The Accidental Addict

Suzanne Wilson, the woman who was Jeff's advisor in grad school, is someone who I have over the years come to like and appreciate quite a bit. She has given our family some very lovely gifts. The biggest, of course, is the expertise, help and care she lavished upon Jeff in order to see him successfully through a dissertation and most importantly, to a job. She has entertained us in grand style. When I spotted at least five Joanna Trollope novels on one of her bookshelves, she gave me the gift of elevating my favorite guilty pleasure novelist to a class far above trashy fiction.

You see, Suzanne is not just a voracious reader and an extremely smart and intellectual person. She is an exquisite writer herself, and her standards are high. Every year, she gave Jeff and I the gift of a book at Christmas. One year, she gave us Digging to America by Anne Tyler.

And so set me on a path of devouring Anne Tyler novels. It was a wonderful book, and I proceeded to check other Tyler books out of the library, each time vowing I would only read a chapter or two and then set it down. It never worked. I would finish the book in less than 48 hours, feed my family obviously not well-rounded meals and have mountains of laundry awaiting me when I was done. Wisely, I have learned to only pick up novels by Trollope and Tyler when I am on breaks from school. I physically cannot stop myself when am in the middle of one. Even the one or two I later judged not as good as the others.

Yesterday the girls begged to go to the library, so I ponied up the fines we owed in overdue fees and the girls walked out with two bulging totes of books. In the end, I could not resist a book for me, and picked up The Accidental Tourist. I have stayed away from this one because Jeff tried to get me to watch the movie when I was 17, and I remember falling asleep on the couch in the basement rec room of Jeff's parents' old house, totally unimpressed. Now that I've read a few Tyler novels, I could see how they would make boring movies. Also, I have seen movies after reading books and have been disappointed. And I believe my tastes have changed a little since high school.

I finished it this afternoon. The girls built an elaborate Playmobil vet office extravaganza today, turning down my offer to take them to a lake where we could all read on blankets near the water. So I took my book to the deck and read outside this lovely afternoon. I couldn't have put the book down if I'd wanted to.

The girls both cheered when they were told pancakes were on the menu for tonight, but I am aware that a steady diet of pancakes is not good for growing children.

Enter at this point, my husband's endless graciousness. When I sheepishly reported that no, I didn't get to the grocery and told him what I did today, he said in a slightly exasperated voice, "Honey, next week it all starts back up again for you. I'm glad you read your book today."

He's so great. He's the reason that although I love the stories, I can never completely identify with the characters in most of these books. My husband is my always was and always will be. I mean, how could he not be? He actually thanked me for making dinner tonight. Pancakes. *Sigh*. I love that man.

It really was the last day for reading. Tomorrow I'm at the Center, then Thursday thru Saturday we are spending with friends at their cottage. Then, school starts for me and for Jeff (which means he's gone 2 nights a week and I have to have dress shirts and pants washed and ironed for him). And then I have to be done with engrossing fiction for awhile. Because I can't handle it.