The moment I have even a perceived break, I always plan too much reading. The books at my bedside sound like that Christmas song:
"Twelve books of fiction, eleven book reviews, ten magazines, nine books on welfare, eight books on tape, seven short stories, six textbooks, five jour-nal articles" and so on.
I am currently on an Ann Patchet jag having read the book The Magician's Assistant (on a suggestion from Aunt-On-Mom's-Side), and Truth and Beauty. I'm in the middle of The Patron Saint of Liars and yesterday having unsucessfully searched for a travel book on Budapest and not wanting to leave the bookstore emptyhanded, I picked up Bel Canto. For Chirstmas I received: Middlesex, The Best American Short Stories 2004, the Best American Non-Required Reading 2004, and a book called Five-Minutes Mysteries. These do not include the many books I purchased for my job in anticipation of this break including Liberating Economics: Feminist Perspectives on Families, Work, and Globalization; The Working Poor; Reorienting Economics and American Dream. ALSO, I chose a new book to use in my upcoming intermediate microeconomics class and I am reviwing a book for an upcoming issue of a journal.
Having said all of that, what I have been reading is fluff. No. Uber-fluff. There's a great column I just discovered in the New York Times called "Modern Love." It appears to be written by different writers on different topics each week. This week's article was written by Rich Cohen and is a darling account of a man's first foray into parenting. The articles aren't all cutsie and sweet. Last week's article was a woman's account of her inevitable breakup. Anyway, enjoy this fleeting link to this week's article, "How My son Got His Name" or, the root of my procrastination.