A Summer's Day in May

"Love," Matt White

We went to Monterey last weekend for Lexa and Ryan's wedding. It was absolutely beautiful, and we had such a relaxing weekend. First of all, we flew out of Carlsbad Airport, which is INFINITELY easier (albeit, a little pricier) than San Diego. We arrived in Monterey on Thursday evening, rented a car, and checked in to the Hyatt, where we were upgraded to a 2-bedroom, 2-bath, waterfall-shower suite thanks to the Italian-last-name-appreciating Sicilian working at the front desk. We spent Friday on 17-mile-drive, where Tim proceeded to drool over the greens at Pebble Beach and I counted sea otters. Saturday's wedding was perfect; held in a historical garden, the ceremony and reception were both outside, but had an intimate feel thanks to the garden walls. Lexa was SUCH a beautiful bride (wearing the same wedding dress her mom AND grandmother wore!), and her and Ryan seemed so calm and happy throughout the entire weekend. Tim and I spent lots of quality time hanging out with James and the Anderson family (including their two awesome kids), and flew back to Carlsbad on Sunday.

The Finer Things Keep Shining Through

-Steve Winwood



Last week, I was honored by the CHS baseball team and given the opportunity to throw the first pitch at the last home game of the season. Armed with the rather-distressing knowledge that not only has it been easily ten years since I've pitched a baseball, my version of "pitching" involves a one-step up the plate, an awkward underhand wind-up, and a softball. When I got to the field on Friday, one of my former students offered to help me "warm up" by catching a few balls. At first, most of my throws landed in his general vicinity and actually weren't so bad. However, apparently I was more nervous than I anticipated, and my throws got continually worse until he was running all over the place fielding errant baseballs. By the time I stepped up to the plate, my palms were sweaty and my students were wearing devilish, "we-know-she's-going-to-blow-this" grins. Sure enough, my pitch bounced a little more than halfway to home plate, causing the poor catcher to scramble forward in a mixture of confusion and pity. Apparently I'm a little rusty. Or I have virtually no coordination. Or I buckle under the immense pressure that comes with 20 fans at a high school baseball game. Suffice it to say, it's a good thing I kept to water sports.



Last night, Tim and I had an incredible dinner at the SkyRoom, a small restaurant at the top of La Valencia Hotel in La Jolla. The views were spectacular, the food was delectable, and the company was perfect. We dined on salmon tartare, veal tournedo, lobster ravioli, and too many other amazing dishes to name. Since we both decided to have the chef's prix-fixe, we also had the maitre d' choose the various wines we had with each course. It was EASILY the best dinner we've ever had.



So hear this please
And watch as your heart speeds up endlessly
And look for the stars as the sun goes down
Each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
Everything, everything's magic
-Angels and Airwaves

Handled with Great Precision

"If You Can't Leave it Be, Might as Well Make it Bleed," Dashboard Confessional

A sneak peek of the controversial research paper editing process:

Me: Patrick, I understand you have a strong stance against terrorists. I'm not saying you need to retract your view, but when you say, "Terrorists should be killed," it sounds a little aggressive. You have to remember to use ethos in your paper. What about using "eradicated" instead?
Patrick: Maybe. "Eradicated" sounds a little dehumanizing. You know, people get killed. Animals get eradicated.
Me: Eradicate means to destroy or get rid of. Not necessarily just animals. In any case, let's try to find a euphemism for "killed."
Patrick: Okay. How about "involuntarily transferred to the other side?"

The System Has it's Rules About the Second Chance

"Sitting on the Curb," Pepper

Sigh.

I got home from work today to find Hollywood Video is, according to their daunting laced-with-red-words-and-capital-letters FINAL NOTICE, threatening to send me to a collection agency unless I come up with the FIFTY-FOUR DOLLARS I owe them for renting the Robert Redford version of The Great Gatsby to show my class. Granted, I checked the movie out in February, but STILL.

Because I am perhaps the largest procrastinator known to mankind, I waited until 5 PM the night before I planned to show the movie to reserve the video. Since it would have been too convenient for my neighborhood Blockbuster to have a copy in stock, I was pleasantly informed by an in-store salesman they were "fresh out!" followed by this awkward yet relentless sales pitch:

Blockbuster Employee Apparently Working on Commission: But let me show you the Paul Rudd version! The kids will like it even more! There might even be a sex scene!
Me: No, that's okay, I haven't screened that one. I need the Mia Farrow one.
BEAWOC: No really! You'll love it! The chick that plays Daisy is hot!
Me: I appreciate it; really, I do. But I need the older version. I--
BEAWOC: Look! It's right here! See, I told you Paul Rudd was in it!
Me: Do you know where the nearest Hollywood Video is?

