I’m not gonna lie, I hated reading books when I was growing-up. Obviously I enjoyed children’s books but once I hit a certain age (too old to be reading The Bernstein Bears) my idea of a “good read” started with Calvin and Hobbs and stopped with Archie comics. I’m sure part of this was due to the fact that my sister had her nose stuck in a book for most of her preteen and teenage life. It wasn’t fun for me. I just wanted to play and her obsessive reading habits seriously interfered with my play time. Once I started Jr. High and High School reading became a chore and a homework assignment…and really, who likes that! I couldn’t stand having a book shoved at me with the expectation that not only would I have to read it, but I would have to pay attention enough to write a book report and glean some sort of educational enlightenment from it (seriously, Fifth Business was quite possibly the worst thing to ever happen to me). I do have to mention that I loved reading Shakespeare and Poe because I was a theater junkie…but that’s about it.
Anyways, all of that was a lead-up to me saying that I’ve slowly realized that I’ve gone through some sort of maturing process and I find myself in the exact opposite situation. Apparently I’m a book-worm. The pendulum has swung. Before I know what’s happened I find myself tightly packed into the corner of our couch wrapped in a cozy blanket, coffee in hand completely absorbed in my current read. It’s gotten so bad that for the past while my favorite date with James is grabbing a coffee and heading to a bookstore. I walk in and am immediately excited by all of the possibilities (similar to when I walk in to a fabric or craft store). Overwhelmed actually. So many books, such little time. I also have to monitor my trips to the thrift store considering there are so many random books to be bought for next to nothing. At least at Chapters and McNally Robinson you are somewhat limited due to the high prices…not so with the thrift store. My book hoarding has even spilled over into children’s literature for the kids. My bookshelves are overflowing, their bookshelves are overflowing. I’ve even asked James if we can do a whole wall in the basement as one huge built-in for all of our books.
Afternoon quiet-time reading, in-the-bath reading, before-bed reading, waiting-in-the-truck-for-James-to-be-done-in-the-hardware-store reading. It’s all wonderful. Just in the past few months I’ve read The Hobbit and the Lord Of The Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien, She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb (which I only read because it was similar to the name of my blog…I wouldn’t recommend it), Laughing At The Law by Bruce Day, Searching For God Knows What by Donald Miller, Say You’re One Of Them by Uwem Akpan, and A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah. I’m currently reading The Professor by Charlotte Bronte and next-up is Emma by Jane Austen and Call Of the Wild by Jack London.
I supposed all of this has just been an elaborate drawn-out way to say sorry that it’s been a bit quiet around here…I’ve had my nose stuck in a book!