way over the suggested 500 words per post. But we were on a quest to fill these 4 days. Mission: Accomplished.

Also, that is a digitized camo fleece blanket that Neal surprised me with when we got up on Friday morning. At first I thought it was a camo Snuggie. I may pin the sides so it becomes one. Hate 'em or love 'em, the Snuggie is the 8th Wonder of the World.

Cheers!

Day 1: The White Sands of New Mexico

I know how some of y'all love a travel journal and even though I am in the process of posting all of my reviews on TripAdvisor, I am going to share them here, too. If you have zero interest in reading The Miller Adventures during a 4-Day Pass, then pop back over on Monday. It should all be over by then. Until then, each day's post will detail the fun we had and just some of the 700 pictures I took. 


Meet Me at Midnight 
The Soldiers of the 352 were released from McGregor (a training base in the middle of Nowheresville, New Mexico...drive until you see the prison and hang a right...) at 12:01 AM. DivaV and I, along with 2 other wives (MamaBear and Medusa...Medusa does not at all have snakes for hair, but she can do ahmazing things with the mops atop a head and she keeps me dyed and trimmed), had just arrived at the El Paso airport and we were debating whether to drive to McGregor or go to bed. Also, the Ft. Bliss Lodging bar was closed. (It made a difference). MamaBear and Medusa headed to McGregor (after a brief and unfortunate run-in with the Mexican border), while DivaV and I slept until the phone rang at 12:30 (for those of you playing at home, that is 2:30 AM our time). The boys were standing on a corner next to the PX, waiting for a ride back to lodging. DivaV and I had scored the last available room at Ft. Bliss Lodging, so the 4 of us piled into our 2 queen size beds and crashed out until breakfast.

Breakfast at Ft. Bliss Lodging was a carnival of carbohydrates...discouraging if you have just given up bagels, muffins, and cereal in an effort to win a bet. We ate our oatmeal and fruit and started the trip north, to White Sands National Park, about 90 minutes up the road (with a quick stop at Mall of America...I mean, the PX. I have never seen a PX this large. President Bush definitely took care of Texas while he was chillaxin' in D.C.).

Sometimes the Reviews Get It Wrong
We arrived in Las Cruces around lunch time and decided to stop since state parks are not historically known for their world-renowned cuisine. Amidst the chain steak houses and fast food joints, this sign caught my eye:

via Google Images

It is a pecan grill and brewery. Plus their logo was delightfully similar to the Daisy & Elm logo. How could you go wrong with that? Had I paused to read the reviews on TripAdvisor, I probably would have blown it off in favor of a China Buffet or a building that smelled like refried beans...but I didn't. And this time, it worked out. De La Vega's is the one and only restaurant owned by Tom and Jeanine Springer. They use locally grown chilis from Hatch, NM and only the freshest pecans, which are picked in nearby groves. TripAdvisor reviewers simply ripped the place apart, barely granting the restaurant 1 or 2 stars and employing lots of exclamation points in the reviews. I have no idea why. Our stuffed green chilis with ranch dipping sauce were fairly fantastic and I accidentally finished off the green chili butter on the last roll. You have not seen disappointment until you watch a man scrape a knife around an empty butter dish. Lunch was a pecan-crusted chicken salad that would have made the chefs at the Pirate's House in Savannah drool with anticipation.  In addition to the scrumdelicious food, De La Vega's offers the Arnold Palmer Tea...a smooth mix of lemonade and iced tea...a concoction that could be my 2011 Pool Drink of Choice (with just a drop of vodka). Clearly, whatever De La Vega's was doing wrong, they are now doing very, very right.

Look for the Dunes and Bear Left 
White Sands National Monument is 275 square miles of white sand dunes comprised of gypsum crystals. Normally, when gypsum flakes, it dissolves in water and washes out to sea, but because the basin has no outlet to sea, the rain that dissolves the gypsum from the San Andreas and Sacramento Mountains is trapped within the basin. This forms a sand that is harmless to your car's paint job and remains cool to the touch, even during the summer months. The temperature hovered around 80 and I walked the dunes barefoot.

Walking up the dunes proved to be more difficult than it looked. The sand shifted under our feet although it appeared to be packed.

Many fellow travelers were  sledding or even rolling down the dunes, but I was focused on getting the best possible picture of a landscape that is generally impossible to photograph.

Ever practical, Neal wore his comfy and supportive tennis shoes for 4 days while I did my best to look cute in ballet flats. In sand. That lasted approximately 0.2 seconds before they came off and I hoofed it barefoot. At one point, I looked back and caught a glimpse of our footprints. This, I thought, is the perfect representation of our marriage...the boy scout and the free spirit.

All along the way, there were windbreaker picnic tables where you could sit, have a glass of wine and a block of cheese and enjoy the mountains without blowing away or swallowing sand. (No alcohol between 1 February and 1 May, though, due to the underage drinking that was occurring during Spring Break.)

 Entrance into White Sands National Monument is $3.00/person and is good for 7 days. It includes a sunset stroll at 5 PM, which we took advantage of because sunset over sand is romantic. Unless you're in Iraq. Then it's just the end to another day. The stroll was led by a park volunteer who had just returned from an archaeological dig in Alaska. We ventured just 100 yards into the dunes while he told us about the plants, sand, and wildlife. I was only half-listening, though, because the sunset was breathtaking and much more interesting than yucca plants.

 As the sun set behind the Sacramento Mountains, the wind whipped and my feet froze to the "this sand does not retain heat" ground, while Neal's knees knocked together. 

But it was all completely worth it...

There is no better spot to witness a sunset than where the pavement ends.

Friday and Saturday nights were spent at the Las Cruces Hampton Inn and Suites, which is close to every chain restaurant you could hope for, plus Wal-Mart, plus a buffet that looks exactly like a Fazoli's from the outside. I had never stayed at a Hampton Inn and Suites, but it was nice to have a mini-fridge in the kitchen for our champagne and wine, and a couch to sit on instead of just the bed. It met all of my OCD cleanliness standards (even the vents in the bathroom were clean...that's nothing short of remarkable) and it was very quiet even though it is located in a rather busy and congested area of town. The only disappointment was breakfast...where the eggs tasted like pellets and they insisted on serving them everyday. I have yet to find a Hampton Inn that rocks a breakfast like the one in Hendersonville, NC. Breakfast burrito anyone?

Dinner on Friday night was at El Comedor in Old Mesilla. It ranked #1 in area restaurants on TripAdvisor and all of the reviews promised amazing chips and salsa, at the very least.

 

via Google Images

It is hard for me to review Mexican restaurants because, to me, it all tastes the same. Salsa is salsa (although I can tell which is homemade and which is Pace) and an enchilada is an enchilada. The salsa here is fresh, the chips are crispy without being greasy, and the ambiance is very New Mexico-chic. That's about all I remember, aside from the 2 guys sitting next to us who laughed like hyenas and then screeched like crows the whole time. And they were sober.

By 9:30, I was gazing longingly at the bed and by 10:00, I was chasing dragons across the Mexican border and buying margaritas for Geronimo. And, of course, cuddled up to Neal for the first time in over a month.

Wordless Wednesday: When It Is Important to Be in the Left Lane

Ft. Bliss: Been there, done that, don't really need a repeat. Way too close to Mexico for this little white girl from Kentucky. But there was fun to be had just an hour north of the border. The travelogue starts tomorrow!