Update

The Exciting Conclusion to Last Week's "Four for Four"

Our last adventure left us dangling on the edge to see what surprise our protagonist had plotted...

June 2013
It had been too long since the warmth of the California summer sun had touched our protagonist, i.e. me, so I was itching with homesickness. As luck and fate would have it, my position at work has a "down" season during summer (still equally busy, but no events on campus), so I grabbed the bullet and bought my ticket for home. Almost as soon as I clicked the button "confirm purchase" for my e-reservation, the desire to do it rose up one more time. With that familiar feeling of sneakiness and giddiness, I reached out to Deana, my best friend Victoria's little sister on Facebook:

Me- Are ye ready for an adventure, laddie? I'll be coming home soon and I need a co-conspirator to help me surprise Victoria - she doesn't know when I'm coming back. Are you up for the challenge?

May 17th, 4:31pm

Deana - yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me - Excellent. I'll be flying in on the 4th of June and my plan is as follows: if she is working that day, you offer to pick her up from work and I go with you. Or, if she is free that day, you two go out on an outing (even if it's just to the Jack in the Box) and I'm just conveniently there.

Deana- if we were at jack in the box you could bump into her and say excuse me

Me - lol, ask her for ketchup

Deana - perfect!!! june fourth is a tuesday. she probably wont be working so lets do jack in the box. or brainstorm over the next few weeks... so she has no idea?? how long are you staying?? YAAAAAYAYA

Me - She knows that I'm considering coming home, but my tickets are already bought.

I'm moving out of my apartment and everything. I'll be there for a number of months

I have to run away from the office now (it's friday!) I'll talk to you soon!!!!

Deana - ok farewell snarah!!!! more to come!!

May 22nd, 11:19pm

Deana - We should do our meeting shenanigans at a boba place.. do you like boba?! or the Crow! I feel like that'd be beyond perfect. I am getting so excited! Funniest thing.. Victoria is sitting right across from me!

May 23rd, 6:22am

Me - Lol, the crow might be great. I do like boba. It's empowering, no? Just 1 more full week!!!!

May 30th, 12:50pm

Me - I'm getting sooooooooo excited!!!! I can't wait to come home!!!

May 30th, 2:21pm

Deana - me too!!! i cant wait to see vics face

June 3rd, 4:02pm

Me - Mmmmm-k, here are the details for tomorrow. I'm landing at 11:45 am. My mom is going to pick up the cat & me. We're going to go home and settle the cat - likely to have lunch w/ the madre. I'll stay at my place for a little while, then we're likely to go out to dinner tomorrow night. SOOO, like 4ish, do you want to meet at the crow and then the two of you accompany my family and me to dinner?

June 3rd, 7:55pm

Deana - ok!! hmmm ill ask victoria tonight if she wants to go to the crow tomorrow

June 4th, 1:02am

Deana - Alert alert vic works till 630 tomorrow!!

but she said she'd go to the crow after with me!!

June 4th, 7:55am

Me - Cool. Would you all be game to do dinner too?;

June 4th, 12:02pm

Deana - yes!

(Ugh, the stupid highlighting won't go away).

The plan was set. My family knew that I was coming home, but I swore them to secrecy along with my friends out east. No one was allowed to post on my facebook a "farewell" or a "welcome back" until my mission was seen through. These dastardly plots are not easy to see through. Even I almost blew this one while I was on the phone with Victoria. Numerous fun and unexpected things happened while I was moving out of my apartment and I couldn't share them with my best friend for the longest time, but then at last the morning of my trip came.

