Please don’t gerrymander my personal space


December is full and so is my credit limit.

It’s only about three weeks before Christmas and a lot of us are still trying to figure out what gifts and who we’re going to spend the money on, or rather put a little piece of plastic. From a previous record of five, I finally reduced my cards to three, one of which is the correct card. I wonder if anyone else has a “good card”.

Again, my seasonal gifts are limited to the family this year. Note that I am not using the trendy term “gift” because, firstly, I’m not sure that is an appropriate verb, and secondly, it seems too close to “grifting” to me.

I will never forget my first foray into the world of wear; that was the day my first credit card arrived in the mail. It’s one of those moments when you think you’ve finally grown up, like when you passed your driver’s license or voted for the first time. The first time I voted was right after they let 18 year olds vote and I voted for Richard Nixon rather than Hubert Humphrey. I never met either of them so I couldn’t look them in the eye to glean their honesty.

In short, my first credit card was a BankAmericard, the ancestor of Visa. She’s my goose that lays the golden eggs with a $ 200 credit limit. This was back when gasoline was 25 cents a gallon and my rent was $ 80, the same as my weekly pay. It was the early 70s and I was driving a cool 1966 Mustang and I was married. And as you can guess, the next time I felt really grown up was when I started trying to pay off that stupid card. Aesop’s fable about the death of the goose that laid the golden eggs began to ring true.

But I guess having some credit there isn’t a bad thing. I mean, that’s the patriotic thing, right? It was Cicero who said back in something-something before J. to another. “

And look at us now, over 2000 years later we still feel the habit of honesty (except maybe at income tax time).

Even if there is some turkey left in the fridge, you can still look forward to this Saturday for the Matanza hosted by the Socorro firefighters, and there will be light fixtures all around. Or is it farolitos? When I lived in Santa Fe years ago, if you said luminaria, people would look at you sideways as if to say, “Huh? You mean farolito.

I was then going to tell them that I thought the terms were interchangeable, as one meant little light and the other meant enlightenment, but my words fell on deaf ears as it seems he there is a hard and fast rule about the name of these bagged candles. , depending on where you live.

Anyway the light fixtures all around the plaza are quite quaint and it’s a great photoshoot, but try as I can, most of my night shots are all blurry.

Oh, and don’t miss the grand parade of electric lights down California Street. It’s a real hoot, with floats and Santa and, I guess, really long extension cords.

Since coronavirus germs can still be floating in the air, don’t forget to mask yourself and don’t forget about this social distancing thing. Six feet is a good rule of thumb, but yes I know we tend to misjudge how far six feet away and things always go wrong during the post-Black Friday crush at checkout.

That being said, like The Police’s song, “Don’t Stand So Close To Me”, we already have our own “personal space” preferences.

I was reading in Psychology Today that intimate space for our closest relationships is zero to 18 inches, personal space for family and friends is 18 inches to 4 feet apart, social space for relationships casual and professional is 4 to 10 feet, and public space for strangers is over 10 feet.

All of this is perfectly reasonable and works well in the principle of social distancing, although sometimes you will come across people who have decidedly different theories on how to avoid viral infections.

We being us, we all have our own opinions on everything between heaven and earth, so in the spirit of finding common ground I racked my brains and found at least four things we can all agree on:

  • Mosquitoes are horrible.
  • Wet socks are the worst.
  • Cereals then milk.
  • No one likes to be wet unless they want to be wet.


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