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I wasn’t planning on blogging today but…

Don was playing on my computer, went to stats-counter and saw that I’ve had 1146 hits today.  “You have to blog,“ he said.  “People want to know!“

“Know what?“ I said, sullenly, but it didn’t help.  He handed my laptop over to me and went over and sat on the other sofa to continue his reading saga of Anna Karenina.  I think perhaps that is why he decided I must blog, because he wanted to read instead of entertaining me. 

So here I am.  Blogging, while he tucks into his great literary masterpiece, feet propped up on the coffee table crossed at the ankle, the top foot wiggling wildly, nibbling at the thumb on his left hand.  He moves his mouth slightly when he reads.  I think it helps him focus. 

Now the thumb is out of his mouth and he is chewing his bottom lip. 

I could never read the way he does.  If I am reading a massive 800 pages-plus book, I have to read it lying in bed or on the sofa.  My arms would get too tired sitting up, holding the weight of it in the air close enough to my aging eyes so that they could see.  And I would need a stack of candy or a bag of some kind of crunchy, salty edibles to nibble on, to make the reading of such a large book a special occasion. 

I know this is not an admirable quality for an author to admit to, but if a book is over a certain length, I hesitate before buying it, because I am the type of reader, that once I start in on a book, it is very hard for me to put it down.  Now I can plan my time so that I can slip away from my less pressing duties for a day or two, but an 800+ page book would require at least a four day commitment, and that is a much harder amount of uninterrupted time to carve out. 

Whereas Don always has around five books on the go at all times.  Taste testing one and then the other, dabbling in which ever one he feels like.  That’s the way he reads.  I could never read that way!  I get too wrapped up in the story, need to know how it plays out, what happens.  Can’t be fully present in my own life until I finish it.  When I’m in the middle of a book, I am a bad cook.  Reading or when I am writing the first draft of one of my own.  I over salt things, forget the baking powder, am too liberal with the ingredients. 

If I invite you over for dinner and you know I am in the throes of a book.  Politely suggest that perhaps dinner out would be a nice break.  You won’t regret it.

Well, that didn’t take him long.  I just looked up and Anna Karenina is back down on the coffee table and he is curled up on the sofa sleeping.  There is something about the position that his body is in, that reminds me of my children when they were small.  The way they would fall asleep in these impossibly bent positions.  He looks sweet, the sound of his sleep breath.  Cozy.