With the cat and my two pieces of small luggage, I entered my cab before the sun rose, JFK bound. It had not been my intention, but I ended up getting several hours of naps en route to San Diego. The week preceding my departure had been very stressful and very hot. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. The hour before my flight, while waiting to board, I took the cat child and put her carrier in a small, but warm nook where there were less people (our cab ride scared her something terrible - it scared me too). To help calm her, I laid down on the carpeted floor, stuck my hand in her carrier so that she could feel my heartbeat, I set my phone's alarm for forty minutes and then I crashed. It was a great short nap, but it would be the first of three for that morning. After settling on the plane and maybe a minute after takeoff, I was floating in my own set of clouds, deep asleep, with my face leaned against the window. I'm sure that my mouth was agape and the likelihood of me drooling on was pretty good, but it didn't bother me. I can sleep anywhere, which may not always be a good thing. I woke up to order my free cup of Dunkin on the plane, but only to fall right back asleep again as I waited for the coffee to kick in. Once it did, I picked up the current Dan Brown book that I was reading (endorsement alert!) as I am currently addicted to his stories about Robert Langdon...(maybe I'll do a book review for next week's entry). The flight flew by in a breeze - four hours and forty minutes. Because we were so early, we ended up being ferried around the runway for another twenty minutes, which was maddening. I was in San Diego, staring up at Banker's Hill and over at the old Point Loma Marine base, but I was stuck in the plane. 

Soon enough, we were released and I was reunited with my mom! On our way back to the house, we stopped at a Mexican fast food spot and I tasted an authentic, amazing, wonderful, spicy and cheap bean and cheese burrito. One word: heaven....I seem to be hungry all of a sudden.

My mom and I waited until my dad returned home from work then we hopped in the car and headed to Old Town where my best friend would be. We met Deana in the parking lot and thus engaged ourselves in stealth mode. My parents went on to find us a table at a restaurant while Deana and I implemented our plan. There was no real thought process behind our plot; I believe plans were discussed of obtaining a Delorean, a clock tour, and fliers that said, "Save the clock tower," but we did not have the time to print the fliers. 

As luck would have it one of Victoria's co-workers emerged from the shop to take out the trash. Deana acted fast and asked this young lady if she would be able and willing to help us surprise Victoria. She agreed and was very excited to be a part of our shenanigans. The co-worker reentered the shop and Deana and I took our positions. The back door of the shop in which Victoria works has a blind back door, so we could have been running a muck in the back and she wouldn't have seen us until she opened the door. So Deana and I made the best available decision; we took the two chairs that were on the back porch and put them directly at the bottom of the short stairs on the dirt path, directly in view sight. We positioned ourselves like proper English chaps and discussed how this would have been better if we had pocket watches and corn pipes, but we were working with what we had. As we sat there waiting, we discussed normal things, which would have seemed very odd to anyone walking by. But then the door clicked and Deana's and my conversation dropped dead.

We stared up at the door with pleasant smiles on our face as Victoria emerged. She stopped walking and stared at the pair of us for a long while, her expression staying blank. Then the best line came, which I'll never tire hearing from her (in context), "I hate you."

After the immediate shock passed, we all laughed and hugged and it was wonderful. Then we all went to dinner with my parents (more Mexican food - constant heaven) and had a marvelous time. So yes, I am reporting from America's Finest City and it is very good to be home. 

Four for Four

I don't say it to boast, but I'm a master of surprises. Not just any of the run-of-the-mill surprises. I surprise people by showing up without them knowing when they think that I am on the other side of the country. Allow me to explain.

For those of you who are new to the blog, I attended college in NYC, but grew up in San Diego, CA. I have spent the last five years in NYC and being that the continental US stands between home and me, I don't get to see my friends and family out west too often and when I do, it's usually been for Christmas break or for the summer holiday. While it is always good to go home, there have been four visits that have been particularly memorable. These were the ones in which I came home from the east coast unannounced.

The First

The first time I did this was December of 2008. It was my first semester away from home and I was extremely homesick. New York was great, but because my university was in a remote location and because there was snow and I was a life-long Cali girl, this strange place was feeling too foreign for me. With the permission of my professors, I was able to take my finals early and hop on board a plane homeward bound on December 11, my birthday. I took an early morning flight and made it to SD around late morning. I went home, freshened up and waited for the right time to strike...

My folks and sisters knew that I would be back, but there was one person in particular who was unaware and she was my target. In the afternoon, I hopped in my car (that first drive when home is always the best feeling!) and headed over to her house. I parked around the corner from her house, where I could see her family's property and then I made the call.

