An Unexpected Twist

I will not be posting my intended blog tonight - big, happy changes are approaching my family's life. I will post the story tomorrow. Keep an eye out for the Weekly Read!

The Place Between Part 2

I came to a rather momentous decision today that will open my calendar to allow me to do what I love: to write. I cannot tell you how freeing it feels to have reached this decision. While indeed I've been producing every week, it's hasn't been easy. And it's never been difficult before. But now, the pen is in my hand once more and honest to goodness, this is exactly how it feels:

Yes, that's right. I just used the theme song from "Frozen." I was never quite a fan of "Frozen," because this song was played OBSESSIVELY EVERYWHERE, but I guess I wasn't supposed to appreciate it until tonight. And that's all we're going to talk about that...I'm still kinda fighting it (as I have the song playing in the background.)

Alright, you've waited a whole week patiently. Ready for part two of The Place Between? Well, ready or not, here it is!

The Place Between Part Two

Perhaps it was the chemicals from the paints and the Poptarts she imbibed that caused her to hallucinate. Perhaps it was the left-over fumes of some hyped up drug that resided in the bathroom laying in wait to throw any teen into a waking dream.

This was how Cassie attempted to convince herself that what she experienced wasn't real. But the silver pendant she clutched to that Martin gave to her was as solid and as true as anything and in her life. As she lay in bed later that night, she kept running her thumb over the three words impressed upon it's face: The Place Between.

Throughout the entire night, her head was spinning. The only solid thoughts she could string together were; 'Rowling totally under dramatized how Harry would have reacted when walking into Diagon alley for the first time.'

It was real. All of it. Not Hogwarts and that lot, (although Cassie did keep her fingers crossed to believe that somewhere out there a hippogriff was shooting the breeze with a mocking jay.)

The expanse of the Place Between was yet to be seen or realized by Cassie. Martin had said her "edification to the world between" was to begin next Tuesday when she didn't have class. Cassie wasn't sure if she could wait that long or how she was going to keep this to herself or how she was to tell Marlie about why she was skipping out on her normal volunteering routine. The list went on and on as did the diurnal routines.

"Cass," Mrs. Jordon hollered to her daughter just before she floated out the door. Rushing through the living room to catch Cassie, Mrs. Jordon handed the girl her rucksack. "Forgetting something?"

Cassie thought it strange to think that a bag full of partially done homework, pens, and other oddities could be so important when weighed against the pendant in her pocket. But she supposed for school she should at least make an effort to portray that everything was still same ol' same ol'. She murmured a thanks to her mom. Cassie remained in a state of shock and she was drained from lack of sleep. It was a miracle even a simple murmur emerged from her successfully. 

"Are you feeling okay?" Cassie's mom placed the back of her hand to Cassie's forehead. "You've got that zombie look."

"Yeah, I'm fine, mom," Cassie quickly dismissed and pushed her mom's hand away. She immediately changed her tune to seem less irritable. "I just didn't sleep well." Seeing the dog that meandered into the room to say good day to her favorite human, Cassie pointed at the furry one and said, "Dina kept me up all night." Cassie was not even sure if Dina had been in her room at all, but it seemed a viable excuse. 

Mrs. Jordon considered her daughter for a minute, then decided that she would be alright. If the girl was about to get behind the wheel of a car, possibly not so much. Luckily Mrs. Jordon didn't have to worry about such things. "Alright, well, take it easy today and try to sleep on the bus. Have a great day, sweetie." 

Cassie received a kiss from her mom then headed out the door into the cold morning.

As much as Cassie wanted to move out to the city, she did enjoy the mornings in the mountains. There was a light, crispness that accompanied the dewy morning haze. There was no snow on the ground, it had been a very dry winter so far, but it was cold enough to make the dew drops on the oak leaves turn to frost.

The bus arrived on time at her stop at the end of the dirt road. Cassie partially collapsed into the straight back, black bus seat. She always sat on the right side of the bus nearer to the back so that she could rest her feet on the hump on the floor where the rear wheel was. She slumped in her seat and returned to her daze of confusion and wonder. She did not even bother to get out her iPod for the forty minute ride. Kid by kid, the bus filled, but it was never completely taken up. Usually only one or two rows would have two students sharing a bench. Even though Chelsea and Cassie had been best friends since they were seven, they did not sit together in the mornings. Chelsea always ate her egg sandwich on the ride to school and the smell of it made Cassie sick. 

