Category Archives: Personal

Oldies but Goodies

Today at the grocery store, I heard “Hot Hot Hot!!!” by The Cure playing on the store music pipe. The Cure. At Kroger.

(Audio might only happen on 240p resolution, no idea why.)

This song is from the 1987 record Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, one of my all-time #1 no doubt desert island favorites. I remember buying this CD at a mall somewhere in northwest Arkansas during a high-school band trip.

The odd thing is, I just listened to most of this record two days ago as background music while driving and walking around at work. iTunes tells me the last time that happened was March 2007. Almost six years ago.

I am officially an old man. And the cadre of store music pipe sociologists at Kroger HQ knows what they’re doing, demographically speaking.

Pearl

This is going to be sad.

Pearl has been gone for two months, just before her thirteenth birthday.

I’ve been putting off writing about this because it hurts, and because it feels like it just happened. When I get up in the middle of the night, like I did an hour ago, I’m still taking care not to step on her in the dark, even though she’s not there. This house is unbelievably quiet, and I miss her terribly.

Pearl ran this place, even when her arthritis and hearing loss meant she stopped meeting us at the door. She pawed at the refrigerator and stared a hole in me as a reminder that I hadn’t given her an after-breakfast treat. Pearl loved her leather couch, and chest divot rubs, and licking chins. She had a switchblade back right leg.

She wanted to know where everyone was, including the little dogs whom she tolerated but secretly loved. When she couldn’t make it out to the yard, she watched us from the patio, or from a patch of cool grass. Pearl was 100% Momma Dog.

She snorted and snored and farted and panted all the time, and as the invisible tumor made it hard for her to breathe, she only got louder. This is why our house is so quiet now, and I remember that the quiet is actually a good thing.

Before her last trip to the vet, Simon gave her a hug and a kiss and said “Bye, Pearl!” And at the vet, I rubbed her ears and held her head for her last breath and said the same thing.

My mother told me that when I was going through a rough time, she knew that Pearl was taking care of me. This is absolutely true, and a wonderful tribute to a truly unique soul.

“Why do I call you Peach? Because you’re round and fuzzy on the outside and sweet on the inside!”

Maggie

This is going to be sad.

Maggie is gone.

She had been sick for the last several months with nearly every horrible thing that can happen to a Boxer dog, and finally it just became too much. We took her to the emergency vet on Sunday and she didn’t come home. She’s better off, the pain is gone, she has found peace, and so on. All the standard things people always say absolutely apply here, and as usual, none of them help very much.

Maggie knew how to press the top of her head right into my chest when I needed it. Maggie smelled like maple syrup. Maggie loved having her belly rubbed, and cheese, and her big pillow on the couch. Maggie hated thunderstorms and wanted to hide under my office desk until they were over. Maggie limped out on arthritic hips and a bum leg to hop around in the yard under the giant oak tree with me because no matter how old she got or how much it hurt, she was still a puppy on the inside and she wanted to play.

Maggie was the first dog to notice Simon in his crib as we brought him home, and I will never forget the amazing look on her face when she saw him.

For eleven years, this beautiful, soulful dog loved me and I loved her. I have a 77 pound hole in my chest, and it hurts. I hope it always does a little bit; in that way, she’s still here.

New Job: St. Jude

I have a personal re-org announcement for you:

Yesterday was my last official day as a system administrator at The University of Memphis. I’m starting at the end of this month as a Enterprise Network Storage Architect† at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

I was at the U of M for a little over five years, and for the most part, I really enjoyed it. I worked with some good people in the IT Division and throughout the University. I did interesting technical work and had my share of successes. I developed professional and personal relationships that I truly appreciate. I started and finished a graduate degree in my spare time.

Most importantly, I met Molly.

I’m looking forward to St. Jude. It’ll be fun to work on projects where you can say “petabyte” with a straight face. I’m excited to contribute to the work the researchers are doing, and a quick walk through the halls of the main buildings makes it obvious that this work is important and often miraculous.

Most importantly, I can occasionally have lunch with Molly. And Simon.

† – Yes, this is a mouthful.

Simon

Our son was born three weeks ago.

Simon James McMurry was born Tuesday, December 22, 2010 at 8:11am. Eight pounds, three ounces, 20 inches.  Lots of hair, dark eyes, chubby cheeks, ten fingers, ten toes.

Simon gives a meaningful stare from his hospital bassinet (2010 Dec 22)

Simon is beautiful and funny and I love him more than I ever dreamed I could.

Since he’s been home, the three of us have gotten to know each other in a hundred different ways. Molly and I are doing great with him so far, but I think that’s mostly because he’s a really great baby. “Team Simon,” we remind each other when adult fussiness is about to flare up.

Simon sees the toy giraffes in his Pack 'n Play (2011 Jan 02)

I am Simon’s full time PR agent. Facebook, Flickr, Twitter, email, etc. There are lots of family and friends to keep in the loop. It’s been fun, but there’s a limit. I’m not interested in sharing minute details of his life to the public at large, but I suspect he’ll show up here quite a bit.

Simon enjoys a peaceful lunch (2011 Jan 11)