An open letter to Andre Ethier

Congratulations on the hit streak. With the Dodgers’ long and storied history of some excellent ballplayers, I’d feel proud to be second on the all-time franchise hit streak list. Thirty games is might impressive. Even more, it’s cool that with a game loss and end to your streak you still managed to crack jokes about the media attention.

I really enjoyed watching you get closer to breaking the record. I’m sad the hit streak is over.

You don’t know how much I wanted to see you get to 31. It would’ve made my 31-loving heart so incredibly happy. I didn’t even care all that much to see you beat Willie Davis’ 42-year record. I’d actually have been cool if the streak ended at 31 and you just tied him.

Okay, maybe not, but only because your hitting streak has been of the few bright spots in a season with lots of troubles on the field, in the front office, and even in the parking lot.

Yesterday’s game was tough to watch. It wasn’t just that you kept flying and popping out, and struck out in the 8th. No, it was even more difficult because we could have really used a hit in the 8th when Matt Kemp was in scoring position and the score was tied. Worse, the rest of the team seemed to have the same problem. Sigh. I’ll stop complaining.

I’m still a fan. That won’t change. And neither will your place as my current favorite on the team and one of my all time Dodger favorites. You’re certainly higher on the list than Davis. I’m happy I got to see the streak in person (#29 up there) and have been able to watch you grow with the Dodgers over the last five years. You’re proof that good things do come out of Arizona.

Hope to see more great demonstrations of your batting (and fielding) skills this season and hope you inspire the rest of the players to start using those bats as intended.

With mad respect,

Cindylu

P.S. Glad to see that batting power back today with your home run in the Dodgers’ first victory in 4 games. Maybe you do better without the added pressure and media attention.

Familia, Fotos

The favorites

Adrian and I like to say we’re my mom’s favorites. I think the above photo is proof. Plus, I know she thinks Adrian is her best looking kid. She was joking then, of course.

Happy mother’s day, Mom!

And happy mother’s day to all the other marvelous mamas out there, especially my grandmothers, great aunts, aunts, cousins and friends.

Now, off to help with the tamales!

(Note: I didn’t pose with the beer because I wasn’t drinking at the time for medical reasons. Boring. At least I was a reliable designated driver.)

Viajes

New York state of mind

I was looking through an old wallet a couple days ago and found the MetroCard I used all last year. It reminded me how much I’ve been missing New York lately. The nice thing about 9 months of a bicoastal relationship was that it allowed me to get to know NY more.

I miss visiting NY, but don’t miss the distance. Living across the country from Sean was hard and only became more difficult as the year wore on. The day he arrived at LAX after dealing with several delays (snowstorm, flight delays, etc) for good was the one the best days of the year.

Last December, I didn’t think I’d come to miss my trips to NY. At least not so soon. The flights, summer heat and humidity made me grumpy. Sean seriously thought I’d refuse to make summer trips. I still went in the summer, but those trips were short compared to spring and fall trips. I liked NY but didn’t love the crowds, expensive food and crappy weather.

I miss the trips. I even miss the flight, sorta. I looked forward to eating Munchies, watching TV, and taking in the breathtaking views of the Grand Canyon and the Rockies on my flights. I loved our reunions at baggage claim and long airport hugs. I miss riding back in the rented ZipCar through Queens and in to familiar Harlem. I miss people watching on the train, running the outer loop of Central Park, watching Sean’s football games, happy hours with his team (who all seemed to know me even though I’d just met them), indie concerts, and delicious food.

I know I’ll be back, but it’ll be different. I won’t have the feeling that I only have a few days to spend with my love. He’ll be coming home with me too.

Listed

A Cinco de Mayo miracle

If Cinco de Mayo was a real holiday — instead of just an excuse to drink lots of tequila — there’d be some kind of gift giving or at least all Mexicans would get hugs. Even, better there’d be Cinco de Mayo miracles and claymation movies reenacting the Battle of Puebla. That would be neat and then maybe people would know the real reason for the season.

We could even write letters with lists of our wants to General Ignacio Zaragoza (leader of the Mexican troops at the Battle of Puebla). The following would be on my list:

Passage of the DREAM Act.
Real immigration reform that includes a pathway to citizenship for the millions of undocumented immigrants living “in the shadows.”
An end to the term “illegals” in reference to undocumented immigrants.
For the Arizona legislature and governor to get it’s collective head out of it’s ass and to repeal SB 1070 and the slew of other racist laws it approved in the past year.
To never again read/hear the word “guac” (sounds like “walk”) again as shorthand for guacamole.
To never again read/hear the word “marg” as shorthand for margarita.
To never again read/hear “wrap” in reference to a flour tortilla. I’ve given up with wraps to refer to cold burritos (ew), but I have to put my foot down when companies try to rename my beloved tortillas. I know the last three wishes make me seem like some kind of purist when it comes to the Spanish language or Mexican food and drink. I’m not, but reading/hearing the above words is like fingernails on a chalkboard. Casi me da asco.
A long trip to Guanajuato, Zacatecas and maybe a resort town or two. I’d love to swim in a cenote again and go scuba diving.
Another Café Tacuba album. It’s been almost 4 years since Sino.

I know I’m omitting a lot of important stuff, but I’d hope someone else’s letter to General Zaragoza would include items like ceasing construction on the border wall and a second Machete movie. What would you ask for?

Familia

My little brother rocks

I got an angry comment from my younger brother last week. He was upset and felt ignored. I can’t blame him. In an older post, I listed my family’s long term involvement at St. John Vianney. For some reason, probably just because my memory failed me, I left out Adrian’s 5 year tenure as a drummer during the youth Mass. In his words, “[he] rocked that place and woke everyone up, like it or not!” Danny was also part of the youth choir, but was usually the cantor (lead singer). I always enjoyed those Masses. It was cool to see my brother up there doing what he loved and I felt proud of him when he was complimented by the priest or other parishioners.

Adrian still has the drum kit set up in his room, but no longer plays with a band or with the youth choir. He’s much too busy working a couple of jobs. At dawn he gets up to work at UPS. In the afternoons, he heads off to his second job as the site director of an after school program at local middle school. Adrian’s been working with the after school program for a few years now, and just recently took on the responsibility of being the site director. I know the dealing with paperwork and misbehaving kids stresses him out, but I know he also enjoys teaching his kids to drum. He’s doing a great job. (Fun fact: my mom — who has worked in Hacienda Heights schools for 20 years or so — is one of the people Adrian oversees at his site.)

Adrian’s no longer rocking out on the drums at church, on the field (drum line in the band) or in local clubs with his band, but he’s still making me proud.