As the bus passed the abandoned cattle farm, just as had happened the day before, the day before that and so on, Cassie's thoughts went numb as the bus rolled by. It seemed impossible to her that even with her mind so distracted, the sight of that farm could prove to wash her thoughts like a power hose to a mud stricken car. 

Like clockwork, the buss reached the school half an hour before the first bell rang at 7:23am. The extra half hour was necessary out on the mountains. The roads frequently would have ice or snow on them, so it was an every day precaution to leave early just in case. 

Cassie didn't mind arriving at school early, particularly today. She was starting to emerge from her haze, so she realized that apologies were in order to the librarian that she skipped out on yesterday. Cassie felt really bad for what had happened especially because she wouldn't be able to give the real reason why she was absent. An enormous flock of butterflies began to flit in her stomach as she approached the raised library building. She really wanted to tell someone about what she was a part of, but she had been sworn to secrecy. It was an enormous undertaking that she was to be a part of, and, kicking herself, Cassie realized that she had forgotten to make her bed, yet again. 'How do they expect me to be able to do this?'

The warmth of the library greeted Cassie as she walked through the code detectors designed to deter students from pocketing books. She could immediately see Marlie, the librarian, talking with a student. Looking through the stacks, Cassie checked to see if Mike and Chelsea were on their couches - yes, they had claimed them. Teens in high school really were not all that different from lions in the wild - they traveled in packs, they marked their territory, there was usually a dominant male or female, they fought with other packs, they estranged those that fell out from their favor, and they did things their way. Unfortunately, there were only a couple of baby faced freshmen girls hanging out on the couch giggling at the manga that they were reading. Other than that, the library was pretty empty.   

Cassie made her way towards Marlie at the front desk. While the tenth grader with Marlie explained the many different reasons why there were a variety of stains all over Tess of the D'ubervilles, Cassie leaned on the side of the desk and realized that this conversation was doomed to take a while. As she stood there, Cassie thought on Marlie for a moment. She had that "a-typical" librarian look, complete with wild, grey hair and reading glasses dangling from a beaded strap that a student had made her. But she was nothing like your "a-typical" librarian. Cassie thought very fondly of all the conversations the pair had shared and she knew she was not the only one at this school who felt this way. Marlie was the cool mentor, friend, and confidant that every teenager could ever want, regardless if they were nerds, jocks, band geeks, orchestra kids, misfits, or thespians. They all gathered here because Marlie was the best listener on campus, bar none. She was also exceedingly understanding to the life and means of being a teen. Cassie would never forget one morning when she and her friends were on the couch; her friend Josh who had been expelled for having pot on him jumped clean over the back of the couch to tackle-hug Mike who had been gone for a week after having his wisdom teeth removed. It turned into a giant wrestling, laughing fest, with Cassie and Chelsea corralled into it. Had any other adult on campus seen the hullabaloo, all of them would have ended up in detention, particularly because they were in the library. But not Marlie. She stood still watching the whole thing, allowing the kids to have their fun, and once they started to settle down, all she said was, "Alright, guys, just make sure you put the couches back in the way you found them." Which they happily did.

Cassie sighed. She missed Josh. Maybe she would go see him later. It was Friday, after all.

"Alright, Miss Cassie," Marlie said with a hint of 'what-were-you-up-to' on her tone. "And why did Chelsea and I spend the whole afternoon re-shelfing by ourselves?"

For a brief moment, Cassie thought it odd that neither would go looking for her, but she knew that Chelsea would probably not even realize that Cassie was missing until an entire bus ride home without seeing her friend. The bus ride home with Chelsea had been interesting. The excuse that Cass had given her bestie was that she decided to go back to art lab after all to work on her senior project. Chelsea bought the story, no questions asked. Cass had been lucky - had Mike been involved in the conversation, there would have been no end to it. He was nosy, plain and simple. Clearing her throat, Cassie said to Marlie, "I uh, I had a lot of work to get done on my senior project and I just got caught up on it. I'm really sorry, Marlie. I can help now though. I can skip Advisory."

Marlie would have more than happily gotten Cassie out of first period Advisory, which was a 35 minute homeroom that was really designed more for underclassmen. It didn't make sense for seniors to sit around. Most merely napped or played with their phones in class. Most teachers had given up confiscating cells long ago. All that being said, Marlie did know that Cass was one of the few students who actually used that time productively. "I'm not sure, Cass. Don't you have a report that goes along with that art project? Shouldn't you be using that time towards finishing that?"

