You’d have thought, by listening to the intensity in his voice, that the old man was trying to find a decent New York Moving Company willing to transport a grand piano between boroughs, but no, he was merely consulting with the Barnes and Noble info-desk dude about a book he really needed to have. “Can you hold this while I run to the car to get money?” he asked? Of course the answer was yes.

A bit later I approached the desk myself, asking sheepishly, “I need you to look up a title. I know the first four words are ‘On the beach with’ but I don’t remember the rest, and I know you hate it when people do this because I managed a bookstore in college and hated it, too.”

We couldn’t find the book.

It’s from an interview with Julianna Margulies in the December 15th 2007 edition of the American Airlines magazine.

Oh, well.

Hola, everyone. I’m back from Mexico, where I barely had time to read, though I did finish The Tipping Point, by Malcom Gladwell who also wrote Blink, and re-read a good portion of Anne Rivers Siddons’s Outer Banks because a weathered copy was in the casita and I needed something in the bathroom.

Bathroom reading is a thing. If you don’t do it, just nod, smile, and move on. If you do, well, you understand.

Friends, who were in La Paz for the holiday as well, mentioned looking at pens, and I remembered my grandfather once ordering a case of personalized pens with his name and phone number on them. I’m not a fan of ballpoint, being a retractable roller-ball sort of person, but I still have a couple of those pens.

While packing today I’ve been feeling rather like I’m planning an escape, except that all I’m escaping is the winter doldrums, and the not-even-terribly-cold weather that I really can’t complain about. I don’t really travel to escape.

I read to escape. When life feels like one endless treadmill, albeit one without the benefit of granting exercise or physical fitness, I pick up a good book. If I’m cold, I read about somewhere warm, if I’m missing the beach, I read a novel that takes place on the shore.

Sometimes I’ll make the bed with fresh sheets, brew tea, and read for an entire blissful afternoon or evening, coming out of the book mood as refreshed as if I’d been napping – perhaps more so. Other times, I’ll read in fits and snatches only, but always, always, there are words and books and pages.

It’s my favorite form of escapism.

An advertisement for Amazon’s “Kindle” e-book reader has me contemplating e-books again. I go through stages where I almost like the notion of reading via screen, keyboard and fiber cable, but then I come back to my love of printed covers and textured pages, and the fact that even the most expensive e-book reader isn’t designed for use while soaking in a tub.

(Not that conventional books are either, really.)

Somehow, I can never immerse myself into an e-book the way I can with paperbacks or hardcovers. It’s not the physical presence, as there is something to hold in either case. I think it has to do with the way we read computer text, not blinking fully and staring at certain parts of the page, being different from the way we read text on paper.

Or it could just be that I like the smell of paper, and the smell of a book should be associated with that papery scent. Dusty, dry, crisp, ancient, magical paper.

It’s been cold today here in the DFW metroplex, and while our winters are nothing compared to winter in places like Minnesota and Ohio, for us it’s been a brutal day, made worse by wicked wind. I do not usually have a problem with cold weather, so long as I can be home, wrapped in a blanket with a good book, sipping tea.

Today, I was out shopping. Not fun, especially at this time of year.

Where I wanted to be was on a deck chair by the pool at one of those Condo Hotels where you own the space, but there’s still maid service and food service. I’ve visited such places (mainly near La Paz), and they are wonderful. My parents almost bought one, but decided to build instead. That’s fine too.

I have the book.
I have the blanket.
Give me some warm weather, please, so I can get back to the important task of basking.

Could someone tell the local real estate franchise folks that we need to update the shopping in Grand Prairie? I mean, we have a lovely Target in the same shopping center as Home Depot and Starbucks, but it’s really lacking a bookstore.

Oh, I know, there’s a Borders and a Barnes and Nobel just up the road in Arlington, and another Barnes and Nobel in Cedar Hill, but honestly, you should not have to leave your town to browse through shelves of books. Amazon.com is great, but it’s not the same. There is a special kind of romance in browsing through stacks of books, in picking things up because they seem interesting, in feeling the weight of pages.

My summer job during my freshman year of college was in a bookstore/cafe.
I think I never completely left it behind.

We’re off to Baja Sur for Christmas in a week, and while the only resemblance my parents place outside of La Paz has with any piece of Wilmington NC real estate is proximity to the ocean, I’m still in the mood to read a bunch of Anne Rivers Siddons novels before I get there, because her descriptions of the Carolina coastal lifestyle is very much my dream life: small towns, great books, a beach a short walk away, excellent coffee, good friends – these are my version of bliss.

I don’t have TIME to read any beach books just now, though, and once I get there, Christmas will drive all chances of reading away, anyway. But I do have a book sent to me by the author for review that I’m planning to read on the plane, and I’m carting along a bunch of books to leave with my mother and to be given as gifts to the daughters of one of her friends, a woman from India who wants her daughters to read, “English language novels with strong female role models.” I’m bringing them Little Women, Anne of Green Gables and The Secret Garden. I think they’ll enjoy all three.