"Hi, Victoria!" I happily greeted, using my cell phone from inside the car.

"Aren't I supposed to call you on your birthday?" Victoria asked, and rightfully so.

Talking on my feet I answered, "Yeah, but I'm all alone in the cafeteria and I was really missing home."

We talked for a little while and then directly across the street from me (on the side of my best friend's house), men started to do construction on the sidewalk and it was egregiously loud.

"What's that noise?" Victoria asked.

My heart started pounding from the nervousness that she would make the connection between the noise on the phone and the noise near her house, so I answered quickly, "Oh, they're renovating a part of the cafeteria," which wasn't a total lie as back in NYC they were doing work on the inside of the cafeteria.

To my ultimate delight, Victoria accepted this and the conversation moved on. 

"Well, at least you'll be home soon," Victoria said, as indeed it was just a couple of days before the regular semester ended.

Our conversation rolled to an end and I'm fairly certain that our chat ended with, "See you soon."

Then, like a panther, I stalked across the street, ran to the front of her house and rang the door bell. 

The door opened. 

Through the screen, Victoria stared at my smiling face for half a minute then said, "I hate you" and slammed the door on my face.

Yes, the door reopened. No, she doesn't hate me. We laughed and hugged and all was wonderful. I sat at the kitchen-bar in their house and one-by-one Victoria's family returned home and their looks of shock and disbelief that I was sitting in their kitchen still make me smile. 

The Second - Spring 2010

My mom had been missing me terribly that year, but I told her that there was no way that I would be able to afford (financially and academically) to go home for Easter. Mom understood, but still, it was tough. 

One day while on Spring Break (Spring Break precedes Easter Break at my University), my sister Amanda began to chat with me online.

"So when are you coming home?" she asked.

"Summer," I replied. I was in the study lounge of my school trying to stay busy and get ahead of school work so that I could relax a little - my field (Government & Politics) is a demanding subject if one wants to stay up with current events. "Can't afford until then," I further explained.

"What if we half it?" Amanda asked and that's what we did. 

Amanda picked me up from the airport and directly from there, she was supposed to meet our parents for a walk and then for lunch. We drove to the lovely, seaside park where my parents were just parking. Then, out from the car I popped. My mom and dad's faces were dumbstruck. It was great to see them. This turned out to be a very exciting Easter as it was the Sunday when Mexico/Southern California was hit by a 7 pointer earthquake (the story for which will likely be featured in an upcoming blog). 

The Third - Spring 2012

There is one more to follow, but this was my crowning glory of surprises. There were multiple targets:

-Victoria

-Her sister Deana

-My oldest sister Tiffany

-The parents

An operation of this size required two co-conspirators: my sister Amanda picked me up from the airport and I had been coordinating with Victoria's boyfriend, Joey, for the first surprise. My co-conspirators had been sworn to secrecy, and all was looking good. Joey had Victoria at Sea Port Village and they were walking around on a romantic date. We were supposed to meet at the Upstart Crow Coffee House, but as Joey and I were texting madly, the plan altered some, which increased the need for stealth. Seaport Village is a lovely spread of cobblestone paths, cottage-style shops, with the marina, Coronado Bridge, and Downtown as its borders. It's beautiful, it's peaceful, but it's an adrenaline driving place to be trying to sneak up on someone.

After being thrown out from my sister's car (I'm not even sure that it came to a full and complete stop), I entered the danger zone. The final text that I received from Joey was that they were on the white wall by the kite shop. The white wall lines the village and it is a good spot to sit and watch the shining waters carry the sailing ships and the naval vessels. I knew exactly where they were and I could feel my adrenaline turn into pure giddy happiness. As I passed the popcorn machine stand and hopped down the small flight of stairs, I spotted them. I started giggling from the excitement and from the scene the pair of them were. Joey had his arm around Victoria's shoulders, which looked romantic at first glance, but a closer look saw that he was clutching on to her to keep her from turning around. Luckily, Victoria didn't think anything of this, but I had to use every ounce of my strength to not burst out laughing. Tapping her on the shoulder seemed to elementary for something as well produced as this, so instead, I did the best thing I could do: casual as ever, (possibly on the creepy side), I sat right next to Victoria and stared at her.

