I have been getting lost a lot, lately. Not driving around, not wandering, but the BEST kind of lost. 

I keep getting lost in a good book.  I have a bad habit of speed reading, especially when things are good.  I can't help myself.  I once traveled through Europe with Kelle, who S A V O R E D her one book she read on our trip.  I can't do that.  I started, finished, started finished, and then traded, and bargained, and picked up strange treatises on life after death from some open air market in Amsterdam because it was the only thing I could find to read in English.  Well, the only thing besides the ad nauseum pamphlets encouraging stupid Americans not to try drugs for the first time in Amsterdam.  But I digress.

Once I start a real good book, I can't stop.  Like a delicious, fruity glass of wine in front of me, it is gone before I know it.  The good news is, that I don't tarry.  I am in, I am out.  I love it, and imagine myself in it, but I am inevitably glad when I finish the book so I know how it ends.  That, and I can get on with my life.  Do a little laundry, love on my family, look out at the real, hard, beautiful sparkly world and maybe, just maybe even participate in it.

Unfortunately, I have 2 problems right now.  I am lost in two worlds, and I despair of finding my way back.

In one world, I am a tough-as-nails, damaged but determined homicide detective married to the super hottest, richest man on planet or off - in the year 2059.  This series is trash.  Pure, unadulterated Nora Roberts as J.D. Robb garbage, and I love it.  I am not even ashamed.  I am constantly thinking of the futuristic world she describes, and imagining the path from today to the development of the technology, the changes in culture in the books. Except that she gets beat up a lot by bad guys, I want to be Eve Dallas.

And then I started the Twilight series to catch up with Andra, and hopefully bypass her to screen the next book before she reads it.  I started it yesterday.  I finished it today. What is it about a good book about being 17, miserable, moody and self absorbed that can rope even the most serious of us in?  Jacki confessed to loving it, but she was embarrassed about it.  I know why she loved it, though.  We all have been 17, so we can't help but slip right back to that place.  Although our heroine is way more self assured and with it than I was (or Jacki was - no offense), we can still feel those feelings, and dream those dreams.  The clumsy thing, though BOTH Jacki and I had down, so yea, it could be us... When I first started reading it, I was kind of annoyed by how simple her writing and descriptions were, but now I think it just makes the writing invisible - so we can all focus on the angst of being 17 and madly in love with a sweet-smelling, blood-thirsty Adonis. Except that I refuse to be 17 again, and I value my neck, who doesn't want to be teh lovely, clumsy object of Edwards affection?

Still can't see why I am concerned with my tendency to get lost in a good book?  Besides the fact that I do still have to clean house and feed people?

The Eve Dallas series has 33 books.  1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 etc. etc. you get the picture.  And I bought them all on e bay.  So they are just right there, next to bed.  Waiting on me.  Luring me in with the next episode, daring me to keep reading.  I am about 14 books in.  That leaves a lot to go.  I make bargains with myself, like "Once I finish this I am taking a break to clean the bedroom", or "After this I will take a break and make a quilt."  But I don't.  You can't clean a bedroom or make a quilt at 9:30 PM, but hey, I could start a new book, right?

I finished Twilight, and am 181 pages into New Moon, plus we bought Eclipse today.  Hello!  When is Edward coming back?

I hope no one gets hungry or dirties a shirt this year.  I have some bad guys to bust, and some vampires to lure out of hiding.