'Neath the Cover of October Skies

Moondance," Van Morrison

Three weeks ago, we flew to Rocklin for Lindsey and Matt's wedding. The entire weekend was just perfect, and Linds and Matt were glowing the whole time:

Tim and I arrived Friday, and spent Friday night at Aunt Robin's house for cocktails, music, and hanging out. Good food and company were beyond plentiful:

Siblings

 Sisters

Arbitrary yager shots

The next day, Saturday, was the wedding rehearsal, and there was a palpable excitement in the air:

Eventually, we made our way to a local softball field, where we played softball for hours. Everyone had a blast:

 Sunday was the wedding day. Love, excitement, and celebration surrounded every minute. Lindsey was beautiful, calm, and collected all morning, and she was an absolutely stunning bride. It was the perfect day, and I was so honored to be a part of it. Matt and Linds are lucky to have found one another, and I know they have a lifetime of happiness ahead of them. Welcome to our crazy, chaotic, and amazing family, Matt!

Congratulations Matt and Linds! We love you!

Your eyes shine through me

You are so divine to me

Your heart has a home in mine

We won't have to say a word

With a touch all shall be heard

When I search my heart it's you I find

-Beloved One, Ben Harper

Got a Devil's Haircut in My Mind

 Beck

This week, because I'm cheap and efficient opulent and swanky, I went to Supercuts for a haircut. I've never been a fan of expensive, drawn-out salon visits (see: my hockey-baseball-fort-building-tree-climbing childhood), and so up until a few years ago my mom cut my hair. This choice doesn't have to do with saving money (although that is a plus), but rather with sheer laziness. I upgraded to the much-fancier "Campus Cuts" in college (yes, that's the one located IN the UCLA student store), and have since been a regular at any local Supercuts ("regular" is a term I apparently use loosely, as I venture into one of the establishments approximately once every 6-8 months). Without fail, my hair-cutter pretends to (poorly, I might add) hide her shock once she learns I only buy grocery store shampoo and conditioner! And don't deep condition once every 10-14 days! Inevitably, sometimes even before my haircut is over, I am led to the wall of "magic" products, all of which promise to cure split ends and solve world hunger. Inevitably, also, I pretend to "think about it" and perhaps "come by later in the week to pick some up." (This is a new and improved tactic, since up until about a year ago, my shame and guilt usually found me leaving Supercuts with 5 new conditioning balms, a reduced bank account, and a little less dignity).

So on Tuesday I got a haircut. The girl who cut my hair sliced about an inch off the bottom, re-did what she thought "were maybe an attempt at some layers?", and cut my bangs. However, apparently I misunderstood her, because I could have sworn when I answered "yes," the question had been: "So do you want your bangs to kind of look like mine?" rather than "Do you want me to close my eyes and pretend I am a scissor-wielding toddler?"  Due to this miscommunication, my awesome bangs now look like this:

I guess what they say is true; you get what you pay for. Compared to what I know many of my friends pay for haircuts, Supercuts is a steal.

However, I probably should be out spending that saved money on hats and headbands.

The Summer's Out of Reach...

"Boys of Summer," Don Henley

Me: Cliches are basically phrases that are so overused, they've lost their meanings and don't sound like formal language. You never want to use them in formal writing. Somebody give me an example...you guys might want to write the examples down in your notes.
Bree: I can't move a muscle.
Ethan: All's well that ends well.
Zach: ...like having sex on prom night.
Me: Please don't write that in your notes.

Me: Okay, there's a little more background information I want you to have before we start reading. Please take out a piece of paper.
Mike: More notes? Dude, you're killing me, brah.
Me: Excuse me. Did you just call me "bro?"
Mike: No. I called you "brah."

I think it's going to be a good year...

Skies Are Painted Colors in the Cowboy Cliche

Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world through both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm
In the mood to lose my way with words
-3x5, John Mayer

On my run along the Carlsbad bluffs tonight, right at the point where I usually turn around, I stopped almost suddenly to look out at the water. The sun was settling just above the horizon line, a giant globe of reds and oranges and other colors that completely obliterate the spectrum and can't be defined by simple words and token shades. The tide was low, and people speckled the sand; kids searching for sandcrabs in overturned rocks and couples holding hands in the light, lapping surf. A line of seagulls flew overhead, and a few surfers paddled lazily farther out to sea, seeking the day's perfect set before heading home. In that instant, I found myself wishing I had my camera. I wanted to capture this moment; these little intricacies of the sun and sand and sea that remind me why I love the coast. I wanted to freeze the picture before me for eternity; bottle it up in a postcard on the refrigerator or frame on the wall. But then, I realized a big part of the beauty in front of me lie in the mere fact scenes like these aren't able to be frozen in a photograph. You can't "summarize" a scene, much like you can't really summarize a novel (Hemingway would cringe in his grave if he found a student trying to sum up A Farewell to Arms in a matter of abbreviations and muddled clauses). A photograph can't imprison the way salt air smells minutes before the sun dips under the horizon. It can't memorize and recall the way birds soar effortlessly through the sky, slicing a thin black line into the otherwise perfectly blended copper and apricot horizon. And then, ironically, I was so glad I didn't have my camera. Instead, I wanted to breathe in the moment in front of me; recognize and appreciate the fleetingness of time and space and life.

