The Last Time I was Me

I love to read. I read too muchtrash. I read literature. I read when forced by well-meaning but annoying people non-fiction. I almost always read things that fall into my lap because I'm too lazy too busy to get this done myself. Recently I have been blessed with great finds.





A co-worker gave me the famous EAT PRAY LOVE, and told me I had to read it in a "you need this because you are going off the deep end" kind of way. Of course I was clueless to its fame before receiving it. After reading that I decided I was going to become a convert to meditation. When I have time. Uh-huh.



My assistant and I often trade books. She generally takes more time in searching and has much better taste that I do with my bent towards mindless sexy trash. Last week I had just finished another book she gave me -

And she had raved about it. We had both read Santos' other book, Love Walked In

Now Love Walked In was awesome. Made me laugh. Made me cry. A lot. But I loved it even if it gave me bloodshot, puffy eyes. So I was excited, in a self-inflicted pain kind of way, about Belong to Me. Sadly, her second book didn't move me like the first. My assistant was a little miffed that I didn't love Belong to Me.

So when My assistant handed me this:

I was a bit skeptical. Plus I don't have time to read much right now. I am ridiculously busy at work. It took me a while to read Belong to Me. And I had a painting project scheduled with the kids for the weekend. And, get this - she tells me it's a library book and she only has a week left on it! OK so I'm supposed to take it home and read a little bit and decide if I like it then try to find it elsewhere if I do. HA. sometimes my assistant is too funny for words.

It takes me 3 days to remember to take it home. I innocently picked up the book while waiting for Daughter's summer soccer something or other. And I'm hooked. Over the Painting Weekend I mysteriously disappear for hours on end short periods of time where I read a chapter or two. I stay up nearly all night reading. I am laughing out loud. Crying a lot. Living in the book. I expect to look out my window and see the river flowing. I want to Bash "Slick Dick's" head in. I feel the drama, the sadness, the happiness, the hope. Wow. I haven't been this hooked on a book in a long time.

SO I return to work Monday with the book and put it on my assistant's desk. She comes in to my office, where I have my back to her and am working on my computer, and she shakily says, shocked, "Did you hate it? Why did you give it back?"

I turned around and smiled, "That was the singular best book I have read in a long, long time. I finished it. Thanks for giving me a great weekend."

Um, so yeah, I recommend the book. Just make sure you have blocked out time because you might not be able to put it down. And be prepared for the emotional roller coaster.