Dropping her composure like a guilty puppy, Cassie said, "Yeah, I guess so."

Marlie had known this young lady better than she did most of the students that came through her. Cassie and her group of friends practically lived in the library.  "Alrighty, Cass, what's really going on?"

It bothered Cassie to no end that she was so transparent with her emotions. 'Really, Martin? Did you have to choose me to be this sole carrier of the most awesome news ever?' 

Cassie tapped her chipped painted nails to the top of the desk a second, trying to conjure a story. "It's nothing serious. I'm just frustrated. I have this image in my head, but I don't know what to do with it."

"Draw?" Marlie said as if the answer was so blatantly obvious it was painful to say it. "Come on now, Cassie? Really?"

Shrugging, Cassie actually began to realize that it wasn't a terrible idea, but there were some issues. "I realize I could express myself creatively," she said the last few words as pompously as possible, "But there's no...no..." she pressed her hands together as she tried to find the right word.

Rolling her head in small circles, Marlie was hoping to use telepathy to give Cassie the word, but knowing better, she ended up just saying, "Physical object?"

Snapping, Cassie said, "Yes, yep. That's it. I have something inside me, but I don't know how or what to draw."

Nodding, Marlie explained to Cassie about abstract art as an expression for exactly that. Being an art enthusiast, Cassie of course knew about abstract art, but the emotions and objects were still so new to her, that the idea had not yet crossed her mind. "That's not a bad idea," she said meekly.

The bell rang. It was time to go to first period.

"Come on back at lunch, Cass," Marlie said as she stood up to walk the young lady out. "I'll have a stack of books ready to inspire you."

Waving bye to Marlie, Cassie bound down the steps to the library and walked across the lunch court where dozens of other students were moving about with similar destinations. It was Friday and hardly anyone could wait for the end of the day.

As Cassie walked off the concrete pavement and down a grassy slope toward Advisory Period, she became very aware of the pendant in her pocket. It was vibrating like a phone on silent. She remembered what Martin had told her about the pendant - that it would let her know when it needed her attention and how to answer its call.

Quickly skipping off, Cassie ran to the closest girl's bathroom.

"You're gonna be late," a hall monitor who was one of the teachers who had first period off yelled to Cassie as he tapped his watch.

"It's girl time, can't help it!" Cassie quickly shouted to him. She did not wait to see his reaction - she was an old pro at this point in getting around rules.

Running into an empty stall and closing the door, Cassie pulled the pendant out from her pocket and held it up to her ear like one would a conch shell.

She jumped when she heard Martin's voice as clearly as if he was standing next to her coming from the pendant: "I know I said we'd start next week, but there's someone I'd really like you to meet. If you get the chance and do not miss class, it's time you come back to the place between."

"Ha," Cassie thought to herself. "It's not like first period really counts as class." 

Trembling from excitement, Cassie put the pendant right up against her lips exactly as instructed and whispered what she had been taught, "I know of a place, a place between."

The space around her began to twist downward. It suddenly looked as if she was standing in the eye of a slow moving tornado.

~*~*~

J.K. Rowling, if you by some miracle are reading this blog, please don't think I have anything against Harry Potter - those books are my favorite series without competition. I've probably read The Deathly Hallows about five times. 

And for the rest of you, I'll see you next week for more of The Place Between. 

Your humble author,
S. Faxon

The Place Between

Have you ever had a really bad week at work? That's an experience that both my sister and I shared last week, so we hopped in the car and decided to get away. We left San Diego and drove up to Temecula on one of the more interesting road trips I've yet embarked upon. We ended up taking a side road to avoid the traffic on the freeway, which took us waaaaaay off the beaten path. We laughed and wondered if we'd end up in Nevada as our road twisted and turned this way and that. 

We saw many beautiful mountainsides and we even spotted a BUFFALO! (It's a big deal). The really interesting scene that we passed was an abandoned dairy farm. There were tractors that were new and the grass was mowed, so someone was taking care of the property, but there were no cows, the buildings were rusted and would easily qualify as condemned. As our car rolled by, my sister and I were fascinated by the sprawling property at the foot of the mountain. And as the wheels of our car made a slight turn, I said, "At the foot of a purple mountain there lie an abandoned dairy farm." 

