Word.

Since I claim in my irresistably charming 'About Me' to be a big reader, I thought I might prove it to you all by sharing from time to time what it is that I'm currently falling asleep to when I go to bed every night.

At the moment, it is none other than The Lord of the Rings. Some of you may wonder why I hadn't already read this monstrosity, while others may wonder if it isn't a few too many elves and goblins for my liking. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a diehard H. Potter fan, but other than that the fantasy world is not one in which I spend much time. Be that as it may, I find myself thoroughly enjoying Frodo and company, and I certainly tip my hat to ol' Tolkien for doing it first.

I figured if I was going to embark on the quest to the land of Mordor where the shadows lie, I'd do it right. This includes a giant, red, 1200-and-some-page edition of the classic and reading about those pesky wraiths by a dying fire at a secluded camping spot in Norway, a black cliff stretching up behind me and a great, still lake curling around the rocks to my side. There could have been wraiths anywhere. Anywhere!

So I was enjoying all the orc-beheading goodness until a wicked combination of jet lag, too much time on the internet, and one very boring page rained all over my hobbit parade. I have been stuck on the same sentence halfway through the second volume for literally 2 weeks. I go to bed every night, settle in with the 10-pound book crushing my intestines, and read this:

The day passed uneasily. They lay deep in the heather and counted out the slow hours, in which there seemed little change; for they were still under the shadows of the Ephel Duath...

And then, like wizard magic, I am unconscious.

I know I must press on, and I will finish this book. But let's just say it could be a good, long while before I am posting about new reading materials.