A lag period occurred. Before she turned to look at me, I saw the expression change on her face. Her eyes grew wide as she realized that some crazy woman was sitting uncomfortably close to her. She sat up really straight, then her eyes slowly rolled toward me, then her face turned as she started to realize that this wasn't just any crazy lady. In the background, Joey had his phone out and was ready for the kodiak moment, which was still coming as Victoria was processing what was happening. I was smiling wide by this time as my best friend was staring directly at me.

"You!" she exclaimed to me, then she quickly turned and pointed at Joey and scornfully shouted, "YOU!" then she turned back to me and then happily said, "You!" 

The success of the Sea Port run took me to target number two: Deana. Victoria, Joey and I walked around Sea Port then decided to go on back to Victoria's house. Victoria joined as a conspirator and  once we got back to their house, Joey and Victoria went inside in order to ask Deana to take out the trash bag to the trash can on the curb. I was hiding behind their car. Deana emerged, missing that the trash cans were still inside of the garage. She almost walked by me, but then she looked up. Upon seeing me, Deana leapt back several feet and screamed.

With the rest of us laughing, Deana pointed at me and said, "It's not real! I don't trust it!"

Which made me feel great, but given the circumstances, being called "it" is not so uncalled for.

The parents of Victoria and Deana were also in for surprises. When Victoria's mom came in, I hid beside the couch on the floor and Deana pointed in my direction and said to her mom, "Look at the stain Victoria made on the floor."

Being a mom, this was both not surprising yet still irritating to Laura, so she came to have a look and what stain should be there staring back but me!

And then came the final oo-rah. Joey, Victoria and I drove down to OB (Ocean Beach) to meet my sister and her boyfriend. We all hung out for some time. I had been in San Diego for six hours and my parents were blissfully unaware that I was in the city, let alone the West Coast. My band of conspirators traded hands; I was now in the care of Amanda and Tim. Our targets were now the final three: Mom, Dad, and my oldest sister Tiff. The location: our go-to Mexican restaurant.

Amanda and Tim had arranged for a family dinner (it was the week before Easter after all), and the parents were suspicious that this pair had an announcement to make that would result with a wedding....

As we were in the car approaching the restaurant, Tim shouts, "They're in the parking lot!!"

Sure enough, my parents had just parked and were getting out of their car. Amanda yelled at me to dive, and so I did. No one has ever unbuckled their seat-belt to dive behind the driver's seat faster than I did that day.

The parking lot of this restaurant circles around the central building, so while waving to my parents, my sister gunned the engine to disappear on the other side of the restaurant. After parking, Amanda and Tim yelled at me to get out of the car and hide. In my jetlagged and confused state of mind I started running for the front of the restaurant...where my parents were. Amanda and Tim yelled at me to stop. The plan was for me to wait until everyone was seated and then to casually join them at the table like nothing at all.

I waited on the side of the restaurant with many a confused passerby asking me why I was hiding in the backdoor way that is closed to non-employees. Not too many people seemed to appreciate the awesomeness of the master plan of surprising the parents.

The inside of this restaurant is dimly lit, so I was able to enter without being noticed. Our party was large (as it usually is), so my family was placed at a large booth toward the back. Without being too obvious, yet still catching uncertain glances from people, I rushed to the back of the restaurant and sat down quickly, gracefully, quietly beside my sister Tiff.

Almost exactly like Victoria, Tiff's face made that unsure expression before slowly looking to her left. Her expression was one of confusion, like she knew she knew me, but that I also must be some sort of eidolon.

Then my dad, who was directly across from me looked up. He was in shock for the following 20 or so minutes. Who I was and the fact that I was there clicked right away for my mom, though she was equally as surprised. Many hugs, laughter and tortilla chips later, my family learned at this same sitting that my application to be a professor had been accepted. It was a great gathering, and of course, a great, spicy meal. Mmmm, Mexican food.....I may have to go and get a burrito now.

