Right now I'm at the place I was over a year ago on his blanket. A lot of rows of one color TSS which has really slowed my crocheting mojo. On the one hand, I'm able to zip along pretty quickly since it's just one color; on the other hand, I want to gouge out my eyes with my hook because I'm getting bored. I'm getting tempted to put it aside to finish the stained glass window blanket since I'm just about done with that one, too. Buuuut....I really really want to get this done. Like yesterday.
So, instead of playing the field with my other crochet works, I'm putting my foot down and staying faithful to this one.
Except....well, cheating on it with a book doesn't really count, does it? I mean, I have to read this particular book anyway, so....a little dalliance on the side is fine, right?
I finally started reading The Fault In Our Stars and I can say that this dude got me from the very first paragraph.
Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.I mean, come on! How could I not love a book that started that way?? Actually, reading the first couple of pages made me love this author if only because he writes the way I think and the way I tend to write, as well. I like his humor. I am picking up what he is laying down, yo.
At dinner tonight, I told my Mister how excited I am to be in this book club and that I'm going to read this book tonight. I then told him that I also ordered the second book club book, A Tale of Two Cities- a book I'd eventually order for myself anyway since I love classics. He suggested that it might not be a bad idea to look into an e-reader.
Now, I've thought about the whole Kindle thing in the past, but as soon as the subject peeks it's little head over the clutter in my brain, I quickly squash it down, spray it with Raid, and say a couple Hail Marys just to be safe.
As I told my Mister, I love books. I love the feel of books in my hand. I love seeing the thickness of pages migrate from my right hand to my left hand. I love the sound of the pages turning. I love the smell of books. Reading to me is more than just absorbing lines of words on a page. It's an experience.
I thought I expressed my passion for books well and expected a nod of agreement or a, "Yeah, me too," or something along those lines from my Mister. Instead, he, adopting a rather effeminate, lisping voice, said, "I love the way the cover slides through my fingers..."
DUDE. I didn't know whether to smack him upside the head for mocking me or smother him in hugs and kisses for really, truly understanding my book lust.
So, if you'll excuse me while I slip into something a little more comfortable, I've got a date tonight that I'm rather excited about. Sorry Blanket-o-Love. She really doesn't mean anything- you're the one I love. It's just for tonight...ok maybe tomorrow night, too, but I'll be back in your (unending) embrace soon. Promise.