A Golden Eve

Good evening, All and Merry Christmas!

I'm sure you've been enjoying Christmas cookies, wrapping and unwrapping presents, preparing for outlaws...in-laws...cleaning, budgeting, spending....well, maybe it hasn't all been fun and good cheer, which is why you may be finding yourself here. I certainly hope you've had nothing but Christmas miracles this season (I've enjoyed one or two myself!), so I hope the Golden Perspective of Spiders, will help to change your moment around into something more bright! This is a story that my grandmother used to tell my sisters and me. She had these lovely golden beaded spiders that she would hang on the tree every year. I've posted this one once or twice before, but it's a classic we cannot let go. This is a section telling the tale from a book I published on this blog called Providence. If you'd like to see that read, here you go: Providence.

In that space of time the reverend stared at three faux-gold beaded spiders perched atop a mess of silver tensile on the far side of the room. The story of the three spiders briefly popped into the reverend’s head. He was very familiar with the tale of the arachnids being very curious about a tree, which came into their home. From their corner in the living room, they happily watched the family of the home adorn the tree with all sorts of sparkling decorations and candlesticks aglow. Once the family decided that their task had been one well done, the people left the living rooms to adjourn to their beds. The spiders took the opportunity to look at every limb and trinket upon the tree. They oohed at the golden beads. They awed at the knitted angels. But they were most struck and most impressed with the beautiful glass star that crowned the mighty tree. Quite simply, it was the most spectacular thing that the spiders had ever seen. Feeling satisfied by their explorations, the spiders lowered themselves to the ground, only to discover in great horror that they had unintentionally completely covered the entire tree and decorations with their webbing. The spiders began to wail and cry because they thought that they had had ruined the hard and magnificent efforts of the family with their mess of web. They wept from their despair. However, a shimmering light appeared and an angelic voice spoke to the three spiders and he said to them, ‘But, no, look again,’ and in an instant the grey web turned to silver tinsel and the three spiders glittered like gold from their unintended gifts. The tree was not ruined, but changed into something even more great. 

The reverend smiled to think of this story, which he told every year to the children of Providence on Christmas Eve with the intended message that no matter how messy or entangled life could sometimes become there is always a chance for a happy ending if one only looks at the situation another way. The changed perspectives of the spiders warmed the reverend's heart even though indeed his present situation  still appeared to be very dark. 

Merry Christmas everyone!!!! May it be blessed and full of peace!

Until next time dear readers,

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

This is Christmas

We've reached the season of Christmas. It was kicked off as it has been since 1924 by the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The balloons, the celebrities, the street performers were all there, but we all know there's really only one reason why we watch the parade; to see the man at the end. The world's most beloved soul, that magical being of Santa Claus, came riding down the streets of New York City on his magical red sleigh, with his dear reindeer leading the way. Thousands lined the streets and millions more tuned in on TV to see St. Nicholas, to be inspired by his cheer.

There's truly nothing like Christmas in New York. It can be a dingy, grey city, full of life and the buzz of millions doing their own routines. But, come Christmas, the city transforms. There's lights up and down Fifth Avenue. The ice rinks are filled with decorative skaters. There's a refreshing crisp bite to the air that makes you dream of sipping cocoa or sitting in warm pubs with friends. People transform. They're bright, they're kind. That's not to say New Yorkers aren't kind, but there's just a different lightness upon the air. The extra effort to smile at one another is made with almost every encounter. A good friend of mine in New York who is Muslim once told me that Christmas was his favorite time of year because everyone got along. This year, this Christmas let us carry that cheer, that warmth, that peace in our hearts with jubilant and joyous cries. Help your neighbors, help strangers. Extend hands to those you might not have before. Think of the pink-cheeked Santa riding up and down the streets of New York, bringing hope and glee to the children. Think of that lightness he brings to the city. Let your children know that he is real because he exists in our hearts. It is the love of Santa that we must share with our little ones this year and that, dear Readers, like the streets of New York, will also fill you with Santa's sweet cheer.

Until next time...

