We Are the Music-Makers...

...And We Are the Dreamers of Dreams
-Arthur O'Shaughnessy

My dad is moving to Sacramento during the weekdays for work, and after that will most likely be moving to his ranch in New Mexico to fulfill his dream of becoming a cowboy in Santa Fe--(a particular breed of cowboy that spends his winters SCUBA-diving in the tropics, but hey, who knows what John Wayne did in his free time?) As a result, Tim and I have excitedly volunteered to take Bailey, my dad's dog. Bailey is a 5-year old Bichon Frise, a breed of dog that, more often than not, looks like this:

Thank GOD my dad is not a fan of the blown-out look. He wants Bailey to be a rough-and-tumble ranch dog, and so it isn't surprising that Bailey instead resembles an inebriated, shameless pirate:


He's good-natured, sweet, friendly, and adorable. The only issue we have so far is that he cries/whines/barks when both of us are gone, to the point that if it continues, I know our neighbors will have a problem with it. We try to discipline him to illustrate that he can't cry like that, but it's so hard to say "bad dog!" in a stern voice when you're talking to an animal that could essentially be Snuggles-the-detergent-bear's twin.


**As a side-note, that blue and black "piece" draped ever-so-stylishly over the futon is Tim's way of giving the room a more "beachy" feel. It's a towel.

Switch on Summer from a Slot Machine

"Where Do the Children Play?" Cat Stevens

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night.
But ah, my foes and oh, my friends
It gives a lovely light!
- Edna St. Vincent Millay

A Blissful World Surrounds Me

"Summer of Love," 311

I left last Thursday for Santa Barbara, and had an awesome trip up north. It started out by picking Krissy up at LAX (after a 45-minute detour down La Cienega because I missed the Century Blvd exit, but that's really beside the point...I can blame it on the fact I was freaking out that my car was overheating; which was a fair fear in that I replaced the radiator two days ago). We essentially went into a time warp and drove/walked around our old stomping grounds at UCLA...all of our old apartments, the pools, and all around campus.

Ordering lunch at Rubio's in Ackerman (the student union), an event that took place approximately 6,000 times during our days as Bruins:
The next day, I went to work with my mom and attended her school's end-of-the-year party. The staff at her school is small and (perhaps partially as a result of the size?) very tight-knit; their end-of-the-year parties are always crazy and fun.

Mom getting the party kicked off by dancing on a table because, well, she's flat-out amazing like that. (That's Paul's band rocking in the background):
We went out both Friday and Saturday night downtown...lots of fun! We even made it to Tonic one night, which will forever be ingrained in my memory as 634, no matter the name given under various ownerships. I can so distinctly remember (and sometimes, not so distinctly...) oh-so-tactfully requesting Beyonce's "Crazy in Love" and Usher's "Yeah" at roughly 10 minute intervals during the summers of 2003 and 2004. Because, (things don't change), I was still just as cool back then.

New friends; Kate and Tim!

I whole-heartedly disagree with Thomas Wolfe...it's not only possible, but completely satisfying, to go home again.

The Ocean Breathes Salty

Modest Mouse

Tim striking a pose in the parking lot of our apartment complex on his way to the beach after work. Admittedly, he looks a little ridiculous walking down the street like this. It isn't every day you see a grown man walking around a residential neighborhood with a large spear gun and a knife attached to his calf. But, he brings home fresh fish for dinner!


I was in Santa Barbara for four days over the weekend, and Tim went out to Catalina on a fishing trip with his dad and some buddies. I won't post the gory details (Tim already did on Bloodydecks), but they had a great time.

Wet Trunks and Schoolbooks and Sand on My Toes

"Mudfootball," Jack Johnson

Tim ran the Camp Pendleton "Mud Run" last week with friends from work. It was over 6 miles, which is a good starting off point considering we are running the San Diego Finest City half-marathon in August.


And on a completely unrelated topic...SERIOUSLY, Lakers?

Picture Yourself in the Living Room

"The Underdog," Spoon

In order to fully understand the following, I have to back up and explain the aftermath of the squid-spilling fiasco that happened a few weeks ago. The lovely scent of rotten squid meat and liquid lingered in our apartment (and, obviously, the refrigerator) for about a week. One day, I got home from work, opened the fridge, and found a bouquet of dying flowers bunched onto one of the lower-level shelves. The following dialogue ensued:

Me: Hey Tim, why are there flowers in the refrigerator?
Tim: Well, I went to throw them out, but they smelled really good, so I thought maybe they would help get rid of the squid smell.
Me: ...
Tim: I know, I know, it's probably stupid. But, you never know.
Me: (kneeling down, pushing the flowers aside, finding a large candle also shoved in the back of the fridge) And that?
Tim: That smelled really good, too.

