what am I missing?

I have a hard time feeling like I'm doing nothing. I listen to podcasts while doing the dishes or making dinner, watch shows on the DVR while folding laundry, and never go to Isaac's physical therapy appointments without a book to read. Right now I'm reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, and I'm totally hooked. I started yesterday, and I'm more than 100 pages into it. I feel like I'm finally coming out of the reading funk I've been in, and I'm happy that such a good book is bringing me out (usually I need something trashy to cleanse my palate) and unless I'm actively parenting, I want to be reading that book.

I've gotten to know the office staff at the physical therapy office pretty well (going there for seven or eight months does that, I guess). One of the receptionists is so friendly and cute, and she commented about how much she liked my purse and then went on to chat and chat about purses. Ordinarily, I'd be happy to chat with her, but I really wanted to get back to my book. As soon as I could extricate myself without being totally rude, I started reading again.

Sometimes I wonder how much I miss because my nose is always in a book. Several weeks ago, I had intended to bring the rough draft of an essay I was writing to Isaac's appointment, but I left it in the kitchen on the rush out the door. My only other option was to read Sports Illustrated or an issue of Domino I had already dog-eared to death at home, so I sat and watched Maren play. Another mom was in the office. She was very young and heavily tattooed, with two kids under two vying for her attention. She was also scared-- her pediatrician thought her baby might have a serious heart condition, and she needed someone to talk to. That day, without my book, I was able to listen.

After the St. George marathon last month, I flew home from Vegas on some very turbulent air. I went to the back of the plane to use the restroom and heard the flight attendants ask if there was a doctor on the flight. One of the passengers was having an epileptic seizure, and between the turbulence and the medical emergency, people were feeling tense. I was stranded at the back of the plane and my book was up at the front of the plane. So I sat, nothing to read, and a woman who was in the same aisle as the woman having the seizure came and sat in front of me. A couple of seconds later, she reached behind her seat and grabbed my leg, hard. At first I wanted to pull away, but then I realized that she was terrified. I held her hand until the flight attendants got the situation under control and the turbulence passed.

My love affair with reading isn't going to end any time soon, but these two experiences made me see that sometimes, maybe, there might be some upside to forgetting to pack along my book.

1. great books
2. spirited emails
3. killer spinning classes