toast it is because I'm not reading?

Lately I have been reading like I’m travelling. This is strange behaviour.

Interpretation: when I’m not gallivanting across the globe (oh how glamorous that sounds, but no not really, I’m a jetstar lady through and through. It’s actually been quite some time since the my journey involved more than the complimentary water), I’m at home and generally don’t read anything much unless it is 116 pages long and titled Frankie, which only happens on a bi-monthly occasion. It seems my nightly hours are spent with my other half playing a board game and eating dinner. It could also be the fact that, ashamedly, I admit, that my night is surrounded by a gap in time, where all my senses are encapsulated by the reality television show that has taken the kitchen to the lounge room and consequently skyrocketed sales of dishwashing detergent and chef knives in the country. I am a culprit of this obsessive behaviour whereby the world around me ceases activity and the only voices I desire to hear are that of George, Gary and any other show-related stars that may be appearing in the episode. I can’t cook.

Well, I can’t cook like them. Although there is continual aspiration to replicate the Rhubarb and strawberry crostata following a main of Chicken roulades, pistachio butter and capsicum sauce, for tomorrow nights dinner, it seems my parsimonious skills at the supermarket come to the forefront and the ingredient list just looks way too lengthy for me and what? Four dollars for sixty-five grams of pistachios and the formula for this marvellous dessert requires two hundred? And since when did sour cream come in so many different shapes, sizes, versions and textures? Considering all complexities involved, it’s best I just avoid an absolute and downright disaster in that area of the house tonight. Besides, Master Chef begins at 7.30 and if it’s already 5.45…

So this is why I have been reading. I went away for two weeks (yes, Japan was wonderful. Trip was amazing. Aforementioned blog notes will advise you of such events) and I fell completely and utterly in love with a novel. It seems that 8 million readers can’t be wrong and I succumbed to the hearsay that it was a brilliant trilogy. So here I am, halfway through the second book, only pausing for segments that are twice weekly now (thank god, I need to know what happens to Salander and her psychopathic tendencies that have gotten her into serious strife this time). The first book caught me off hand- I was expecting it to be good, but not that good. Totally consumed was I- even through grotesque and horrific parts that would otherwise steer me towards sunshine and lollipops for hope of normalcy and denial that such activities occur in this world.

So for those of you who read while travelling, or read at home because you are not engulfed in a food program where an eight year old can make vegemite on toast tastier than you- I thoroughly put forward a good review for the “Millenium” series by Stieg Larsson, book one being “The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo”.