I'm Willing to be Audible.com's Bitch

I love to read.

I was that child about whom it is said, half with pride, half with annoyance, "She's always got her nose in a book." In my case I always had my nose in a few books, being constitutionally unable to read just one book at a time.

Even as a new mother, I read voraciously, balancing books on my burrito-wrapped baby so I could read while I nursed. Just not parenting books. Because I didn't need yet another voice telling me all the ways I was doing it wrong. Like that I shouldn't be using my baby as a lecturn.

But something changed the last few years.

It never occurred to me that my reading would drop off as my babes grew older. I'd managed to read while nursing, damn it! Reading with older kids seemed like it would be a piece of cake. With merengue frosting. And sprinkles.

I was wrong.

Not surprisingly.

I missed reading. So this year I decided to make an effort to read again, setting a goal for myself of one book per month (which seemed like a slow and respectable place to begin, no?).

When I saw an ad for Audible.com*,I knew I might have found my answer. I was already starting to get annoyed with Netflix - having it on in the background while I did laundry or worked on a cross stitch was great... until I had to wait too long for new episodes of my favorite shows and increasingly watched shows I only marginally liked.

I've just finished listening to my 2nd book, and I have loved it! Maybe I'll even start doing some book reviews here. Because I know you're all dying to hear my often strange opinions about the often strange selection of books I choose to read.

And it turns out I haven't outgrown some old habits. Once I started listening to audio books, I couldn't help but pick up a regular book or two that had been languishing in my to-read pile**. Apparently I still like to bury my nose in multiple narratives.

*My blog is so tiny that it feels sort of silly to even point this out, but I will receive nothing for this endorsement.

**My husband would like to point out that "pile" is a euphamism for "multiple piles that spill across the floor on their way to trip me."

Fun at the Shrink, No Shrink Required

Ran into some interesting folk at the shrink this morning. Which, let's be honest, is part of the fun of going to a shrink. Let's guess who's anxious, who's depressed, and who might just be psychotic!

They were a couple of real bikers - well worn leathers, gray hair hanging around craggy faces, that lovely eau d'tobacco. I let one of them know the staff didn't seem to be around, and we exchanged pleasantries so I couldn't help but notice the single teardrop tattooed just below his left eye*. His friend came in a few minutes later, the heavy smoker's wheeze suggesting he needed more time to climb the stairs. We exchanged pleasantries too.

It amused me to imagine they were there for couple's therapy.

Only later did it occur to me that it's a shrink's office, not a psychologist's office, and perhaps I'd completely failed the which-one-is-psychotic question.

Then it turned out I had the date wrong, and I didn't actually have an appointment for today. Because there is nothing like randomly popping in at your shrink's office to convince him your ADD symptoms are under control...

*Wikipedia has informed me that although this is usually a prison tattoo, it does not always mean the wearer has killed someone. And I like to think this guy went to prison for embezzlement.