Happy Earth Day

So if I'm writing on my unplugged laptop during Earth Hour, is that ok? Well I suppose it'll have to be since that's exactly what I'm doing. I figured I'd be skipping Earth Hour this year because I was going to be out in Mississauga with the parental unit. But I made good time on the way home, so I walked in the apartment door just around 8:20 - plenty of time to light a few candles and prepare myself for this hour where we pay tribute to our lovely planet Earth. (I know, it's easy to be cynical about the idea of turning off the lights for one hour out of the year, but I'll resist the temptation. For one, my footprint is pretty tiny for much of the year anyway as I'm not a huge energy consumer.)

My week of reading neglected New Yorker short stories has turned out quite well. (There were also a couple of non-fiction pieces that I had set aside, so it was good to complete those.) I was able to throw into the recycling bin about seven issues, not to mention enjoying some wonderful stories in the process. One, "Awake" (available free online, and not even from the New Yorker) by Tobias Wolff, was, amazingly, from an issue way back in 2008! I have no idea why I've held on to it for so long - not to mention how since I was living in a different apartment back then, meaning I must have moved the issue with me. What folly! There were two glorious pieces which I'm glad I hadn't discarded before getting around to reading them (and both, interestingly, appear to be novel excerpts): "The Gangsters" by Colson Whitehead (whose fantastic novel The Intuitionist was one of my favourites from a few years back), and Jennifer Egan's "Ask Me If I Care." Egan is not a writer I've read before, but based on the strength of this fantastic piece of writing, I'll be seeking out more of her work. And I most certainly will read both the Whitehead and Egan novels.

It actually was a good New Yorker week all around for me as I was lucky enough to deal with one of the editors of its book blog, Book Bench. Results of my help/work should appear sometime in the coming week. It was quite heady for me to deal with someone that carried the newyorker.com e-mail address, not to mention the anticipation of seeing my small contribution appear online. I've been a New Yorker magazine fanatic (and oft subscriber) for about 20 years, so it's always been a dream to have some contact or connection with it. (In my early 20s, it was my dream to one day work at the magazine.) I'm actually quite giddy about it! It allowed me to end the week - which was already a pretty darn good one, what with seeing both Norah Jones and Catherine MacLellan in concert, as well as catching up with an old high school friend - on a wonderfully high note. (And adding to the general excitement is that I'll be back to being a city cyclist, courtesy of my parents who have given me an old but rarely used bike that was taking space in their condo locker. It just needs a few modifications: new tires, fenders, a bike rack, and some front and rear lights. I should be up and running - and thus freed from the Toronto Transit Commission - by the end of the week. Happy days indeed are here again.)