i’m cuddled under a blanket with a box of kleenex. i’m pretending it’s snowing. (it isn’t snowing. the high was 72 degrees today.) this lingering sickness has me all souped up in a fog. the kids are edgy. they don’t feel well. they don’t like it when i don’t feel well. which makes me pause. what did i do when my mom was under the weather? honestly, i don’t have many memories of my invincible mother being not so invincible. there was a particular birthday of mine that she was in bed because of her back. i think she had knee surgery while i was in high school. but mostly she just seamlessly got us from one thing to another. there should be a medal for that.

which brings me to books. i have been reading game of thrones by george r.r. martin for ages. i think i started in november and i just barely finished. at first i was pretty taken: i liked that martin spends most of his time dismantling any expectations you might have about epic fantasy. and that lasted a while. and then the raping and pillaging began. i knew that it would. and it did. and i couldn’t stomach it. i guess i’ll just have to make up my own ending to this series.

i’ve also been listening to the necromancer by michael scott. it’s the third or fourth novel in a series. or maybe the fifth. i really enjoyed the first, the alchemyst. it was everything i enjoy in an audio book. but the series is really starting to grate on me. i honestly can’t tell if it’s the reader or the book itself. scott’s writing is just tired. every sentence is the same. every character is described the same way. i want to know what happens in the series, but i don’t think i can listen to the phrase “her hands splayed” or “her eyes wide” one more time. i should probably just check them out from the library and skim to the end. how’s that for endorsement?

and now i’m savoring my way through if on a winter’s night a traveler by italo calvino. i read this book first when i was cute and little and 19 and living in london and knew so much more than i do now. a friend sent it to me and i think i melted through it in a matter of days.  i remember it leaving me breathless and moved which is why i picked it up for a little reread. it is beautiful. and startling. and disorienting. and requires so many more brain cells than what i’ve been reading lately, which tells me i need to start challenging myself again.

so any good suggestions for a little healthy brain flogging?