My sister and I looked at each other for a brief second, (she was driving after all) before I whipped out my green moleskin agenda to write out the phrase. It had potential and my sister agreed. Let's see what you think because the next night, I had a dream. I now present to you the story that started with that farm: 

The Place Between

At the foot of a purple mountain there lie an abandoned dairy farm. The yellow bus that drove by was the most frequent visitor, passing the farm two times a day, Monday through Friday, but hardly any of its passengers gave it a second glance. There was one however, who was daily transfixed. 

Pressing her cheek and forehead against the cool window, Cassie watched the farm closely. Whenever she passed by this place, her thoughts would slow and drift to what might have happened here. There were stories, of course. This was a small town mountain area, but none of the people who had been around when the farm was active were alive any more. So the words that passed amounted to small talk, nothing more. 

Kids at Cassie's school had talked about groups of boys who had crept around the ploughs, stalls, and range trying to find any clue, only to run out with a cloud of dust following their feet. Whatever was in that place was not something worth risking your nose for, so most teens, however daring and typical in all other respects, avoided that place. Even merely passing-by was enough to give Cassie the chills. It always felt like someone or something was watching back.

Cassie turned up her iPod and pulled the hood of her thick sweatshirt over her head and let the steam from her breath blur her view of the farm.

The first two classes of the day dragged on like normal. Thursdays were "block" schedule, so she had odd classes for two hours a day, the same was the case on Tuesdays for even numbers. The only benefit of this was having two and a half hours in her art class before lunch. It gave her almost enough time to be creative. Her other classes were alright, but to she was ready for summer, and this was only February. To say she was burned out or suffering from senioritis was an all too true cliché. There was still one AP test awaiting her and several more months ahead, but Cassie was done. She already knew that she was going to community college. Wasn't that enough? She didn't want to go, but she would be the first in her family to attend college. As someone who wanted to escape the mountains through art, college didn't seem like the right path, but at least the college was outside of the mountain. The whole setting the path for her family's advancement thing was a big deal, but she tried not to think about it.

Lunch after the second class consisted of cinnamon Poptarts that she bought off a cart in the lunch court. While she stood in the impossibly long line, Cassie wondered what life was like where "winter" was more of a reality and every part of the school was indoors. Even here in the Southern California mountains where it did snow occasionally, she stood outside with her peers in the lunch court, fighting almost like animals to get to the blue carts before the stupid end of lunch bell rang. 

With lunch being a mere 35 minutes long, Cassie's hands were still coated in pastels as she munched on her Poptarts; the choice she faced after art class was: 'wash my hands and miss out on the chance to get food or imbibe chemicalls and get food.' Food was normally the winner of that competition even though the choices at the cart were never that exciting. After four long years of lunch court lunches, Poptarts were the only 7-11 like food that she could stand. If she never had to look at a taco pocket again, she would only be too happy.

"It's not even real meat, you know," Cassie's friend Mike said to their friend Chelsea as the three of them ate as quickly as possible. "It's from a bull's t-"

"Then it is real meat," Chelsea took an enormous bite of her taco pocket simply to spite Mike. 

Cassie thought about how in the city where the community college was, even the thought of taco pockets in a high school lunch court must be revealed as heinous crimes against humanity. 

"On a not disgusting note," Chelsea skewed while covering her mouth and chewing at the same time. "Cass, are you going to come to the library after lunch or go back to lab?"

As much as Cassie would have liked to go back to the art lab to work on her senior project, she had promised the librarian that she would help reshelf. Shrugging, Cassie brushed poptart crumbs from the top of her Hunger Games T-shirt. She tried to keep it as clean as possible as the golden-mocking jay shirt was the very first purchase she had made with money she had earned from her part time job. "I really should go see Marley. I promised her on Tuesday that I'd help out." 

"You better get the paint and chemicals off first, Cass," Mike strongly suggested. "I can't even imagine how deep you'd be in if you soiled the books in the library. I'm pretty sure that's when the library demons would come out and eat your soul. There's no chance of surviving that."

"Wow, you're so dumb" Chelsea teased, throwing the plastic wrapper of her taco pocket at Mike. 

The dreaded "end-of-lunch-get-your-butts-to-class" bell screamed across the campus. 

All three teens groaned. Lunch was never long enough.

