Reading: A Love Story

I've got a few things on my mind today and since none of you are here to sit and chat with me about them, I thought I'd do a little blogging instead. Presently, Sam's in dreamland, laundry is in the wash which means the smell of Mountain Fresh Gain is in the air, and a batch of just-baked cookies is cooling on the counter. I bet you wish you were here. And, well, I wish you were because I could use the company, but then I'm still in my pajamas and haven't brushed my teeth yet, so, on second thought, it's probably better that you're not here.

Anyhoo, I'm currently pondering this blog post on The Monica Bird. The post is called "Date A Girl Who Reads":

http://themonicabird.com/post/3273155431/date-a-girl-who-reads-date-a-girl-who-spends-her

And now, I'm going to quote a little of it for you in case you don't make it over there to read it yourself...

I like this quote:

"It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does."

And this one:

"She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots."

And this one, too:

"Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads."

What a lovely way to describe those of us who wear corrective lenses because we've spent years with our eyes trained on small type under bedcovers with flashlights long past our bedtimes. I'm also a fan of the romanticizing of those of us who prefer the smell of old musty bookstores to espresso-scented Barnes and Nobles and feel our spines tingle when we stumble into hole-in-the-wall used bookstores and then subsequently lose ourselves there for hours upon hours.

So, I'm pondering these things and wishing that I had more time to read, wishing I was more disciplined about reading, and wishing I read what mattered rather than celebrity sightings, coupon blogs, and JCrew magazines (I realize these don't really classify as "reading"). I'm also lamenting the time I waste looking for deals online, checking email, and wandering around on Facebook when I could be using the very limited quiet time I have to read something that has real value.

I'm wondering how to get back to being a "girl who reads." The precious couple hours I have a day while Sam snoozes are so quickly swallowed up by the taking of showers (somewhat important), the picking up of toys (something of an effort of futility), the Facebook stalking (I just scrolled through all your vacation pictures from 2006). Seriously, I could be reading things that have weight and value and make me someone you want to chat with at parties. But, more than wanting a little intellectual stimulation and a few interesting ideas to bandy about at a dinner party, I want "the world and the worlds beyond it." I want the escape hatch that Narnia and Avonlea offer, the invitation to imagine and believe and wonder.

I've been settling for television and Facebook and magazines. I'd like to hope that I'll be "reciting Keats under my breath" in my old age rather than Michael Scott from "The Office."

Thanks, Monica Bird, whoever you are, for reminding me to read. I needed that.

Cabin Fever, Mall Kiosks and A Good Book

It's late and I should be in bed, but I'm trying to steal a few more minutes of time to myself, which is a rare commodity these days. I'm ok with that, but at the same time, an hour sans diaper changing or washing dishes or scanning the floor for small, mysterious things that could be mistaken for food by small people close to the ground is, as Mastercard might put it, "priceless."

I was almost swallowed whole by cabin fever today and since I couldn't get it together in time for Bible Study, I instead opted for a visit to The Mall. I know what you're thinking and I agree. Obviously, the mall is not an adequate substitute for the study of the Bible, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The mall visit was short and basically included three things: Chic fil a, a regretful and impetuous purchase at a random mall kiosk, and a visit to Barnes and Noble. My 6-count nugget Kid's Meal at Chic fil a was nice, despite being in the middle of a busy food court whilst feeding The Babe with one hand and myself with the other. But, what really made this venture to the mall rewarding was the 20 minutes I spent in Barnes and Noble.

When I have a moment to think about what I'd like to be doing on any given afternoon, it usually involves the dream of being by myself at Barnes and Noble, some sort of coffee beverage in my hand, leisurely wandering through the Fiction and Literature section of said store for as long as my little heart desires. On my very first Mothers' Day (which was this year), I requested as my gift from Matt (and Sam) an hour at B & N by myself and a little spending money for a book or two. Despite the fact that the hour ended up only being 45 minutes for one reason or another, it was a glorious forty and five minutes. Two books, a magazine and a cafe latte later, I was a new woman.

If you aren't a book lover or a word lover of some sort, you probably won't understand how incredibly comforting and exhilarating the smell of a new, freshly published book can be. I felt my heart unfold a little as I pushed Sam's stroller through the aisles of lovely covers and intriguing titles this afternoon. I love seeing familiar books that I've read more than once dolled up in new covers (today's favorite was "Out of Africa's" fancy new book jacket). I also love discovering new titles that I've yet to read and dream of reading one after another after Sam graduates from high school, eighteen years from now. Sigh.

Out of all those thousands of books on the shelves today, I found myself purchasing one I've read twice already. C.S. Lewis says something about what it means to read a book more than once and I wish I could remember what it was he said. I think it's something relatively close to "a book worth reading is worth reading more than once." It's possible I just made up that quote, but it reminds me of something Lewis said once...or maybe said. Sort of.

Anyhoo, I wandered over to the biography section of B & N hoping to find a copy of Condaleeza Rice's new book, as I'd just seen her interviewed about it yesterday and found my interest piqued. But, instead, I saw the familiar green cover of Martha Beck's Expecting Adam and knew immediately that I needed to read it for a third time. I won't explain why this book is one of my favorites here, but I will say that it is totally worth your time.

I felt that lovely satisfaction of purchasing something worthwhile as I swiped my card and walked out with my B & N bag hung over the handle of Sam's stroller. I'm hopeful that tomorrow's weather is overcast (i.e. perfect reading weather) and that Sam takes a long afternoon nap (i.e. wishful thinking).

Ah, Barnes and Noble, you were the welcome antidote to a bout of cabin fever and a refuge from the intellectual black hole that stay-at-home motherhood can sometimes be.

Now, if only I could undo that unfortunate mall kiosk purchase...