Book Reader, Book Reader - Where Art Thou?

Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.

Ovid

In a normal year, I read 1-2 books a week. Always have several books going and placed strategically for an easy grab: beside my bed, my chair, the backseat of my car, my book bag, the kitchen table. Pictured here is my Books To Be Read shelf in my bedroom.

I lie. Those books are just at the back of the shelf. Here's what it really looks like.

Here are the books my friend at 128 Sticks of Butter gave me the other day.
Why these collections are exceedingly abundant right now is the blogpost at hand. I've had a most difficult struggle with reading the past few months. Certainly not due to lack of good material, but, instead, a focus affair. When I sit to read, I find myself repeating the same paragraph again and again. My midlife mind takes junkets to pending tasks and exercise needs, upcoming and current family events. My brain becomes the catalog for all those written lists buried in my House of Unfinished Projects.

The inability to settle on the pages and understand the cadence of a writer's chosen words is most frustrating. How I miss the solace found in a story, traveling to unknown worlds and living the lives of others. My absence of concentration keeps me from seeking those travels.

I do miss the satisfaction that arrives when the last page is turned on a truly good read and the anticipation of going to the shelf to choose a new adventure.

How will I remedy this? As often true, the words I write here have clued me in on what I'm missing. That perhaps the reason everything whirls about my head is because I'm not letting it find calm in other worlds. That vacation can bring health. That burying myself in the binding of a good book is a fine way to settle myself.

Today, during my off period at school, I opened Five Queen's Road by Sorayya Khan, a dear friend. Between the beauty of Sorayya's writing, the quiet of the classroom, and nothing there to remind me of tasks undone, I read. Most lovely. Set the pace for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow, I will reassure myself that this rest is only vital fodder for my future crops.

With this posted, the fallow field is ready. I'm reading a book until bed.

To order Sorayya's book, please find the address here. Her first book, Noor, may be ordered at Amazon.com

The Weekend Arrives

Your hair may be brushed, but your mind's untidy. You've had about seven hours of sleep since Friday. No wonder you feel that lost sensation. You're sunk from a riot of relaxation.

Ogden Nash

Tis no better day than Friday, I say. Unless you're a substitute teacher in the final hour of the school day. One can breathe the anticipation building throughout the day. By eighth period? Kids antsy. Unruly. Me? Ready to fly away.

But one thing about subbing, I don't take papers or lesson plans home. (My pay reflects that also.) I walk out the door, free as a bird. Will especially do that this weekend. Time for the annual Bunco weekend of overindulgence and relaxation. My group of 14 women has been together for over 20 years. We all met at the park, new stay at home moms, 8am and pushing our kids in the swings as we struggled to get used to a world without a paycheck, annual reviews, and a certain schedule.

An eclectic bunch -- artists, teachers, an enigma, a physician, hygienist, nurse, pilot, accountant, computer guru, saleswoman, writer, dog trainer, curriculum leader, and unlimited other talents -- we have met the second Tuesday of the month since 1989. Haven't played bunco in over ten years, but meet for the food, comfort, and talk. Lots of changes in our lives since way back then - children born, graduated, married. Deaths, divorces, cancers, depressions, a return to the workforce -- all those things life brings have bound us further. Even though many of us only see or talk to one another once in that month, we are a relaxed group when in company. I am blessed to have these bunco bitches, which is how we refer to ourselves. (There is another group in our neighborhood called the Bunco Babes. We don't belong to that one.)

Since I'll be bringing my laptop to further this Nanowrimo pursuit to move my novel forward, I'm going to let them help me write a sex scene in my book. I can only imagine how twisted that will turn out. (I'm only about 15,000 words behind the 25,000 I should have by this point.)

For some great reading, head on over to 128 Sticks of Butter. See how that friend of mine has shed her pounds and looks fabulous. (I really don't like her.) Or check out Old, Who, Me? to find a lovely tribute to our veterans. To The Smitten Image for a tribute to Canadian service men and women. Perhaps to the thirdstorey window for a little poetry. Or to Wander to the Wayside for a story of adoption. Turquoise Diaries for a quick trip to Sri Lanka or visit the Lazy Writer at A Walk in My Shoes for a lesson on adding tension to your writing. (Not your life - your writing.)

While I'm touting the greatness of others, let me also promote the new book of a very dear friend, Sorayya Khan. We go way back to college days - actually her husband and I do (I met him a few years before they became an item.) Sorayya's new book, Five Queen's Road, has just arrived via the mail. I can't wait to read it. Her previous book, Noor, is a favorite of mine. Sorayya is a most lovely woman. You will enjoy her writing.

And now, to the weekend where I'll take a break from the thoughts of midlife jobhunting and reflect on the gratitude I hold for a world filled with the diverse gifts of others. The picture at the beginning of my post is, I'm sure, the last bloom of my hibiscus plant for the year, so I'm sharing.
May you all enjoy your weekend in the waning days of Autumn -- before the burgeoning schedule of the holidays overtakes us.