Seeing that my right hand is currently swollen (I think I should probably look in to acupuncture and stop typing), I'm going to wrap up for now to do some research and to get a burrito. Tune in next week for the amazing conclusion of "Four for Four"!

Your humble and currently hungry writer,
S. Faxon

Special Edition: In Memory of Coco Faxon

A church bell rang out across the grounds of Columbia. I knew that it was for a ceremony for all of the commencements happening this week and that it resembles happiness, joy, renewal. But, unfortunately, for me, that morning it sounded much more like a knell. For more than half of my life, I've had a constant friend and companion. On Wednesday night, I learned that my fourth sister, my dog Coco, passed away.

At first it seemed too hard to believe. The day before I had been on the phone with my dad (Coco was back in San Diego with my parents), and she was barking in the background, I spoke to her on the phone and she was fine.

Sometimes we are presented with unexpected tragedies and they do bring a world of hurt. However, I made a vow when I started this blog that this would not be a sounding board for rants or for anger or sadness. And I will hold true to that. My heart is breaking, but there is no better way to express love and care for someone lost than to celebrate the goodness of their life after they have passed. So, this blog post is dedicated to my dog and all of the warmth, laughter and joy that she brought into the life of my family, friends and me.

In late December of 2001, my sisters and I convinced our parents that we needed a dog. Not that we wanted one, but that our childhood would not be complete without a dog and that it was the duty of our parents to fulfill this standard base requirement. We went to the local shelter (go adoption!) and we looked at a number of pooches. Then, about a week into our search, my dad came home saying that he had found one that we were all going to love. I remember walking down the hall at the pound with dogs yipping and barking and running around playfully, all looking at me with eyes that said, "Choose me!" At the T section of the hall there was a pen with three puppies: a chow, a pit bull  and this pathetic looking brown pup with a long tail and white paws. The pit bull was beating her up and she looked up at us through the gate with her big round eyes and we all knew. This was the one.

We put down our names for her immediately, but there was a one week waiting process. This pup had been left to be "held," but if no one claimed her in that span of time, she would be ours. The only trick was that if we were not at the pound at a certain time that afternoon, the pup would go to the next family in line. I remember telling my teachers at the end of school on that day, that I had to hike it out of there, so that we could go and get this perfect puppy. My dad, my sisters and I made it to the pound with a good half hour to spare. In my then eleven years of life, this was the longest half hour I'd ever withstood. But when it ended, we were the first in line. The pup with the white tip on her tail was ours. As my dad filled out the paper work, a lady approached him and said that if we decided that we didn't want the dog that we should give her a call. I guess that her family was second in line.

The way that CA adoption policy works, the dog has to be spayed before coming home, so we didn't get to bring Coco home for a couple of days. We picked her up from the vet a few days later. It was rainy, which was odd for San Diego. The pup, in a cardboard box, and I were put in the back of my dad's truck (not the bed), where we stared at each other the hole ride home.

It was not long at all until that dog and I were like "pees and carrots." She was my shadow. She followed me everywhere. That sixty-five pound dog and I slept together every night in my bed - her taking up most of it. Whenever I would get ready to sleep, she would sit at the side of the bed and watch for me. I'd climb in to claim my spot and then I'd pat on the side and say, "Hup-hup," and up she'd come. The reason for why I'm such a deep sleeper is probably because I was conditioned for most of my life to ignore the sounds of a loudly snoring dog sleeping on my arm. She would lay right beside me, cuddled up to my side. I'd put my right arm out straight and she would use it as a pillow. We'd sleep the whole night that way. It's strange to think that the next time that I go home, there won't be a dog to keep me warm at night.

My dad goes to work really early, so every day (even on the weekends) Coco would be fed bright and early. Dad would take her for her walks around the neighborhood and she would bark at her favorite dogs. But she was a very good dog and never bit anyone or anything, she didn't even go after Bella when I took the cat home this past winter.

