New Mexico

As the plane landed in Roswell, New Mexico, the stewardess said, "We know you have a choice when you fly and we thank you for choosing American Airlines."  Actually, you don't have a choice when you fly to Roswell, unless you're in the Red Bull Stratos balloon.  

I spent a few days in Roswell last week, much to my delight, leading a very normal life alongside my friend Laura.  Her husband was in California working on his second film.  So in the spirit of slumber parties, we watched the entire first season of Downton Abbey and drank sangria late into the night.

 This little sweetie was 2 months old the last time I saw her,

at my wedding.  She was a crash course in 14 month olds this time!

 Laura's dad had a team at the Cowboy Symposium 

chuckwagon cookout in Ruidoso.  We got to serve
and eat, but didn't have to clean up!

 I offered to buy this sign off the roadside stand owner, but 

she said she'd worked for John and couldn't part with it.

 The same roadside stand.

Four generations who live on the same street.

It's a special way to do life, I gathered.  

For those of you who've had the pleasure of flying into the 

Denver airport, you will note the glowing red eyes of another

of Luis Jimenez's horses.  He made this one in the 1970s, though

 it was the Denver one that fell on him and killed him.  At the 

Roswell Museum, where we spent Sunday afternoon.

Now I'm back with Tom in Idaho for a second interview.