Four Novels, the Muffin Man and St. Dalphur

So, I spent several days in bed with the fever and practically devoured my long neglected library, which is actually just a wall of shelves where my Barbie Doll Collection used to be, with scattered books here and there in no particular order. Nanay Ka, our "mayor doma" simply calls it A Big Mess. But much of my salary goes into that Big Mess and when I have a house of my own, hopefully, they would finally rest in a place that could be called a proper library. But that's just wishful thinking for now. A childhood dream I have no heart yet to let go.

My heaven on earth, aside from being wherever Mr. Suplado is, is a good warm bookstore or a quiet library with good "nutritious" paperbacks. Nerdy, I know. I could spend hours at Book Sale or National Bookstore or Power Books just browsing and feeling practically gleeful thereafter. It's like window shopping for me, gliding from shop to shop and forgetting the troubles in the world, if only for a while. It's just that with the Dengue season came the Mass Blood Donation Drives and hospital duties and not to mention my other extra curriculars (*wink-wink*). I never had time to actually sit down and read the books I've bought recently. At the back of my mind I figured in time, they will get the attention they deserve and who would have thought that it would also be the Dengue sickness that would grant me that time.

Haist!

In three days I devoured 4 novels like a thirst I could not quench.

And it's not just about the reading. It's something about the books themselves. I've tried downloading e-books and have them for practical reasons like for textbooks and quick medical references when on duty, but the pleasure of a book, for me, is when you can hold it in your hand and turn the pages and savor the prose at leisure, scribble down my own thoughts in the margins and highlight phrases I like. Becoming a part of the book itself. I remember back in college where I would check out a particularly old book of nursery rhymes all because the last time it came out of the library was in 1983. :)

Anyway, it's an idiosyncrasy. The Muffin Man still loves me for it. He forgives me for my cheap and cheesy romance books because I make up for them with my Stephen King collection, which he likes. He even contributed a couple of Bob Ong novels and a wonderful Paolo Coehlo piece with his own insights scribbled down the margins like a gift.

Day 1 of my fever, I took in The Lady and the Unicorn by Tracy Chevalier about a tapestry and the story behind the ladies in them, and a preteen adventure-fantasy novel called Zahra the Windseeker. Good reads. Almost felt like watching The Never-ending Story all over again.

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, I reread for

posterity. I heard they're making a motion picture with that vampire from Twilight, Miss Legally Blond, and Brittney Spears. We'll see how that would turn out.

And finally, Five Quarters of an Orange by Joanne Harris, author of Chocolat. The heroine of this book is like a french and female version of Tom Sawyer, growing up in the times when Germans were taking over France. Rebellious. Headstrong. Defiant. Daughter of an infamous lady criminal. Not particularly beautiful, but as the sixty year old version of herself said: "Any woman can be beautiful in the eyes of a man who loves her."

And I agree.

The Muffin Man gave me a visit yesterday and, like my library, I was a mess. Nanay Ka said so. With a smirk. She brought us ice cream, which I couldn't eat. I was on a Sky Flakes Forever Diet. Still am, I think. Depending on how my gastric juices are catching up. My hair hasn't been combed for two days. I smelt of Vicks, our Filipino Remedy for almost everything. My duster is the oldest one from my closet, because it's the easiest one to put on with my IV line making any other clothing apparel a tedious task in the morning. And my face looks like an egg could be fried on my forehead. I was ssssooooooo ready for a date, I tell yah!

But he was sweet. In his melancholy way. Something about a training application gone bad. He brought me a tiny jar of St. Dalphur (heheh!) Negra-negra na gid ko guro! hahah! And when he told me to take care and get well soon, he couldn't look me in the eye. HAHAH! Daw highschool PWAMIS!

So I agree.

Any woman can be beautiful in the eyes of a man who loves her. :)

Cheesy buisit.