We've spent the weekend watching movies. A lot of movies. Got five in yesterday, haven't really started on them today since I took a nap as soon as we got back from church. (Ok, Greg tried to watch Click but just turned it off, apparently it was less than good.)
So you may be wondering something like: But Susan, you have this big stack of books piled up in your bedroom that you acquired through PBS and have been looking forward to digging into. Why all the movies instead?
Well, you're right. And I do have quite the stack. To make matters worse, I'm 2/3 of the way through My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult and I'm dying to know how it ends. I'm at that really climatic spot where their in the trial and you don't yet know if the sister's going to agree to the kidney transplant or if it'll really make a difference in saving Kate from her leukemia anyway. I want to know how it ends!
But the second fastest way to make me nauseous these days is to start reading. (The easiest way is to put a toothbrush in my mouth, but that's a post for a little later this week as I'm still ignoring the fact I have a dentist appointment Wednesday.)
Sigh. So my alternative has been movies. The problem with movies is they make me want to read. I've now added a couple more books to the list that I own and want to re-read after watching some related movies this weekend. One of them had me digging through a forgotten box of books under the guest bed to see if I did indeed still own it, and I have to admit that I was quite amused at the contents of the box. I can't believe some of the things I read for fun during high school.
Everything from Faulkner to Vonnegut to Howard Pyle. Jekyll and Hyde, Dracula, Gaston LeRoux's original novel of the Phantom of the Opera. I remember sneaking that one into Spanish class. I have poetry - a ragged paperback of Whitman to an ancient hardback of Ogden Nash. None of that was assigned reading. Although I'm sure purchasing the old hardback of the short stories of Stephen Vincent Benet was inspired by a story we read for class my senior year.
My mom used to tell me that if I'd read, she'd buy me books. Period. And she did. And I took advantage! I remember clearly going to the little Walden Books in the mall (all we had in Vicksburg) and heading straight to the classic literature section, one tiny section, then running my hands over the spine of the books looking for something of interest. Which isn't to say I never read fluff. I had my share of Stephen King and Jackie Collins, but most of the time I wanted something not just entertaining but interesting.
I do hope I can pass that trait on to Tater Tot.