I originally posted this on Facebook and did not get any non-comedic feedback. The truth is I don’t know how to finish the last line. No, really. It’s sad but true.
Help me finish the last line of my back cover copy:
When overworked PDex driver Hector Ruedas agrees to train his maybe girlfriend Arora’s son to deliver packages to the worst residences in Roswell, New Mexico, he expects a long day, not a murder at the PDex warehouse and a missing delivery driver. The long day turns into a long week of hacked security footage, a haunted meat factory, and a gang of breakdancers in the business of black-market gadgets. With Arora acting as his secretary and an entire team of unqualified detectives from the local Catholic church – including a priest – Hector is pulled into a bizarre investigation in which the clues are heralded by local ghosts and spiritual manifestations. Funny, fast-paced, and delightfully offbeat, Delivering 2nd Chances…
…delivers up a very special workplace comedy?
…will make you sing for joy?
…will love you better than a meth prostitute?
…gives our beloved delivery driver yet another opportunity to fix Roswell’s deep problems, even if he has to get beaten up in the process?
P.S. The book will be published as soon as the book cover is done.
I made four videos last week and failed to post any of them. Today, I put together clips of my videos and am still debating whether I should upload. My problem — and I am not alone — is that I would prefer to simply live my life without any kind of social media. I like writing books and driving people crazy with my daily accordion practice. Also, let it be said that I may not be a perfectionist, but I should adhere to a basic standard of video lighting and mics and maybe even video editing software before I continue.
I’m going to give a recap of important points I managed to elucidate in my videos, but first I’d Iike to highlight a bit of Roswell news:
For many years, Roswell has had a skating rink. Yes, it’s true. I was surprised, too. When my children were younger, they went with friends to the skating rink for birthday parties, or just fun nights at the rink. Such nostalgia for me! I loved going to my local skate rink when I was a child and teenager. It was one of the most exciting places to be because it was open late, the DJ spun dance tunes, the lights made you glow, and there was delicious concession stand food. Well, I thought it was delicious when I was young. Cotton candy. Nachos. Licorice whips. Chili dogs. Greasy pepperoni pizza. Sodas in those small waxy cups that don’t exist anymore because everything went supersized.
When we first moved to Roswell, the local rink was known as Cheap Skates. It is now known as the Nebula Arcade and Roller Rink. That’s the name they use on Facebook, so I assume the latter is the official name. The BIG news is that they have registered as a nonprofit, and they are looking for sponsors to keep skating free for children. I honestly hope they can make a go of it. For more info, go to their Facebook page.
And back to my regularly scheduled videos:
I have been keeping a “Dearest Diary” of my musical adventures on real paper that rustles when the wind blows. In one video, I read a not very exciting piece about playing polkas and keeping up on daily vocal exercises.
Real paper for everyone.
Then, I launched into my difficulty playing the accordion with thumbs, since I do not use thumbs often on my button accordions. I played a few scales using my right thumb as the starting finger and ruminated on how perfectionism will prevent many people from starting on a musical instrument in the first place. If you then stop doing stuff because you can’t live up to your perfectionistic expectations, the only perfect creation you’ll end up with will be the hole you dug for your own grave.
The face I make when I screw up but know there’s a bit of earth out back.
On another video, I discovered something very important:
There are 120 bass buttons. This one with the divot is the C anchor button so that you can find the other notes!
In another video, I discussed needing the kind of map I invented for my MapWriter stories, some of which made it in this book of shorts:
Grin like the mad scientist you are.
I would like to have a map because I don’t know the best route to reach my goals. How do I become a better accordionist than Frankie Yankovic or Javier Ríos? How do I become a successful author? My books are already amazing, but who will buy them? If only I had an interactive map, I might know if I should continue posting videos, or instead should focus on drinking tea.
There’s something beautiful and mysterious about compass roses. They play a significant role in the upcoming book, Delivering 2nd Chances. However, they are used as a crude graffiti tag, thereby reducing their beauty and overall significance. That’s what happens when an unruly breakdancer named Zed gets a hold of someone else’s design and a few cans of spraypaint.
Maps also hold a fascination, at least for me, that is no doubt lost to the current generation that has never been made to search through atlases for specific geographic highlights. Or maybe they did have to. My children did in their homeschool; there was an entire subject and books of maps devoted to the study. Still, I believe my original assertion that most of the joy has been lost due to GPS telling us where to go so that we may arrive at our destination in good time.
I appreciate GPS. It does reduce a certain kind of stress that we all used to have when given verbal or written instructions on how to arrive at a house, business, or landmark. Within an advanced metropolis, you might have been given directions involving merging into a lane in order to make a right and cross a bridge because if you didn’t do so, you would remain on the wrong side of the river. These instructions might have also involved cardinal directions, which meant you had to have visual landmarks to orient yourself by. The mountains or the ocean or the river might have been your orientation point–mountains naturally being the most visible of these at any given time.