My sister Amanda and her boyfriend, Tim, would care for the dog, also known as "The Face," when my parents would go on long trips. This past weekend, Tim sent us the below photo saying, "Guess who's sleeping on the floor."

Coco would also accompany my parents on occasion in the RV. She was a moto-enthusiast, just like the rest of my family.

Of all the members in my family, Coco had the most nicknames: the Face, Coco-face, babushka (it's Russian for 'grandma' because we'd occasionally put bandannas or scarves over her ears and she would look like an elder woman from the old country - absolutely no offense intended.), baby-dog. We called her Face because when we'd come home after going out to dinner, or if she hadn't seen one of us for a long time, while her entire body wagged from her happiness, a side of her face would scrunch up, like she was trying to smile, but couldn't and it was absolutely hilarious and super cute.

My grandma used to say that Coco had the most human eyes of any animal she had ever seen. It was true, while her eyes were caramel, when she looked at you, it was like she understood. Comforting us when we were sick. Always giving us a good laugh.

My mom put together a beautiful tribute to help us say goodbye to our baby.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO1yPTFGDX0&feature=youtu.be

This hasn't been easy to write. I intentionally did it while at work, so that I would not be a sobbing mess, but still, I drew the attention of my colleagues and they were very understanding and supportive. I'm glad that they were around. It makes it a little easier to be surrounded by good company at a time like this.

I will always miss you and love you, Coco. You truly were the best dog anyone could have ever had.

Coco Faxon

2001 - 2013

"Take Me Out to the Ballgame"

If any of this is highlighted in white, I apologize ahead of time.

“Choosing a path means having to miss out on others” 

― Paulo Coelho

I recently saw this quote on my friend Gillian's Facebook and it couldn't be more true for this week's post. While I'm not sure what my plans were any more for last Monday night (but I'm certain there was something) around midday, my colleague peaked her head up so to see me above my monitor (our desks face each other) and said, "Hey, Sarah, wanna go to a Yankee game tonight?"

I thought on it for half of a second then said, "Sure."

Danielle then returned to her phone conversation and said, "Yeah, Sarah's in; she's the easy one to convince." Or something to that effect.

'Tis true. Life has taught me that even the best laid plans can distract you or detract from potential greatness. There's a fantastic line in the Pirates of the Caribbean movie (I think the first), where the pirates who are allegedly governed by the sacred code "as laid forth by Morgan and Bartholomew". Someone (not a pirate) says when she sees that they are deviating from their constitution, "What about the code?" 

The pirates shrug and say, "They're more like guidelines." 

I think we should use the same approach to plans, especially after my Monday night.

The regular workday played-on; did some grant-writing training, knocked out an expense report, taped things to paper, etc. (If you're a regular reader, you should know by now that this job is anything but dull or in-need of excitement). But at one point I realized that it was going to be chilly out, and my little university fleece would not meet the grade at Yankee Stadium. For weeks I've been putting off purchasing a Columbia Uni sweatshirt, but this was just the push that I needed. 

The end of the work-day rolled around and Danielle and I were ready to fly. We made a last minute decision to take the train into Harlem as opposed to waiting for the bus, which turned out great. We were able to stop by her apartment to freshen up and Danielle was able to grab some warmer clothes for herself, little did we know (I just love that cliche) how good these decisions to grab extra layers would turn out to be.

Yankee Stadium
If you live in NYC and you haven't been, why not? This was my second official visit to the area, and while I hear that Old Yankee Stadium was a sight to see, the new Yankee Stadium is a monolith of its own right.

Danielle and I were awed by the sights, the sounds, the crowds and we completely bi-passed the gate where  her step-dad was waiting for us with the tickets. With the flotsam and jetsam that is the hour before gametime, this isn't hard to do. It was like floating through a sea of Yankee-blue decorations. But of course, this is New York, so the awe of it all would occasionally bring us back to NYC, when a disgruntled fan would scream profanities for people getting in their way. Don't slow down or physically block New Yorkers; it never works in your favor.

