I love it when Barnes and Noble has its dollar days. Thick, fresh-smelling hardcover books for $1.99, woody paperbacks for a buck. Of course, I need to spend $20 for free shipping, but that is the price I must pay.
I have always dreamed of this: a child pulling apart the packing tape with small fingers, hacking at cardboard with dull scissors. He shuffles through the books until he sees the blazing titles and crazy cartoonish fonts that indicate a book Mom does not want. He flings himself at his mother in gratitude. "You know me so well," he cries out. "You knew exactly what I would want to read!"
That moment filled my cup for days.
I begin my new job on July 21 as assistant professor of English. It is a reward after several years of hard work, but I will miss two things - my time for writing and reading. I expect that I will have to change some habits (10 hours of sleep per day? really?) in order to finish writing my novel, but I know I will always find time for a quick read (burned chicken for dinner, anyone?).
Meanwhile, packages are still arriving from B&N, along with more envelopes with new, exciting books, like Tears in the Darkness (wow, I have to take it slow because it is so heart-wrenching), Josef Jaeger (YA historical with gay heroes - where were you when I was a teen?), and Hume's Fork (I don't even know how to describe this book yet, but I can't wait to try). Books piled into a three-foot tall tower, books tucked under my journals and planner, books hidden in magazine racks and bathrooms.
I may rinse my mind with some easy reads as I wade through the next weeks, full of family plans and commitments. Or I may tackle a tough tome during vacation, something to lug on planes and boats... something to read to appear intelligent and distinguished. Or I may just plunge in, like the old Nestea pool commercials: sip and fall back into the coolness of pulped pages.