I've been reading The Secret of Magic by Deborah Johnson for over a week now, which is much more of an indication of my need to sleep 12-14 hours a day than it is of how much I'm enjoying it. Regardless, I'm determined to finish it today. It's also a positive indication, however, of how well my New Yorker reading is going. I have found that during the week I don't like to start a new book because I'd rather devote my meager awake reading time to it, and I'm right on track with my 2014 goal of reading all issues. I have no idea which book I'll pick up next. I have a giant virtual pile of new releases I'm longing to read, but I also have a big pile of pregnancy and birth histories and memoirs from the library. Perhaps I'll pick one of each and see which one grabs me more.
My film watching kick continues in full force. So far this year, I've watched 25 films (19 of those were for my documentary film class, which ended Friday.) This time of year is such an exciting one for film, with all of the award shows happening. I'm too hesitant to actually go to the theater because I have to go to the bathroom so often (for example, while watching Lee Daniels' The Butler yesterday, I paused the film six times (!) to go to the bathroom. It's only a little over two hours.) I'm planning to watch Fruitvale Station this afternoon after I finish my book.
Tonight is Mr. Nomadreader's company holiday party (in the restaurant business, the thought of closing early one night in December is not an option, so we celebrate in January, a traditionally slower month.) I hope I'm awake enough to go for a little bit this evening. While I can't enjoy the open bar this year, the taco bar sounds amazing. Naturally, we're also expecting another blizzard, due more to 55-50 mph wind and below zero temperatures than massive amounts of snow. I love winter, but this winter is really trying my patience with frequent below zero temperatures.
Is it the second trimester yet? I've had a relatively easy pregnancy in terms of being sick. Although I've been constantly queasy and frequently nauseous, I haven't actually thrown up. But I'm still baffled how few things I typically love sound good to me. It's also weird to have so little appetite and to not find my usual enjoyment in food. I'm also eager to not sleep 12-14 hours a night. I'm in the last stretch of first trimester, so I hope I can move past these symptoms soon (even though I know they'll be replaced by similarly frustrating, if different, symptoms.)
Coming up on the blog this week:
- a review of Valerie Martin's new novel, The Ghost of the Mary Celeste
- a slew of min-film reviews
- a review of The Good House by Ann Leary
- a review of Killer Ambition by Marcia Clark
- a wrap up of January!
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