Rolling Through Books Like I’ve Got Nothing To Do

The best part about summer is all the reading I get to do while sitting at the pool with my fish kid. Up until last summer, Caroline was not a confident swimmer. Consequently, I spent EVERY MINUTE of her time in the water sitting on the edge of the pool. My tan was spectacular, but, let’s just say that pool time for me wasn’t nearly as pleasurable as it was for Caroline. I don’t happen to enjoy freezing cold water and being surrounded by a swarm of kids not looking where they’re kicking. So, there I sat, an attentive and protective mom, on the uncomfortably hard and hot concrete in the blazing Georgia sun, with my legs hanging over the edge, counting down the minutes until break time when I could sit in the shade and crack open my book for 10 minutes.

It took two summers of swimming lessons for the swimming light bulb to go on in her head. In fact, last year she took her second session of lessons at the end of May. Even after the classes ended, she was still a bit uneasy. I left for a long weekend to attend my cousin’s wedding in California; I don’t know what happened while I was gone, but upon my return, Caroline morphed into her aquatic alter ego, Swim-o-line, the overly talkative fish.

It was the best gift ever! Caroline could swim with confidence and I could sit in the shade and read.

See, just look at her. Does this look like a competent swimmer, or what?

Just so you know, I’m keeping this picture for the sole purpose of humiliation in the teenage years. I have some goofier pictures, but I’m keeping those hidden until I really need them.

Paybacks, baby. Paybacks.

So now that I can read in the shade and forget that Caroline is even with me keep a close eye on my beloved spawn, I’m happy to go to the pool. I pack up some snacks and a couple of cold beverages and get lost in a book. It’s true that I have to look up occasionally to readjust goggles, search for water toys and hand out snacks, but for the most part, I read until I’m told that it’s time to go home.

As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t read heavy works of literature. I like mysteries, especially with a culinary theme. Easy reads. Books that don’t require too much thinking. An escape to allow my brain to recuperate from the neurotic obsessing I put it through on a daily basis.

Craig and I have been reading through Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series. Who can resist a story about a hapless female bounty hunter who can’t keep herself out of sticky situations? It’s not often that Craig and I are interested in the same books, but we found common ground with these. On a whim, I picked up book number eleven at the Dollar Tree a while back; after reading and enjoying it, we’ve started back at the beginning with book number one.

I took a break from the Stephanie Plum books on Saturday to read “Home Safe” by Elizabeth Berg. Even with several interruptions and housewifery things to attend to, I managed to finish the book in about seven hours. It was SO very good. I’ve always enjoyed Elizabeth Berg’s writing, despite the fact that her book “Open House” (which was wonderful) was on Oprah’s book club list. I have some sort of Oprah aversion, but for the sake of fabulous writing, I’ll let that slide.

I keep hoping that Caroline won’t grow weary of the pool. If she does, I’ll cry. I find it nearly impossible to read here when the neighborhood kids have infiltrated every crack and crevice of my house. I suppose that as long as there are kids at the pool to play with, Caroline will be quite content.

See, I found something positive about summer!

And you thought all did was gripe and whine.

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One response

  1. I tend to stay away from Oprah's list, after I made the mistake of The House of Sand and Fog. Hated it. Hated it so much. Glad you're actually reading fiction. I'm proud of you.

Yo.

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