Two Roads.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. -Robert Frost

Friday, March 12, 2010

Archie The King...


... Charles Spaniel that is. Archie was born on November 9, 2009. Upon arriving at a pure bred puppy store, in February 2010, I had my heart set on a Puggle (a cross between a pug and a beagle); however, once inside the play pen with the little jumping-jack-flash I quickly changed my mind as she tore a new hole in my already rugged jeans and cared more about destroying anything in her path than receiving attention. Heart broken that the breed wasn't what I expected, and with a freshly-stinging cut on my finger, barely bleeding, yet somehow incredibly annoying I decided to look around at the other puppies. Might as well... besides they were SOOO cute. Among them were chihuahuas, and multiple Yorkies, one small Frenchie with a cold that was SO cute but WAY too expensive; an Akita, a frouzy teacup poodle, a couple of wrinkly pugs, some rambunctious jack russell terriers, a whiny scotty, and a desperate-for-attention weimaraner, and of course a miniature doberman pincher (I didn't even know there was such a thing!). Then as I was walking by an open top kennel I spotted this fuzzy black puff. I leaned over to scratch its belly and it lazily rolled over on its back, stuck all four paws straight in the air and yawned. I was smitten. I picked it, which I now knew was a him, up and he's big 'ole floppy ears dropped to the side to reveal the CUTEST face I have ever seen. His big round eyes looked up at me and he snuggled over to my collar bone to rest his head. Immediately I took him with a toy into a play area to see if he could possibly be as sweet awake as asleep. Once he took a big stretch he was playful, but not hyper and loving, but not invasive and I knew... he was meant for ME! I looked up his breed, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, which I knew nothing about, and worried he would be like a cocker spaniel. However, to my pleasant surprise they are actually considered quite opposite of a cocker spaniel. King Charles II LOVED this breed as evident from the fact they are in several royal paintings. They were used as foot and lap warmers as well as hot water bottle alternatives. They are also a hunting breed and were reserved only for royalty. The more information I found out the more I fell for this floppy eared dandy. And so, by the end of the day he was my newest and cutest companion. He is the most laid back, sweet, well-behaved, calm and snugly puppy ever.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

The Movement of Music

Music moves me. Music is powerful. There is a genuine soulful attachment that I often feel to the lyrics and/or the mood of a song. I don’t know why or what it is exactly, but there are songs that can bring me to tears and others that make me want to run a mile (and I hate running). Even the dictionary defines music as, an art of sound that expresses ideas and emotions in significant forms. The way a single line from a song or a simple series of notes possess a memory so powerful that upon hearing it you find yourself in tears, laughter, despair, hope, wonder or a complicated combination, is surreal. Sometimes the lyrics of a song expresses an emotion or event that we have been struggling to put into words and then…in an instant someone else has said it better than you ever could. There have been moments in my life when I was in despair or hurt, but unable to express it effectively for myself to begin the proper grieving process/healing process, but a certain song or style of music gave me permission to just…go ahead and cry. And as the tears fell I was safe within the bubble of notes to forget about the world around me and just be. Then again, music for me is also one of the most joyful experiences. Frank Sinatra makes me want to dance on a black and white checked floor with red lips and curls in my hair. And singer/songwriter music creates an atmosphere where even doing dishes seems enjoyable…at least till the CD ends.

I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music. It seems to infuse strength into my limbs and ideas into my brain. Life seems to go on without effort, when I am filled with music.
George Eliot (1819-1880)