Your humble author,
S. Faxon

Thanksgiving Read

If you find yourself needing groceries today, but don't have time or the helpers to run to the store, use your Amazon Prime. They deliver fresh food from grocery stores to YOUR door within TWO hours. It's insane and amazing. I have a hard time in stores when there are a ton of people (shopping at Costco is always a challenge for me), so the Prime Now is a great deal. There are minimums, but they vary from store to store that Amazon uses. See for yourself. Try it out!

If you're looking for something different and easy to make, here's what I'm doing (all of these ingredients are available on Prime - guess how I know!):

4-5 ripe (squishy) persimmons
Box of mixed baby kale, baby spinach - or a box of each. Whatever you can find.
Soy sauce
Frying oil of choice -avocado works really well.
Mushrooms

Take 4-5 persimmons, dice them, then roast them at 350' for 15-20 minutes.

While that's going, pan sear mushrooms. There are a few tricks for mushrooms - if you can, buy prewashed. You want your mushrooms to be as dry as possible. If you can't find them prewashed (like I couldn't) wash them HOURS before you cook with a moist paper towel. Then, take a handful of mushrooms at a time, add salt to the oil to draw out flavor, and sear until brown. I use avocado oil. It takes about twenty minutes to do a standard box, so it works out nicely with the persimmons.

Next, mix the persimmons and mushrooms together and set aside.

Use a box of baby kale and baby spinach.  Mix in about a 1/4th cup avocado oil, and a tablespoon of soy sauce. Place veggies in oven and stir every few minutes. These really don't take long, so keep an eye on them. Once the veggies are about half way done, add the persimmons and mushroom. Once it's looking good, serve.

The flavors work beautifully together. If you have vegetarian folk coming to your Thanksgiving dinner, throw in a few Italian soy-sausages. We did this the other day when I hosted a Thanksgiving with Friends. Turned out pretty good.

The dinner was a ton of fun and I am so grateful to have such wonderful and dear friends.

What are you grateful for this year?

I'm also grateful for my dear readers! Thank you for tuning in and have a wonderful, happy Thanksgiving!

All my love,
Your humble author,
S. Faxon

From Her Eyes

The cat in the window peered into the night,

What her wide-moon-eyes gazed filled her with fright.

The humans went to bed, turned out the lights.

It was her alone who saw the witch take her flight.

On the lawn, the skeletons danced a jig,

The scarecrow played with the bugs in his wig.

The spiders in their sticky webs of white,

The slippery snakes searched for something to bite.

In brilliant pride, they all played their parts

To dare, to scare the children from afar. 

A dance on the lawn only one soul did see,

A tradition that occurred every Halloween.

Happy and safe Halloweens to you all my dear ghouls and booooys!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

Beneath the Nightstand

The small beetle that tried to take refuge in my suitcase ought to have been the first indication that my hotel room would be less than perfect. The sheets and towels looked clean. There were fresh tissues a new roll of toilet paper, and a bed for the night. Those were the priorities of what I required, so I shrugged and thought, 'no big deal.'

I went about my normal nightly routine, freshening up, laying out my clothes for the next day, fetching ice and flipping through the TV channels. My day of travel had been far more trying than I had anticipated; the four hour drive from the airport to my hotel may have significantly contributed to this desire of wanting to tuck in ASAP. As one does these days, I started looking for an outlet near to the bed, so that my phone/alarm clock could benefit from a restful snooze. There was one conveniently located right beneath the shelf-nightstand beside my bed. 'Perfect,' I thought, as it would be in reach of my arm when in the morning I'd be drowsily seeking the button to silence the alarm.

Blindly, for what did I have to fear or to look for,?I reached to plug in the charger and to my absolute horror my unsuspecting digits were entangled in the trap of a villain most foul.

Spider.

Ripping back my hand, I immediately began to shake it as if the motion would purge my mind of the sticky sense-memory that still gives me the chills. After this ritual that was done in vain, I kneeled down to peer at the extent of her kingdom.

It was far worse than I imagined.

Three battalions of eight legged privates lie in wait for graduation day. Their queen and commander lurked in her protected cell, watching me watching her watching me.