Eventually, we made our way to Gate 6, found Rob, and into the Stadium we went. My first time to Yankee stadium was about a year ago and this time around, the stadium was equally as incredible.

As a nerd with a particular emphasis on New York history, being surrounded by something that is such and has been such an integral part to New York life, was spectacular. Not going to lie, I don't know much about the game - I was raised in a Charger/Dallas football-only household, but I do enjoy watching baseball and playing very much. Regardless if the Yankees won or lost, it was going to be a great and blog-worthy experience.

We left our extra ticket with will-call for a friend that was coming later and then headed off to our seats. And boy were we delightfully surprised-

We were in the section where there were warnings on the back of every seat that said "Look out for foul balls and bats." The seats were padded, the leg room was great, and, believe it or not, we had the option of not leaving our seats to go and get treats.

In-seat service, baby. But we chose to go the old-fashioned way and stand in line ourselves. It was interesting though to watch the runners come and check the placards to see if anyone was ready to order anything and a number of people did. If you spend that much for seats, you might as well. But being as our tickets were free...

The game was delightfully engaging. The first foul ball landed a couple of rows in front of us. A camera guy came right up in Danielle's face and she and a corner of me ended up on the mega-tv for the whole stadium to see! There was even a marriage proposal on the mega-screen and as it turns out, the lucky guy and lady were about thirty feet to our lefts. (She said 'yes').

Our missing friend, Rachael, came and joined us and we discussed the many meanings of "ramparts" from the National Anthem, the awesomeness of the seats, and we witnessed what it means to have the foam-finger in the first-class seats -

The life of the game came from four young men who were sitting just behind us. One of them was particularly verbal, but he was not profane in any way. At one point, there was a huge argument among the umpires and the Yankees coach, and we were privileged enough to hear "first-hand' the conversation thanks to these guys, one of whom was clairvoyant and was channeling word for word the dialogue. This gave us and the people directly behind us a ton of laughs. When the young man stopped his prolific expressions, the people behind us cheered him on and told him that the game wasn't worth it without his dialogue. Delighted by this, the man stood up and started berating  and coaching the players again.

Toward the end of the game, Rachael pointed to the back of the field and said, "Isn't it a trip how there's a wall of television screens?"

To which I replied, "That's a club." I had been in there once before thanks to a trip I made to Yankee stadium last year. It wasn't much, I explained, but the view of the field was incredible. Granted, our seats were incredible.

Upon further examination of our tickets, Rachael said, "Hey look, we can get into that club." Sure enough, our tickets granted us access to the exclusive Mohegan Sun bar. So, Danielle, Rachael, and I skipped off on a little adventure to the Mohegan Sun to see what was inside. When we got there, we were a little let down. I'm not sure that if I'm "allowed" to write about it, but the views at our seats were better. If anything, it was warmer in the enclosed club and the bathroom was nice.

Back out into the cold we journeyed, returning to our seats. Our tummies were starting to rumble and it was getting very cold, but we still had a great time. And the Yankees won.

After the game, we skipped off to enjoy cocktail hour at Applebee's where the good times continued to roll. It was a great night and even though we had to be back at work early the next morning, what is a lack of sleep when compared to the joy brought by spontaneity?

"Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit."

-Henry David Thoreau.

Your humble writer,

S. Faxon

Special Edition: Mother's Day

Whether we outright acknowledge it or not, we all have heroes or idols to whom we model our lives or to whom we look for strength and guidance. For me, my hero is my mom. There are so many articles and conversations out there right now saying that women can't have it all, mostly meaning a career and a family, that they have to make a choice, have to make sacrifices. But my mom, she's done it all.

While managing earning her degree and working full time, my mom was an active, involved, and supporting participant in the lives of her four daughters. There was never a competition, performance or birthday missed. And we were very active youngins. My sisters and I were involved in Girl-scouts dance, band, ballet and orchestra. And she was always there snapping a million photos, capturing every moment.

For guidance and wisdom, kitchen company, and many, many laughs, I know to turn to my mom. I'm so glad and so proud to call her my mom that I wanted to share this sentiment with you, dear readers.

