How pathetic am I that I can’t even remember what books I have read over the last two weeks? I am once again attempting to keep a running list of what I have read for reference, to avoid re-reading (I can’t tell you how many times I have started a book only to realize the characters and the plot were just a little too familiar), and, well, just for fun.
My husband jokes that I don’t read books, I eat them, and I would have to agree. I devour them at a rapid rate, let them digest for a few days, then they are mostly flushed out of my system to make room for more. I blame it all on the speed reading course I took in 7th grade gifted English. While other kids were still sounding out Judy Blume, my class was being timed on how many pages per minute of Lord of the Flies we could read and comprehend. And I learned that when I read quickly, I could read more. So while my husband can list all the characters in the last five novels he has read, I have a difficult time telling you what books I returned to the library yesterday. They were great, I enjoyed them, but now I am moving on.
So that made one of today’s exercises much more mind-boggling than it had any right to be. It should have been so simple to make a list of my favorite Chick Lit books, the memorable reads that not only provided a few blissful hours of escapism, but also touched on some deeper topics, some bursting with joy, some with parts almost too painful to read. All had to be novels I ate in two days or less because I simply could not put them down and used every excuse to put off my daily grind for a few extra hours of indulgence.
To check out the winners at the moment:
Lit for Chicks With A Soul
On another note, I have noticed that as I am spending so many more hours attached to this dang computer, my dear munchkin is becoming more addicted to Santa’s generous gift of a wii. It is absolutely amazing how quickly a 6-year-old mind can meld with a controller and a screen. Perhaps a Jedi mind trick? I keep wondering why he doesn’t want to spend his free time lost in a book as well. Granted, I realized back when he was in the womb that boys are hard wired differently from girls in just about every way imaginable. It practically takes duct tape to get him to sit still for any period of time, but I still yearn for him to want to snuggle up to me with a book of his own. I have also realized that I need to watch how many hours my ass is attached to this comfy desk chair before it becomes to wide to fit into it. I don’t plan on trading my size 4 jeans I worked so hard to get into for a size 14 anytime soon, so maybe I should stop typing and go do some pilates or something…I can dream, can’t I?