In less advanced metropolises, such as Socorro, New Mexico, directions became a bit more bizarre. In the early days of living there, there were few street signs to go by, although M Mountain was to the west and the Rio Grande valley to the east. The freeway ran north to south parallel to the main drag of town, California Street. These were important directions to know. My directions for one house I lived in was to drive west toward M Mountain. When the paved road ends, take a right hand turn three dirt roads down. There is a large, ugly pine tree in my front yard, just past the empty lot.
Now that I live in Roswell, there isn’t a prominent mountain or interstate to orient oneself by. Instead, one tends to consider the Walmart being on the far north side of town, while the airport is on the far south of town. The airport is not actually in Roswell proper, but it feels like it is because of its location near the community college. Main Street runs north to south, while Walmart is to the west of Main and the mall, across from Walmart, is to the east. I’ve described Roswell before as being one long alien landing pad because it’s a long town in the middle of grasslands. If you fly out of Roswell, you can see this visually. It can also be seen from a tall building, of which, there only a few.
The Petroleum Building is one such that pretends to be tall. When they were renovating, I walked in and climbed the stairs and looked down at the green swath in the middle of bare yellow grasslands that is Roswell. It helped me appreciate this little town. I know I’ve written about this before, maybe even in my “I ❤ Roswell” post. I don’t know; I just know it was a turning point for viewing this once hated place in a new light. I wanted my beautiful mesas and mountains and desert scape with jackrabbits and marigolds and cactus blooms back.
This post was brought to you by my recent editing changes in my book. I hope you have enjoyed this little talk about directions. If you need directions somewhere, I’m more likely these days to give you cardinal directions rather than tell you to take a left at the large stump by the chicken coop where Our Lady graces one corner and holds birds in her arms. That last was a real physical detail of Socorro; it still is. Drive past Our Lady of the Chickens, I used to say. Eventually, you will find my house. Or not. Once upon a time, I didn’t have a cellphone and neither did many other people. Calling and asking for help was not an option. Find a burned-out trailer, knock on the door, and hope it’s a meth-head instead of a zombie who answers. That was your best bet for finding your way. In those days.
When I was in the thick of editing as a side freelance job while writing the book that became The Minäverse, I did a few work stints in the Roswell Mall. Like many small town malls, it persists with a few anchor stores that are hanging on. This one has a Bealls and a JCPenney and a couple of shoe stores, a GNC…. You get the idea.
It’s small and cozy, with one main wing and a few short side halls. Being from the 80’s era, it is filled with natural lighting from the skylights and high ceilings; the light falls on the neutral tones of the tile work on the floor. The benches are pale wood as part of the aesthetic of being in nature while indoors and spaced throughout for the malcontents who no longer wish to be shopping while their significant other is in the thick of buying the perfect shoes for whatever. The only element lacking is the potted plants, which I’m sure used to exist at one time. Sans the synthetic fragrances, the mall is a peaceful and relaxing place to be. It can even be a healthful place if you go on the mall walking tour. I’m not sure how many times up and down the main hall makes a mile, and the intrigue won’t be there as it certainly will be at the cemetery, but many people do indeed keep their step count up at the Roswell Mall.
I spent a good chunk of my Saturday here this week trying to sell raffle tickets for the nonprofit, Roswell Night Skies. The mall manager is on the board, and she set up a table for us near the main entrance for selling as many tickets as we could manage on a busy Saturday. Unfortunately, it was not a busy Saturday by any measure, and the usual crowd that would be buying pictures of their kids with the Easter bunny were off doing other Roswell activities.
That is one reason, of course, for needing to stay on top of the local community calendar. While my interests tend towards cemetery walks and norteño concerts, actual family events should be on my radar. As it turned out, there were a few other fundraisers and an Easter egg hunt at the military institute. And who knows what else? Saturday is the one day of the week this mall is usually busy. Mala suerte that today wasn’t.
Overall, it hasn’t been a bad day. I’ve enjoyed myself, if nothing else. Next week is Holy Week, one of the busiest weeks of the year for the Catholic church. The office will be busy, and I will be singing first at a funeral, and then for the Masses and Good Friday Veneration of the Cross of the Triduum. I love the Triduum, and I have no fewer than two blog posts in drafts I wrote about this important three days of the church calendar. Somehow, I never managed to publish them. Maybe I’ll publish something next week.
Meanwhile, I’m now soaking up the relaxation at the Sunshine laundromat. I’ve used this same location to wash my clothe on and off since moving to Roswell, when I had no washer and dryer at my disposal. I don’t recommend a laundry tour of Roswell — there’s one that’s scabby, where you will find meth heads that manage a load every now and again; there’s one that’s in-between in its cleanliness, and then there’s Sunshine. Well, there’s no other choice. Honestly, I like the sound and feel of laundry running. And unlike the mall, there are potted plants filling one entire corner of the shop. Water, soap, sunshine*, and plants are balms for the soul.
I’ve also spent some time editing and writing books here while the washers or dryers are running. Maybe I could come up with a writing tour of Roswell: Places I’ve Carried My Current Writing/Editing Tool: the mall, Sunshine Laundry, Stellar Coffee, Denny’s, Starbucks, the Roswell Library, Assumption Church (while waiting for choir practice or other events), Gateway gym, Christ’s Church…. That’s all I can think of right now.
Jill Domschot 