A typical (how can a sunset EVER be typical?) Carlsbad sunset looks like this:



It's entrancing and magic and almost as surreal as a Key West one (or even Santa Barbara, for that matter, but there'll never be a sunset in the world that compares to one of those). But I didn't take that picture. I was too busy appreciating the world through "both my eyes," taking in the sounds and smells and each one of the sights, which happen to extend far beyond the realm of any lens.

(Today I finally overcame
Trying to fit the world inside a picture frame...)

You'll Shoot the Moon, Put Out the Sun...

"When You Love Someone," Bryan Adams

"Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in."
-American Beauty

Two weeks ago Tim and I were married. It was a beautiful whirlwind weekend full of family, friends, love, dancing, tears, seashells, memories, stories, and chaotic perfection. Friends have been asking me to post about it, and I have to admit; I've tried. And, honestly, it just seems as if I can't. I stumble over and lose my words when I try to describe details of the rehearsal breakfast. I fumble with adjectives as I explain what an incredible feeling it is to watch Tim's college friends introduce themselves to my cousins. Yes, we went wine tasting on Friday. Yes, other people (Tim and his groomsmen included) golfed. Yes, my mom and step-dad hosted a party that night...Yes, I can post pictures taken Friday at the vineyards, at the golf course, and at Cedar Street:







But it's much harder to describe the beauty of watching my mom reconnect with my aunt, uncle, and cousins after ten years. The feel of the sun on my back, glass of good pinot in hand, surveying the scene of my present and past: friends from different arenas of my life blending into each other, soaking up the sweeping vistas and one another's laughter. My dad discussing music with my college friends; my step-dad confidently introducing himself to my dad's family; my fiance laughing so hard with his college buddies a mist of tears springs to his eyes...these are fleeting moments I've tucked away into the confines of my heart; glimpses into one of those days I could re-live forever...

And then there was the wedding rehearsal Saturday, and then a Bloody Mary-and-eggs benedict-filled brunch, and then a beach day complete with a PA system and a How's it Hangin' tournament, and a night out at Union Ale. And once again, my words fail me:







Because it's not every day your best friends come together, from multiple corners of the country, to practice walking down the aisle in celebration of you. It's not every day your mom, dad, and step-dad mingle at brunch and talk about their swelling pride and the welfare of the dogs. It's not every day the friends from each and every part of your life (times TWO!) come together on the sand in your honor.

And then your wedding day arrives. And you're ecstatic. And giddily nervous. And terrified. And the bravest you've ever been. And you wonder what he's doing. You get ready with your best friends. And your mom looks so beautiful--and proud--and you realize, with every piece of everything you are, that she's the biggest part of you, and the model for who you one day hope to be. And you cry-- such emotional, happy tears.

And you wonder, again, what he's doing.
And then it's time to go.

So you get in the limo.
And you take pictures.
And you fret over whether or not you should have champagne.
And you compliment your bridesmaids, and you mean it, because they are all stunning and brilliant.
And you wonder where he is and what he's doing.
And then you get there.
And you see all the people.
And your heart stops, and that courage you were so sure of only moments ago leaves you for a few cursory seconds.

And then...your dad is there. And your composure comes sidling back slowly. And you vaguely hear the familiar music you picked out months ago. Your dad is crying, and he's holding out his arm. And you hug him, and you don't even try to hold back the tears. Because it's not worth it. And anyway, if you do, it's not real.

And then you see him. He's waiting for you. And you can't hear the music anymore. You can't see the people. He's the only person in the whole world and-- it's just like they said!-- you've never been so sure of anything before. Everything in the universe other than this single moment fades to mere triviality. You hug your dad tightly and refuse to hide your tears. Your mom said it best: People, relationships, places, and feelings change, and that's what makes them so magnificent. Change is a constant, and the fact individuals and experiences grow and change is what makes life so poignant and beautiful. Experiences are fleeting, and we have to remember to cherish each one...
You hear his heart above any other sound, and you look into his eyes because it's the safest place you've ever been. His vows melt like butter into your hands, and suddenly its hard to breathe because there just aren't any words fitting enough to express what you need them to. Your lives have become so entwined its hard to know where his stories stop and yours start...and sometimes you're not sure you want the ability to differentiate.

