take me out to the ballgame.

just called home to announce i'd be there for the first thanksgiving in years. this consisted of going on the syracuse university website and searching under faculty. laughing to myself that my uncle, aunt and cousin are all employed there now.

katie, my "little cousin", can't be on facebook cause "all the players would friend request" her. i asked if she meant playas or players. she said there is no difference. katie works in the football department. i don't think that's the technical name, but whatever. she is the chef of our family now after a 2 year stint at johnson & wales that she abandoned to finish her degree at SU. and then work there. 

in the 80's and 90's my stepdad did all the dietary planning for the football and basketball teams. we would have to converse with jim boheim at angotti's. and hear stories about the weird food habits of everyone from rony seikaly to donovan mcnabb. he eventually got burnt out and switched careers to do special education.

if you live in syracuse all you really can do is work for SU i guess. 

one of my hardcore friends who went to SU, who is so metrosexual, was keeping track of bears touchdowns on sunday when we hung out. too funny. i told his friends how i went to almost every SU football game for years in jr high and the beginning of high school. amazing seats on the 50 yard line, courtesy of my stepmom's well-to-do family. never bothered to learn anything about it. just hung out. until a few years ago i thought the line of scrimmage was painted on the field. 

my dad stated it best while driving at midnight on a weeknight from bushwick to long island city, hauling the last of my crap from one apartment to the other. my sister was talking about the three of us all getting tattooed. dad laughed from the backseat, where i made him sit while i drove. "we already have one black sheep in the family!" ignoring the fact that my two cousins and aunt and uncle all got tattoos after me. 

my dad hates sports, but at least he drinks beer and eats meat. i have three strikes against me. three strikes and you're out! 

post script...

my cousin pitched in the world series. i've never met him, but have his signed baseball card. (not the one pictured above.)

i love the mets, hate the cardinals.