Know that I have profound respect for spiders. I understand that they create a balance in nature and that the odds of her troops marching against me in the night were small to none. However, seeing this army and their master thriving in a hotel room implied that there was plenty to eat, enough to propagate not merely one egg sack, but three.

The milk duds beneath their fortress must have been her traps, the lure she used to draw unsuspecting crawlers to their tombs.

Not wanting any part of this war between the eight and the six legged ones, I came to a decision; it was the spider and her children or me.

With great haste, I dialed the desk and though they were less than thrilled with my complaints, they agreed to relinquish me of this post...the next day.

I'd have to endure another seven and a half hours in her lair, with no tooth brush, not that it's relevant to this drama, but it was a pertinent fact to me at the time.

In a flash, all of my scattered belongings were returned to their bags. The spider and her minions would not be throwing their grappling hooks into my trappings if I could help it! Even my shoes were artfully shoved into my suitcase with whom I have shared so many adventures. We have weathered far worse than that spider's glare and we would indeed live to travel another day, leaving our foe in peace after what was a very long night.

Until next week, dear readers,

Your humble author,
S. Faxon

PS - Don't forget to look beneath the nightstands...

Home Again

At the top of a hill lie a market. Over the years, the market has had many names and the emblems of numerous companies on their carts, but there was one that has been a part of my life for its entirety; Keil's. 

Every day of my childhood, yes, every day, my grandma and I would drive Morena Boulevard, make a left up Clairemont Drive and go to the neighborhood market. Grandma and I would enter the automatic door, she with her full size cart and I with the quarter-size one made for minis like me. Right after we'd enter, we'd divide the list and conquer the groceries as a team. 

While strolling up and down the aisles, grandma would almost always find a neighbor, a racquet tennis mate, or a familiar face with whom to pass the local gossip or catch up. This was the Keil's experience. It was a dry Cheers, a place where people may not have known your name, but they knew your face. And they smiled, quite often they visit too. It was an exceptionally friendly and welcoming place.

Cans of peaches, cottage cheese, Lawry's Taco seasoning, Kraft slices, turkey sausage, tomatoes, Folger's instant decaf, lettuce and ground 'round, as we called it, would fill our carts and we'd reconvene at the front. While in line grandma would grab one Snickers bar and add it to the batch. 

She ate one Snickers every day of the latter half of her life. Just one. It was her treat. Sometimes for me, the treats that I liked to get were the raspberry hot cocos or Zebra or Double Bubble gum. Though it's been well over fifteen years, I still recall the taste of that chewy gum. 

Almost always we would know the cashier and would visit with them too. The baggers would pass our aisle as they knew that I liked to help and would bag our own groceries. We'd then take our bags, get back in Snagglefang and drive home to enjoy our treats.

After after grandma passed away and after I went to college, my accessibility to the old neighborhood dwindled. It wasn't until recently that I started shopping there again and to my absolute HORROR Keil's was closing. CLOSING!!! This sweet community hub was being pushed out by the increasing rent and a corporation. The people who had worked there my entire life were being let go and the neighborhood market was coming to an end. 

I knew that there wer but a few days left, so I went to the Keil's and filled my basket with the familiar items of old. As I was on the verge of crying in this place that I considered an extension of my grandma, I ran into a friend who is a volunteer at my nine-to-five. He and I visited for about twenty minutes beside the onions and their accompanying produce. In the back of my thoughts, I realized that this visit was a little gift from grandma. She knew that this moment of closure wouldn't be complete without the full Keil's experience.

I visited for the last time with one of the cashiers and with a heavy heart, I walked out those automatic doors for the last time. It broke my heart as I sat in Snagglefang, crying and clutching onto my bag of goodies. I thought, "This is it. You really can't go home again."

This fall has been one of change. Not merely the leaves or the weather (ironically ours is increasing in heat); one of these changes has been particularly exciting and terrifying all in one. I recently moved to a new house, a completely new neighborhood and I even have a new member of the family, but more on my new baby later. 

Of course my cat child Bella-Beep has come along and she is less than completely happy with the move, but she is adjusting nicely. It's taken some settling, but I think that Bella and I will be ok. This is a completely foreign neighborhood to me, so it's taking some trials and errors to figure out traffic, lights, lanes and where to go for food. Thus far, I've been deemed a regular at one taco shop, one drive-through-cafe, and one brewery and I've only been here a week! What does that say???

