The demands on my time these days are pretty heavy (although I don’t know a single person out there who can’t claim this same sentence as their own). The end of the semester is looming (I just paused in the writing of this blog entry in order to make out a nice, neat to-do list, so that I could see the things left that need to be accomplished), I’m still putting the finishing touches on the packet for our ministerial search (I haven’t talked much about this one on the blog as it’s a confidential process), search commitments are going to take up a large part of the weekend, I have many people to see before I leave for Portland on the 15th of December and I there’s a half-ton of cookie dough in my fridge that needs to be rolled, cut and baked.
I’m seriously considering taking some of the dough back to Portland with me in my luggage. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve checked perishable food. Just a few weeks ago, I neatly packed an entire Thanksgiving dinner (minus the gravy, my mom and I decided that that was asking for trouble) into ziploc bags and tucked it into my suitcase just as I was walking out the door.
But with all these things to do in the next week, the only thing I really feel like doing is settling down on the sofa with a book. I am totally, utterly and completely enthralled by Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay. I picked this one up at the thriftstore several months ago for $.20 (I love places where paperbacks are 6 for $1), and started it back then, but didn’t get sucked in. I don’t understand why not, except that I believe that there are moments in life when a particular book hums, creating an especially lovely chord with the other notes of your existence and it just makes sense to allow that book to become part of your melody for a time. Right now I am vibrating in concert with Joseph Kavalier and Sammy Clay, and to them and Mr. Chabon, I am grateful.