"Well," Mike stood and pushed his nose-length bangs out from his face, "I'm off to rejoin camp-not-college bound and go to class, you class-snobs." 

Chelsea and Cassie were enrolled in a college course that came to their high school on their non-block days, so there were two days a week when these students did not have class. Everyone else enrolled in these courses would skip and go home as there was nothing binding them to remain on campus, but Chelsea and Cassie took the after school bus home, so there was nothing for them to do, but volunteer twice a week in the library. 

Pulling her rucksack higher on her shoulder, Cassie shoved her Poptart wrapper in her bag then said, "I'm going to go to the bathroom to clean up. See you later, Mike." Cassie waved to her friend as he went off to class. Through the stream of students moving this way and that all over the walkway where the three had been sitting, Cassie said to Chelsea, "Tell Marlie I'll be by in a bit."

"K!" Cass heard Chelsea shout, but Cassie was already headed down the hall to the girl's restroom. 

She was relieved that the smell of pot did not instantly smack her in the face as she entered the bathroom. She hated the smell and though one of her really good friends had been expelled for carrying, she was glad with the crack down the school was doing to reduce smoking in schools mainly because the smell gave her headaches. It always fascinated Cassie as to what rules came about for why - she and her friends strongly believed that many of the school's rules came straight out of sitcoms or reality TV, which were both so unrealistic. For example of such a policy, having security guards posted outside of the restrooms during lunch to deter illicit behavior. She knew where this idea came from; she and her friends would always laugh when they saw on kids on TV sneaking smoking cigarettes in bathrooms at lunch or during class. The truth was, it was pot they smoked in bathrooms before school, cigarettes they did in the parking lot after school. Lunch time, not so much.

The last girl running late to class skipped out from the dim, grey bathroom, leaving Cassie alone, which suited her fine. Scrubbing her hands clean of the paints she used, Cassie wished she had taken a second to pull out her iPod. Listening to her music as she scrubbed her hands similarly to how a doctor would while prepping for surgery made the time pass more quickly. A strange thought crossed her mind - she swore she could hear something muffled by the sounds of the water running out from the spigot. 'Did I leave my iPod on and not realize it?' She wondered. She kept turning the automatic spigot on, with her wet and dripping hands not stopping to give herself the chance to analyze the sound. From what she could hear, it sounded like grinding, like a jamming guitar in a hard rock or death metal song. She didn't think she had anything like that on her iPod. 'Maybe it's the construction? They have been digging up room 103 for a while.' The students had been told to avoid 103 while the white suited people cleared the left over aspestus out from the ceiling, but the white-suited guys typically didn't work on the room while the students were there. 

The spigot began to close off the flow of water. 

Cassie would later remember that she had only brought her gaze to be level with the mirror before the running water stopped and the earth beneath her dropped. 

She fell.

Down, down she went as the floor of the bathroom had crumbled beneath her feet!

The drop seemed an eternity, but she hit the ground about as hard as one would falling playfully off a still swing.

The abrupt stop left her hip panging a little, but Cassie was a bit too. distracted to really mind the forming of a bruise. 

"What the hell was that?" she asked the darkness and the moist circulur, dirt hall she found herself within. 

Looking around, Cassie realized that the hole she had fallen through must have been very deep. Looking straight up she could not even see the light of the bathroom from where she fell. Darkness was all she saw above. But, before her, there was a glow of light down the hall and around what looked like a bend. 

She wanted to shout to see if anyone would hear her, but she had seen enough horror movies to know better than to bring attention to herself in so odd a place. Checking behind her once more and seeing that only a wall was behind her, there was no other option but to go forward.

She had to walk through crouched down and hunched over. The tunnel was barely big enough for a dog to have walked though standing up, the medium-height teen found it difficult, but eventually she made it to the bend. She was happy to reach the opening - there was such a strange feeling within the hall - it felt like she wasn't alone. The weirdest part was that it was not an unnerving feeling, just an acknowledgement that she wasn't the only one down here. She could not yet decide if this was a feeling of comfort or a feeling of fear.

The bend was short and it led to the most peculiar place. Taking a step out from the bend, Cassie was able to stand straight up in a decent sized room. 'This must be how Dorothy felt when she realized she wasn't in Kansas.'