I was having a bit of trouble finding groceries - obviously with so many takeouts. I asked my friend who helped me find this home and is far more familiar with this area than I if he had any recommendations. He said, "Yeah, follow me." So we both jumped in our cars and he took me to the nearest grocery store and what do you know...

You can go home again. 

In a completely different part of town, in this period of change in my life, here was something quite familiar and something I loved ready to welcome me to my new home. 

My first night here in the house with Bella, I made a comfort meal that would make my grandma proud.  

Almost every dinner we enjoyed at grandma's would be accompanied with pears in a bed of cottage cheese laying atop a leaf of lettuce. It was usually garnished with paprika or cinnamon. I had neither at the time, so I used turmeric, which was delicious.

I can hear her sweet laugh and I'm so grateful to God that of all neighborhoods I moved to, grandma was already here waiting for me at the Keil's up the street. 

Until next time when I tell you about my new baby,

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

Letters At Last!

Haaaaarryyyy Potterrrr....

You know how to read that, but if not, please take a moment to go catch up on some reading and movies.

There are few Millennials I know who were not mortified when on their eleventh birthdays the post failed to deliver their Hogwarts acceptance letters. For you non-HP peeps, when young witches and wizards turn eleven they receive their letters telling them that they have been accepted to the most prestigious Wizarding school in the world: Hogwarts.

As Muggles, non-magical folk, we hoped and we prayed for our letters, but it was just not to be. The years passed by and we grudgingly accepted that it was just not meant to be.

But then, a ray of hope was born. Dumbledore, the Head Master of the school and the greatest wizard of all time brought great change to the Wizarding world; Muggles would be admitted to Hogwarts.

AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!

And with this news an idea was born.

My bestie, Ms. Victoria, has a birthday a-comin' and for those of you who've been reading a while, you know how much I love a surprise. It had been a few years since I'd done a big one, so I realized the time had come.

With the aid of Victoria's mom and sister, an owl bearing her acceptance letter arrived.

Victoria and I were going to Hogwarts.

We boarded the Hogwarts express at the San Diego Old Town platform, which we'll just go ahead and call Platform 9 3/4s. On our train, we had a little visit from the Honeydukes express trolley. We ate delicious gluten free pumpkin pasties (I used gluten free flour).

We stayed at a B&B that made the Leaky Cauldron seem like a five star resort, then we braved the underground of Los Angelas to find our way to the gates.

(It may have taken us 40 minutes at the sub station to even find the map and another 10 minutes to figure it out, but I digress...)

We were among the few who were granted access through the gates an hour ahead of the rest. We and a group of Muggles dressed in our robes and uniforms, entered the Magical Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

We walked with the others to the music for the Ministry of Magic surrounding us, until we passed through the gates of Hogsmeade and there she was.

Hogwarts.

It was like walking into the pages of the stories. Every detail was there right down to the trees. We 

all entered Hogsmeade with eyes aglow.

As we explored the grounds of our new school, my eyes filled with tears.

It was beautiful.

Having written a creative word or two, I could only imagine the pure, honest joy of Lady Rowling as she walked through the images of her own imagination. Seeing my books available for sale alone has been a blessing, but to have your imagination brought to life for the world to see on the screen and now to have the campus of your school become palpable, interactive and living to Muggles, it was moving. I was so happy for her, so excited for us!

Victoria and I entered the school and raced through the skies with Harry and Ron. 

We took flight with Buckbeak. 

We sipped butter beer AND it was delicious.

At Olivander's, our wands chose us. 

The kid in the background's face says he's thinking, "You guys are way too old for this." My response, "Someday, you'll get it."

Strolling through the streets, we put our new found magic skills to the test! And what d' you know? There was a bit o' magic in us muggles after all!

Hogwarts is THE most magical place I've seen. If you haven't been, go get your letters folks. 

A magical adventure is awaiting. 

Until next time dear readers,

Your humble magical-muggle author,

S. Faxon