Dale Ball sits comfortably in the corner of his living room couch on the 14th story of an Albuquerque high-rise.

Jessica Montoya’s hands are shaking.

Let’s dive right into all of the interesting, romantic, fun, sensual events that are at your fingertips in Santa Fe this upcoming V-Day week. Here’s a list of our top 14.

Joe Carraro calls himself “the average Joe.” That’s the name of a website he created, full of YouTube videos of him at a fake news desk, editorializing about issues ranging from stimulus waste and Obamacare to Wall Street malfeasance.

On a recent Saturday, Carraro is having lunch at Albuquerque’s Flying Star Café. A former state senator, he represented the city’s west side for 20 years, earning the nickname “the Italian stallion” for his impassioned speeches and Italian heritage. A tall man, he has a receding hairline and eyes that light up whenever he makes an important point.

It’s dark outside, and the scene is ripe for a fight. Two men—one tall, slender and middle-aged; the other short, gruff and 73—appear ready to duke it out. Well, at least the older man—a Texan named Jim Lightner, who sports a brown cowboy hat and a thick mustache—seems ready. That is, until he sees that I’m recording the whole scene with a camera.

“Could you turn that camera off?” he asks.
“NO!” yells the other man, a California transplant named Gershon Siegel, before I can respond.

“This guy’s gonna hit me and I’m gonna sue his ass.”
Siegel turns back to Lightner, daring him to fight.
“I’m gonna take that house of yours,” Siegel says. “Go ahead, hit me.”

Bystanders tell Siegel to back off, that he’s arguing with the wrong neighbor. Lightner glares at him.
“Sorry, Jimbo,” Siegel says, mockingly offering a hand.
“Let’s shake hands and say goodnight. Kiss and make up?”

Lightner refuses and slowly walks away.

Tom Udall gets about halfway to SFR’s conference room before an advertising rep stops him to ask what’s wrong with Congress.

“It’s a mess up there,” Udall admits, shaking his head. Then he tells her a story about his wife’s similar frustrations: “She said, ‘I wouldn’t vote for any of you guys again, either!’”

They both laugh.

It’s a cold morning in January, and Udall wears a scarf thrown over one shoulder of his gray suit. A slight man of 64, he wears his sandy, graying hair combed to one side and speaks matter-of-factly, fixing a steady gaze on whomever he’s talking to. When I offer him something to drink, he asks for hot water.

At noon on Jan. 15, New Mexico’s legislative session opens for business. Each year, the Legislature alternates between 30-day “budget-only” sessions and 60-day general sessions, at which pretty much anything and everything is up for debate. This year’s 60-day session is sure to be an exciting one—not only because the Democrat-controlled state House and Senate will once again face off against Republican Gov. Susana Martinez, but also because close to one-third of all state lawmakers are brand-new, fresh off a heated election cycle. With two months of committee meetings, floor hearings and exciting (seriously!) debate, it’s your perfect chance to get involved, even if you don’t know the first thing about how a bill becomes a law. So read up: With our “Dummiez” guide (yes, we know it’s spelled wrong; it’s a copyright thing), you’ll learn to legislate, lobby and lounge around like a pro. In bed.

Najaway, a Navajo woman, survived 20 years of domestic violence at the hands of two husbands—one Native, one non-Native. Now in her early 50s, she still can’t get the nightmare out of her head.

“I remember my daughter looking at me after I was beat down and covered with bruises, saying, ‘Mom, you should go away and not come back, because Dad might kill you,’” Najaway recalls. “She was all of six years of age.”

To Serve the Governed, Not the Governors
. Each December, SFR publishes a list of the year’s top 10 stories. But this year, one story overshadowed them all: closed government.

At SFR, we pride ourselves on our commitment to old-fashioned investigative reporting. We consider it our duty to find out what our government—of, by and for the people—is really doing, and then to inform our readers so they can make educated choices.

Oh, those Mayas…always good for a laugh! Your Xoloitzcuintli has the runs after someone fed him dark cacao? Blame your Mayan friend. Somebody rearranged the colored feathers in your headdress to represent the gay flag? Look no further than your giggling buddy with the oblong head. Sure, other pre-Columbian civilizations like the Mixtecs and Aztecs had evolved calendars, but the Mayan one—dating back to the 5th century BC and uncovered in the 16th century during the Spanish conquest of Yucatán—is the Britney to their Mandy Moore (somehow “It’s Mandy Moore, bitch!” doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?)