So, as end of the year presents, my students gave me a much-appreciated assortment of flowers, thoughtful cards, and gift certificates. One particular student opted instead for a fridge freshener:


Her inscription reads: Dear Ms. Murray and Tim, I saw this and thought of you. Next time a squid leaks, I hope this will work better than flowers.

Brilliant. She's got it right-on: although I can't wait to use up the Starbucks and Borders gift cards, my number one priority is making sure the stench of putrid squid is completely and totally eradicated from the place where we keep our food. Extra credit points for this kid.

Sinking into Sweet Uncertainty

"Sweetness," Jimmy Eat World

SUMMMMEEERRR'S HERE! AND, we leave for Greece in less than 3 weeks! It's finally time for me to actually start going through and unpacking the boxes I've quietly let rest in the hidden corners of the guest room and the dining room.

Tim and I went to the Del Mar Fair yesterday and met up with three of my college friends; Joe, Thalia, and Brett, who I haven't seen in years. First of all, I'm really excited because Thalia and Brett recently moved to Del Mar! Second of all, we paid two dollars each to gain the privilege (word choice?) to view a 3,500 pound cow and a 19-hand tall horse (A "hand" on a horse is equal to approximately 4 inches; 19 hands is massive). These poor animals were not only enormous, but crammed into pens hardly big enough to hold them. It's pretty pathetic that the fair gains enough of a profit from eager--creepy?-- fair-goers to actually justify putting the animals on display, although I can't really judge seeing as how I completely added to the overall revenue. As a side note, the side of the cow's barn boasted that the cow could potentially make "10,000 hamburgers!" Completely. Unnecessary. Information.

The U.S. Open was at Torrey Pines from Thursday until today, and Tim went to watch on Thursday. Jody's fiance, John Merrick, kicked ass and placed 7th overall, which is incredible. I have an enormous amount of respect as well as awe for golfers, seeing as how I possess virtually ZERO patience, precision, or dexterity while on a golf course. I am, however, a practiced and professional "divot-maker," a skill I handily picked up from repeatedly smashing my driver into the putting greens. There was a tie for first at the Open today, and the tie-breaker consists of a full 18-holes tomorrow between Tiger Woods and Rocco Mediate. I can't imagine having to complete another grueling 4-5 hours of competition to determine a winner. The USGA needs to come up with an alternative, like a golf shoot out or a 5-minute "sudden death" scenario.

I'm reading The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien right now. I read Going After Cacciato in college and loved it, and I've heard from multiple sources that The Things They Carried is even better. The first chapter consists primarily of items, given in list format, that Vietnam soldiers carried with them; both literally as well as metaphorically. The first chapter alone makes me realize how very little I can relate to or understand what being a soldier would actually feel like, although it's hard not to feel a surge of respect for the individuals who choose the military.

"...Some carried white phosphorus grenades. They carried all they could bear, and then some, including a silent awe for the terrible power of the things they carried."
-Tim O'Brien

I Will Breathe in a Moment...

"All Hail the Heartbreaker," The Spill Canvas

Tomorrow is the last day of school. It's hard to believe, seeing as how I can so vividly remember the nervous excitement I felt on the first day. This year has been the perfect mixture of rewarding and challenging, trying and fulfilling. My students are inquisitive, bright, sarcastic, thoughtful, respectful, limit-pushing, impatient, funny, motivated, and...exactly what I hoped for. There is never a single dull moment in the classroom; I certainly could never anticipate what to expect on any given morning. I found out I was teaching high school a mere week and a half before the school year began, and in all honesty I didn't know what to expect. As a rule, teenagers carry the banner stereotype of being impulsive, angry, defiant, and abrasive. My classes, as a whole, completely obliterated these labels.

Over the course of the year, I have taught grammar, vocabulary, literary terms, The Crucible, Transcendentalism, American Gothic, Lord of the Flies, more grammar, Antigone, thesis statements, persuasive writing, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, The Great Gatsby, lit. circles, embedded quotes, human rights, The Catcher in the Rye, controversial research papers, MORE grammar, and more. Realistically, I know that my juniors will not remember what school Holden Caulfield was kicked out of. My sophomores won't remember what Maya Angelou's brother's name was, or what year Angelou was born. It's my hope that they will remember, however, that English and learning can actually be fun, that academic environments can be flexible, laid-back, AND effective, and that treating others with respect is the key to "making it" in the real world.

I bought a yearbook, and over the course of the week the kids have been signing it. Their comments are inspiring and make me proud of the countless hours of grading, lesson planning, worrying, and hard work I've put in over the course of the year. Tomorrow, after class, I will take the posters off my wall, turn in my grades, and go to graduation.


And Friday, I will sleep in and REVEL in the beginnings of a hard-earned summer.

And the night shall be filled with music,

And the cares that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

-Longfellow, "The Day is Done"