Saturday, March 29, 2008


I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.

~e.e. cummings

My dogsitting days have come to a close: yesterday my mom and I drove the two-hour trek to return baby Cole Bear (as I've taken to calling him) to his adopted mom, my sister, Erin. It was a sweet reunion, with Erin and puppy eager to see each other, and with Cole eager to see his twin sister, Lillie. I must admit that I was sad to see him go as he was quite the lover, and always wanted to cuddle with me. That said, I am also excited at the prospect of sleeping in again, not to mention the idea of actually sleeping uninterrupted through the night.

We took the pups to Trap Pond, somewhere near Laurel, Delaware, which has the northern most stand of natural Bald Cypress Trees. I had no idea what Bald Cypresses looked like, but upon seeing them I was overwhelmed by their majestic beauty. They stand in the water, with knee-like protrusions jutting out. There was a nature trail that winded up around whatever body of water that was, and afforded us great views of the trees. The puppies enjoyed the walk, and did mother and daughters, and the only thing we had to be wary of were ticks.

Today my mother and I arose early and went to our church for CPR training. I was reluctant to go, as it meant setting my alarm for 6:45am, but now that it is behind me, I am delighted to be a more useful member of society. I learned a couple of things which I thought were interesting:

1. If you don't do anything else, at the very least do the chest compressions,
2. Always call 911 ASAP (that seems a no-brainer but read number 3 to see why,
3. Once you start CPR you are legally required to continue until help arrives. If you don't call 911, you may be doing CPR for a LONG, long time.

My parents also indulged me in turning out all the lights tonight for Earth Hour from 8-9pm. It was meant as a show of solidarity to conserve energy. Apparently, big cities (including my former home-for-a-minute, Dubai) planned to cooperate and turned out the lights on some major buildings. 7:30pm found me circling around the house turning out every light I could find, as well as digging up, and lighting candles. My mom and I left around 8:45pm to drive around the neighborhood (I was curious to see who else participated-- about 30%) and to go to the grocery store, and when we came back, of course my dad had managed to spill wax everywhere. Somehow I knew he shouldn't have been left home unattended.

I took a test on Facebook (yes, very silly), entitled something along the lines of, "Which Jane Austen character are you?" My results said that I am Catherine Morland from Northanger Abbey. The sad thing is apparently I read that book last year (I keep a list), but I have no recollection of it whatsoever. I think I've come to the conclusion that Austen's books aren't that memorable, which isn't to say that they're not good. The truth is, I throughly enjoy a Jane Austen novel, but I can't seem to remember them or their characters much, or rather a few stick out (Yes, Mr. Darcy, please), but overall, give me a few months, and I forget what I've read. Now, I suppose I shall have to go back and re-read Northanger Abbey so that I can reacquaint myself with Ms. Morland so I know who exactly it is that I "resemble."

Also, I read a funny article on called, "It's Not You, It's Your Books." It's talks about how what someone is reading can be a deal-breaker. Perhaps sad to say, but I think that I personally subscribe to this philosophy. I am a bit of a classics fan, and while I might cut someone a break about Pushkin (see article), there are other authors I would not be so forgiving about. I have a clipping in my possession that was written by novelist Jennifer Egan. It's a little blurb that details how she fell for her future husband at the age of 23. She was sitting in a garden in Cambridge, when he joined her and referred to the "sticky little leaves" (which is what Ivan in The Brothers Karamazov calls them) that were being unfurled above in the springtime trees. Egan simply nodded and pointed to her journal she had been writing in, where written in her own hand were the words, "Sticky little leaves." Ahhh, a marriage of true minds.

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