And then...you're married...and it's the most right thing you've ever done in your whole life.



And in a white sea of eyes
I see one pair that I recognize
And I know

That I am
(I am)
(I am)
The luckiest

(I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you)
-"The Luckiest," Ben Folds

Summer...It Turns Me Upside Down

"Magic," The Cars

Most of the time when I run, I find myself going over my internal to-do list, envisioning myself using Inspector Gadget-like powers of productivity upon my return home; swiffering the kitchen, scrubbing the bathrooms, and reading an entire section of the paper within the first hour back from pavement pounding. Other times during my run, my brain wanders into more intellectually profound territory (Does Rihanna or Beyonce sing "Halo"?) Regardless, I constantly depend on my iPod to keep my feet moving and my brain occupied. This player has all kinds of theme-based playlists, many mixes specifically made for running, however more often than not I find myself putting the entire iPod on random shuffle. True, there are a number of songs that I fast-forward (Tim's techno disasters and Richard Marx's "Right Here Waiting" are not sufficient running material), however it's a great way for me to come across music I have nearly forgotten. Yesterday, The Cars "Magic" came blaring into my headphones, and the beat was a perfect pick-me-up at an otherwise tough spot during the uncomfortable heat of the San Diego summer.

(That paragraph? A --perhaps unnecessary-- explanation as to where today's post title came from).

San Diego Summer: Operation 2009 has been near-perfect so far. We've spent lots of time with friends and family, read a few books, gone on a number of ocean swims, unsuccessfully tried to find new ways to cool down our apartment (thanks, landlord, for cutting down the ONLY tree that offered ANY solace of shade into our now oven-like abode), and found a bike frame in the dumpster and re-built the cruiser. Well, wait. That last one was just Tim:




Speaking of Tim, his bachelor party was last weekend. They went fishing all day Saturday, and then went out Saturday night. According to the slices of memory he can hazily piece together, he says they had an incredible time. Three of Tim's best friends (and groomsmen) generously flew in from all over the US, Chris was able to come down, and Chuck fished on Saturday as well. I know Tim was so grateful.







I really have no words for the toilet set-up, however:



We had a low-key weekend; Melissa and Koz came by to visit, we went to a graduation party, and spent quite a bit of time at the beach. Koz came bearing Nixon presents, and reminded me yet again why we love him:




It's July, and I'm currently right in the middle of my second work-free summer. Being a teacher is full of bright and fulfilling moments all school year long, and I am already having pangs of excitement for my next new set of students. However, summer's off are the most incredible gift, and I wish this was a luxury in every person's job. I figure, I'm allowed a little brag-room, seeing as how a stranger looking at my W-2s would assume I work at a retail store. But sleeping in, relaxing with the paper, coffee, and a DVR-ed episode of Law & Order: SVU in the mornings, taking the dog on long and overdue walks, laying on the beach with a book in hand, and late night glasses of wine with no early-morning consequences are all indulgences that make my meager salary more than worth it. I guess the fact that I love American Literature and my students helps, too.

"Oh, Earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it--every,every minute?"
-Our Town, Thornton Wilder

You Know I've Always Been a Dreamer

"Take it to the Limit," The Eagles




Someone once told me Don Williams' song "Good Ole Boys Like Me" paints a strong picture of my dad's life. With interest, I listened to the song and heard the lyrics "...With Thomas Wolfe whispering in my head." At the time, my dad was breezing through Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel, spouting off memorable quotes and willing me to read it next. In the next stanza, Williams muses:

Nothing makes a sound in the night like the wind does
But you ain't afraid if you're washed in the blood like I was

Again, fitting: My dad's strong Catholic upbringing certainly conjures the idea of being "washed in the blood," regardless of the less-than-cleanly image the line otherwise denotes. But really, my dad's life, passions, and experiences are entirely too varied and decorated to be summed up within the lines of a single song. He's creative, generous, temperamental, passionate, kind, focused, and a fervent follower of his dreams. His accolades are plentiful, but a stranger would never know this due to his humble nature. His strength and heart are inspiring, and I'm so lucky...


But I was smarter than most, and I could choose
Learned to talk like the man on the six o’clock news
When I was eighteen, Lord, I hit the road
But it really doesn't matter how far I go...

I can still hear the soft southern winds in the live oak trees
And those Williams boys they still mean a lot to me;
Hank and Tennessee
I guess we’re all gonna be what we’re gonna be
So what do you do with good ole boys like me?