The first part of the room was a dirt floor and the second half had blue and white tiles. There was a worn stainless steel table in the center of the room with a low hanging lamp dangling from a dirt ceiling. The bottoms of what appeared to be roots dangled here and there from the ceiling. It looked as if someone had tried to make a garden and breakroom kitchen into an interrogation room, but forgot to put a door on the other side, leaving instead a big, tall rectangular hole.

'Am I dead?' Cassie wondered as she slowly walked toward the table with two chairs. 'Like, did the chemicals in the art lab finally get to my brain? Is this a trip?' Cassie waved her hand quickly in front of her face trying to see if there was a trail after it, but no, it appeared normal. 

Out from the rectangular door, a tall man wearing a brown twead suit emerged holding a folder almost over flowing with papers. "Ah, there you are Miss Cassandra Jordan. Welcome, welcome." His accent was English and he was a handsome, middle aged man who looked starved of sunlight and any sense of fashion, but he seemed friendly enough. "Won't you please take a seat? We have a bit of business to go over and I'd like you to be comfortable. I'd serve you tea, but, unfortunately and please forgive me, we don't have much time. My name is Martin Lathin and again, it is my delight to welcome you here." 

Cassie was transfixed on this man. The whole experience thus far aside, she was mesmerized by the sound of this man's voice.

"Is everything alright, Cassandra?" Martin took a seat and lay the file on the table. 

Realizing that she had probably singed this man's coat with her intense gaze, she quickly apologized. "Yeah, yeah, um, sorry." She pulled the seat out on her side of the table and sat down. "I've just never met a real person with an English accent. And you're just so..." Cassie struggled to find a word that didn't seem offensive, but she settled to say, "So English."

Martin chuckled. After the short list of shocking events that she had just endured, it was interesting to him that his accent was her greatest point of interest. It also fascinated him that teens from above were the same as teens anywhere. No matter the circumstance, if something caught their attention that was where it stayed. He did imagine that having a foreign accent in a remote mountain town would be something of great surprise as well. 

"So..." Cassie's brain began to tune in to regular lines of thought. "What is this? Am I being kidnapped?"

"No, no," Martin quickly and firmly assured. "Far from it, in fact. It's far more an honor, of sorts."

"Like, I'm going to get a free ride to college kinda honor," Cassie wondered, "Or am I a sarafice for the mole people?"

Chuckling, Martin began, "You see, Cassandra, -"

"Cassie," she interrupted. "You can calll me Cassie. Or Cass. Cassandra takes too long to say and it's kinda annoying."

Nodding slowly trying to recall what he had been saying, Martin did not in the slightest feel put off by her interruption. She had every right to feel nervous. "Er, yes, Cassie, the people that I represent are at risk of losing their cultural connections to the greater world. And as such, that is something I intend to correct."

"What do you mean by 'represent'? Are you, like, some kinda lawyer?" 

Raising his shoulders, Martin thought how best to describe his position within the community. "More like a politician with administrative responsibilities. It is my duty to ensure that my community stays far from harm from both within and beyond. You see, Cassie, like my post, your intended role is an honor, but it comes with responsibility."

"What kind a' responsibilities?" Cassie flashed to an image of her room; one of her daily chores was to make the bed and she was certain she forgot to do that this morning. She was not sure that she was necessarily the best qualified candidate for whatever came. "Could you, uh, give me a few more details. I'm getting a little nervous."

Nodding to show his understanding, Martin explained, "My people and I have kept our eyes on you for a long time." He lightly patted the file before him. "We are aware of your volunteering your Sundays at that older woman's farm and that you have frequently been a voice for those who could not speak for themselves. That's what we hope you can be for us, but it must remain a great secret. You see, on our side, we would ask you to be something of an ambassador. For those above...those outside of our community...well, I'd imagine if they found out they'd have darker intentions for you. Which is why it is so important that you never telll a soul about what I am about to reveal to you. You see, the last ambassador that we had several years ago, well, once people on the other side found out about his secret life, they took his business, his ranch, everything from him. They ruined him."

That odd feeling of being in a room with more people than she could see returned to Cassie. This was sounding like a significantly heavier task than making the bed. Clearing her throught to try to shake the feeling of being watched and being creeped out, she asked, "What is it that's so worth hiding? Is there like a gold mine down here or something?"

Martin crossed his fingers over her file and smiled. He had waited years to describe this wonderful place to others and this at last was his opportunity. "More than you will likely initially believe. Tell me, Cassie, what do you know about fairy tales?"

