Run, do not walk, to the local library or bookstore and get a copy of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I had heard about the book, but the subject matter didn’t appeal to me so I never checked it out. Ariel did.
Then she forced the book into my hands. I said, “I don’t have time to read this right now.” Ariel’s known me for a long time so she knew what to say, “It’s a treadmill book, Mom.” This got my attention. A “treadmill book” is a book that’s so engrossing that I forget that fact that I’m exercising while I read. (Yes, you read that right. I hate exercising. I’ve been running for over twenty-five years and I still abhor it. But I like what it does—it keeps me strong, healthy, and energetic.)
I took the book from Ariel. And I began to read yesterday, while I ran the treadmill. And then, I had to read while I cooked and while I ate. In fact, I even had to run the treadmill again today so I could read, even though I’d just finished staining the deck and was covered with sticky brown goo. I ran and ran and read and read. When I finally checked the treadmill monitor I’d run a half mile more than normal. And, of course, I just had to finish the book before I showered even though I was now covered in brown goo and sweat.
Are you waiting for a summary of the story? You aren’t getting one. Don’t even read the inside front cover—it’ll spoil a couple of things. Just get the book and read it.
P.S. Day three for Luke. He's so desperate for new foods and flavors that I caught him squirting mustard on his fingers and licking it off. Later, he improved his manners slightly and was eating blue cheese salad dressing with a spoon.