To you, mom, I am sorry that I could not be there with you for Mother's Day back home, and I know that that it is tough with the continental US separating us, but know that you are with me in my heart always. Love, your baby.

My mom, my sisters and me in Summer of 2011

Weather

In Southern California, when it rains the youth dash outside to feel the water falling from the sky upon their faces. It is refreshing. It is a blessing from the gods and they feel their pagan ancestors calling them to pay tribute, so they answer the call and prance barefooted or in flip flops (the general equivalent) in the puddles. It is ceremony of renewal. In Native American lore, rain is a symbol of cleansing, rebirth. When it rains on your wedding day, it is a sign of good luck.

When it rains in New York, forget about it.

Two steps out from my apartment on Wednesday, I was drenched. You know it is raining hard when every person on the bus looks like they took a dip in a pool in their professional attire. I started writing this blog while on the bus in the deluge on my way to work. I thought about texting my colleague, ''I'm wet and uncomfortable, may I go home?'' But, like the Post Office,  rain, sleet, plane delays, or super storms cannot stand in a peace builder's way.

Weather is fascinating to me. A childhood in So. Cal means that watching the weather forecast is not done to see the temperature, it is done to see John Coleman say, 'And the breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze....'

Daytime weather in So Cal is usually between 64* and 80* with low humidity, so this translates to New Yorkers as Florida without the sweating.

In my first year in New York it was the coldest winter in a decade if I am not mistaken. It does get cool (note that I didn't say "cold") in San Diego in December to February, but that's it and if it were to ever snow in San Diego proper, people would fear that the Apocalypse is near. Even in that movie, The Day After Tomorrow, in one of the scenes it is snowing on the San Diego/TJ border (Tijuana). So snow in SD = Bad News Bears. The first blizzard that I encountered was so alien to me. The university shut down for several days, but being that I lived in a dorm, I had to venture out into the wild to collect food.

Geared up in an ankle length, down parka, with jeans, sweats, gloves, thermal socks, boots, fur cap, and scarf I readied myself to be blasted. I never felt closer to my primordial ancestors than on this morning. 

When I first stepped outside of my dorm building, it was cold, but it wasn't horrendous. It was 19*, which is child's play to me now, but was misery to me then. I walked through the path, still covered in ice, through the walls of snow piled shoulder-high (keep in mind my shoulder height is around 4'8'') and toward the cafeteria that was at the end of a long corridor between buildings. On a normal day on this campus, this corridor is breezy as the campus is on a hill in deep Queens. On a blizzardy day, it is a vicious wind tunnel that seeks to suck the soul from your body. One step on to the central path and I was nearly blown over. Did I mention that the regular wind chill was -5? The tunnel windchill was probably -15. Not normal.

That day I saw many people get blown over onto their backs from the icie ground and the pushy wind. This just further proves my theory that we are meant to migrate south for the winter - the geese do it, why shouldn't we?

The next year brought us another winter full of snow. I was living on the campus in Manhattan then and two of my friends and I decided that we should celebrate the snow-day by migrating north (makes sense) to Central Park. We were going to have a real, right-proper snow day. So, my two warm climate friends (one from Barbados and the other from Texas), and I geared up and trekked out. Getting to the park was probably the most difficult part as many of the roads and paths had not yet been salted (this makes it sound like we live in some remote part of a mid-western state - no offense intended - but we lived smack in the middle of the Financial Center).

Looking north up West Broadway

When we made it to Central Park, we could not believe how much snow had fallen.

And we certainly had a blast playing in it.

Well, sort of - maneuvering in the snow after a lifetime of bare-feet/flip flops and sunshine was a bit exhausting.

But failing at making snowmen (being shown up by a youngster) and falling without the capacity to get up was a blast and a lot of laughs.

So errant weather will be what you make of it. It's raining here now and I'm using the time productively by blogging and grading finals. (Bella Tuna is using my distraction of blogging to raid my purse - I'm not really certain what she's after, but she's two thirds buried in my bag...I should probably stop her.)

Your humble writer,

S. Faxon