I traipsed over to Vista, spent 30 minutes creating a Hollywood Video account while desperately dodging every promotional scam the shady "manager" could throw at me, and eventually left with the movie I'd been looking for, a brand new, laminated, and completely unnecessary membership to another video store, and a little less pride. Unfortunately, the video never made it back to its original location.

I assumed (incorrectly, obviously) that Hollywood Video's late policy would parallel its competitor's: At Blockbuster, after a certain number of weeks go by, they simply deduct the cost of the movie out of your account and you are now the proud new owner of Stand By Me or Die Hard 3. This, I have since learned, is not the case. In fact, Hollywood Video equates your inability to return a video with much heavier infractions; i.e. pirating music on-line or robbing a bank. Subsequently, this explains why I now owe their institution the same amount of money I'd spend on FOUR COPIES of the same movie. AND a pack of Twizzlers.

I briefly considered calling the corporate offices, demanding to speak to a manager and requesting my account be cleared of this blasphemous accusation. But, in large part due to the fact they're right, I didn't. Instead, I wrote them a check, and then promptly threw out my membership card. I have a feeling they won't be letting me rent another movie anytime soon...

Remember When You Were Seventeen...

"Two Halves," My Morning Jacket

Heads or Tails and Fairytales in my Mind

"Are We the Waiting," Green Day

T-Minus 2 minutes until commencement of STAR Testing:
Me: Okay, so any questions? Yes, Adam?
Adam: Abraham won't stop calling me stupid! And he also said I'm a Satan worshipper!


Jackie (whispering): Ms. Murray? Tommy is high.
Me: How do you know?
Jackie: Well, his eyes are all red and blood-shot.
Me: Yeah, but--
Jackie: And I asked him and he told me.
(5 minutes later)
Me: Yes, Tommy?
Tommy: Can I get a drink of water?
Me: No. You need to finish your test.
Tommy: I did, man!
Me: ... I passed it out 9 minutes ago...? How on Earth are you done?
Tommy: I'm just...fast...but seriously, can I get some water?


Me: Do you need me to show you how many pages you're supposed to read each day? Okay...well, there's 11 days worth of reading. Somebody give me a number divisible by 11.
Nathan: 11.


Me: I posted the lit. assignment on schoolloop. Does anyone think they need a hard copy of it? (pause) Oh! Did you notice my indefinite pronoun error?
Greg: Yeah. Does anyone think HE needs a hard copy.
Me: Yes! Good! (pause) You know what? How about I give you extra credit when you notice if I make an indefinite pronoun error?
Hayden: HE!
Me: What?
Hayden: You messed up again! You said YOU! It should be HE!
Me: No. "You" is correct.
Justin (whispering to neighbor): I'm just going to periodically call out 'indefinite pronoun error!' and hope I'm right.

I Walk These Lines of Blasphemy

"What it is to Burn," Finch

It makes sense Tennessee Williams wrote A Streetcar Named Desire before Law and Order: Special Victims Unit was a television show. Had Williams seen an episode of SVU, perhaps he wouldn't have been so eager to depend on the kindness of strangers. As a newly avid viewer, everyone in real life is now a potential threat or perpetrator. The guy behind me at Vons? Nice cover up with the shaving cream, but I know what those Bic razors are really for. The overpowering stench near Tower 36 on Tamarack Beach? I no longer believe it comes from the nearby port-a-potty, but rather the decomposing body in the trunk of the parked Taurus at the curb. And the guy knocking at our front door pretending to sell magazines as part of a rehabilitation program? You don't fool me for a second, buddy. Your rap sheet's a mile long. Speaking of rap sheets, I am now somewhat well-versed in criminal and legal jargon (I even know what the acronym RAP stands for!) Affidavit? Got it. Injunction? Eminent Domain? Yup. Docket? Restitution? Subpoena? Habeas Corpus? You bet. Not impressed? In middle school I thought a "hung jury" was a group of jurors who had simultaneously killed themselves--I've come a long way. And yes, I realize how incredibly embarrassing, pathetic, and shameful it is, as the daughter of a lawyer, I was taught these terms through a television show.

These irrational and paranoid fears won't last, however. After I read Twilight, I searched the faces in my classes and at the grocery store for possible vampires for at least three weeks. Two years ago in Chicago, when I found out they were filming the street scenes for The Dark Knight while I was in town, Heath Ledger and Christian Bale were in the lobby of my hotel, in line at Dunkin Donuts, and guests at the wedding we were in town for.

But for now, I'll continue to look at my next-door neighbor with an accusatory eye. I'll wonder if the people walking their dogs in Poinsettia Park are actually tracking and recording the dialogues and actions of their next victims. And if I happen to be hired as the next editor for the latest edition of Streetcar, I will seriously consider changing the line to: "Whoever you are-- I have always depended on the kindness of those who I know very well and trust wholeheartedly."

That sound? Tennessee Williams rolling over in his grave.