A look of extreme interest and confusion crossed Cassie's face, as from in the opening of the tunnel behind her, a hundred golf-ball sized eyes peaked out to see their new human ambassador.

To be continued...

Say whaaaa? What's down there? Where is Cassie? Who is this Martin? Want the answers?

Then we'll see you next week!

 

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

 

"Like A Girl"

It seems as if every hour of every day since Sunday we've been bombarded with "best-of" and "worst of" Superbowl commercials on the news and the radio, there's no escaping it. Except here. Well, sort of - this is a reading escape, but I'm going to call this week more of a reading segue.

For those of you who may have missed the Super Bowl, there was a commercial by Always talking about the phrase "like a girl". We've all heard it; likely we've used it at least once in our life. The typical meaning is that you throw or run or do something in a way that is flimsy for ditsy. But why is that phrase still acceptable in that context? Well, that's what Always is seeking to fix. That it is not okay to use it and that girls who are exposed to this phrase take enormous hits to their self conscious, even if the phrase (especially if) it is addressed to a boy. In my humble opinion, I think it is equally damaging to the young boys who hear/use the phrase. It tells them that girls are lesser to boys, weak, delicate, and people to talk down to. As I'm sure you all know, that is not the case.

The Superbowl commercial aired one version of this inspiring video, but another one was aired seven months ago and frankly, it's a bit better. Here it is:

How's that for inspiring??

Now, this video inspired another project that is quite close to home. My parents are a part of a Vintage Motocross club where a few months ago a special Women's Day event was held. My mom put together a great, amazing, incredible video about the pioneer FEMALE motocross racers. The club is called CALVMX and my mom is a part of the CALVMX ladies division. My mom's video shows how we girls can do it all! Not only does she show photos of the women motocross pioneers racing in the dirt, she interviewed a highly successful member of CALVMX's lady's club to show how women can dress up AND get dirty with pride! You will not believe how intense Ms. Kathy Wood's role in racing is, compared to those of the men. And yes, they race against men. You can bet, she rides like a girl!

Here's the amazing video my mom produced:

Oh yeah, and that's not Katy Perry live singing in that video - it's one of the ladies from the CALVMX club and also a racer, Sandi Weidler. Sayaka Kaneshiro, one of the women featured, just picked up a major big sponsor and she's in her early twenties. I've seen this gal race - HOLY COW. She is faster than you can begin to imagine.

So let the girls in your life know, to RIDE like a girl, to RUN like a girl, to THROW like a girl, or like me, to SAIL like a girl.

(Photo Courtesy of Devin Kain)

Yep, that's me. (By the way, the people on either side of me in this photo who I cropped out for their peace of mind, are women.) I spend my Sundays smelling like diesel fuel with the sun and the wind in my face. I get the fantastic and rare opportunity to be out on the water three days a week in sunny, beautiful Southern California and I just love it.

One time at the ships I was cleaning out the bilge of an older boat with another female mariner - we were wearing top to bottom plastic suits to keep ourselves safe while scrubbing out every nook and corner of the engine and oh yes, it was raining on us. But the job had to be done and we were the ones to do it. At one point my friend shouted out, I jumped up (as best as I could in the cramped engine) to make sure she was okay. With a pouty face, she said, "I broke a nail," and with a shrug, she moved on as if nothing happened. The whole time I was down there, happily scrubbing away, I was not concerned that my make up was going to run from the rain, and it didn't bother me at all that I was in a tight, cramped, uncomfortable, wet, smelly place that was my job to clean. Crazy as it may sound, I loved it.

That's right. We get dirty, we rough it up, but at the end of the day, we're still ladies and proud. So go on gals, ladies, and girls, go do what you love and don't give a second thought about what other people will think. The women I work with on the ships are some of the most incredible, intelligent, witty and strong (emotionally and physically) ladies I know. And if you hear some astray person telling someone else in an insult that they do something "like a girl," let them know that it's something to be proud of and NOTHING for which to feel ashamed.

Your humble author,
S. Faxon

PS - Here's a look at one of the BEST, most AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL AND ELEGANT female role models around - Betty White. Did you see the flash mob party in her honor???? She just turned 93. Wow. Watch this video at the best quality you can - her facial expressions are so heartwarming! And don't feel ashamed if this moves you to tears, you are not alone!:

If you haven't yet, share that video with everyone you know. I can almost guarantee their day will get better!