+ I have officially read as many books this year as I did last year. I don’t feel like that means much, other than the fact that I’m reading more. I don’t feel terribly accomplished or smarter. I have, however, been enjoying the challenge more than I expected I would. Reading doesn’t ever feel like homework. I guess that’s because I’ve chosen books I know I’ll like. Of course, there are a few books that continue to hang out in my “Currently Reading” list ::cough::Great Gatsby::cough::Devil In the White City::cough:: because I lose interest and pick up something shinier and newer ::cough::The Night Circus::cough. But even the lingering books manage to win me back eventually.
There are nights now when I choose not to even touch the TV remote, and these nights constantly surprise me. Usually they are nights when Eric won’t be home until after 9:00 and I know I can get a solid amount of reading done. In the past, I would have chosen to watch TV, because I have several guilty pleasure shows that Eric not only refuses to watch, but will not even stay in the room for. These shows are backlogged now, and that’s fine. I’m sure Elena hasn’t finished choosing between Damon and Stefan, and Emma hasn’t saved Storybrook from Regina yet, so I’m not missing much. And I love rediscovering that passion I had as a kid, when all I wanted to do was sit and read for hours. I mentioned previously that I wasn’t back to that point yet, but I’m feeling closer.
Eric and I took a trip this weekend with some friends and we had a fabulous time. We played board games, watched movies, went shopping – this was all fantastic. But also fantastic was the 45 minutes I spent on Saturday afternoon, curled up in a blanket on the porch, sipping a stout (it’s a new thing I’m doing – I drink stouts now), reading The Night Circus; or the hour I spent in bed on Sunday morning, quiet but for rare soft snores next to me, inching closer to finishing The Night Circus. The Night Circus was a book I hated putting down. It reminded me of when I devoured Lord of the Rings my senior year of high school. Of course I felt that way about The Hunger Games trilogy last Christmas, but this was different. This imaginary pull to finish the book was more satisfying, and I can’t explain why. Maybe I’ll have a better understanding later. I do have 45 more books to go, after all.
+ I purchased Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (WITAWITAR) from Audible on a whim. It was an inexpensive book that I could potentially listen to on my drive to and from the cabin this weekend. I don’t consider myself a runner in practice. I haven’t run since last summer for so many reasons (excuses), and even when I was running, I walked a lot. But when runners talk about running, and when they talk about a shared feeling that only runners feel – I can relate. So I wanted to hear what one of the world’s living literary legends had to say about it. He has a lot to say, and I’m really loving it. It’s quite inspiring. If I have the time before I actually finish the book, I’ll write a proper Notes on Reading post, but until then, I just wanted to jot down my thoughts on it. Murakami is charming and funny, which I suppose shouldn’t be surprising. I thought maybe this book would be a sort of self-help inspirational. It is not, or at least not in the obvious sense. I call it inspiring, of course, but it isn’t forced. WITAWITAR is a very sweet, very personal memoir from an aging runner, and it makes me want to lace up my shoes and hit the pavement again.