At the moment, I'm slogging through Proust's Remembrance of Things Past (Swann's Way). You either love it or hate it. Does the word "slogging" give you a clue as to where I fall on that? The famous madeleine (cookie) scene and its instance of involuntary memory lives up to its reputation. Fantastic. But it feels like one fabulous extended observation sandwiched between pages of long sentences clogged with modifiers. Can't wait to finish this and move on to something with an actual plot. I've hit the ten-day mark and I'm only at about the 60 percent mark. Must. Keep. Reading.

Taking the edge off the drudgery: The Olympics! I love the Olympics! Love the snowboarding, cross-country skiing, couples' skating, luge, moguls. Love it all. Plus all the great shots of the Pacific Northwest make me feel like I'm back home. Maybe I'd read faster if I didn't have one eye on the slopes?