Craving Ink and Paper

You know how some women have weird pregnancy cravings like pickles and ice cream? Yeah,  that's never been me. Sure, I want to eat stuff that I can't access in this corner of mid-America (I would kill for a bowl of mie ayam), and I was more than a little upset when I went to the fridge the other day and discovered that the remains of the peanut butter cookie dough had disappeared, but that's just because certain things are common sense. Just like you "don't ever touch a black man's radio", you don't ever steal a pregnant woman's dessert options. And yes, night before last I may or may not have threatened to stab Littles with a fork if he touched my food again, but on the whole, I think I've been fairly normal about what I'm eating. I don't have an odd desire to go eat laundry soap or chalk or anything like that.

However, I am having deep and intense book cravings. I think I mentioned earlier that I've regressed to my thirteen year old self this pregnancy and reread a bunch of fantasy and young adult fiction (last night was the second half of the Prydain Chronicles), but there are a few books right now that I would beg, borrow, or steal if they were anywhere in my line of sight. Let me be more specific, I have had an unearthly and very deep need to reread the Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C. Wrede and an unwholesome fever in my bones to get my hands on Rick Riordan's Mark of Athena.

And let me just say right now, if you live anywhere within a fifty mile radius of me and have any of those books and do not read this blog and immediately drive to my home, book in hand, to lend them to me: you. are. dead. to. me. And I refuse to tell you what the twins' genders are until everyone else already knows and I may possibly withhold baby pictures after they are born.

I'm just being honest.

And I'm aware that none of these books are high literature. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Did you know I could once read and carry on reasonably intelligent conversation about James Joyce and his ilk? No more. Pregnancy brain has sapped me of brain cells and all I want now is pure entertainment and escapism. Especially if I'm capable of concentrating on the plot line while the boys build pillow forts and drive trains up and down my back (which feels incredible, by the way).

Also, if next week, any of these books arrive via post, the gold will have been officially separated from the dross. KIDDING. Mostly?

Just letting you guys know I'm still alive, and of unsound mind and rapidly expanding body.