Down and Out of it.

Just finishing my fourth Memorial Day weekend book. I have traveled no farther than between the bedroom and the deck for three straight days. The only time I've been without a book in hand is when the leash was in it. Okay, so I'm depressed, but I've done some good reading. I reached for an old friend - Jack Reacher in Lee Child's new 61 Hours. It was a barn burner and I raced through it. A bus trip halted by a mad winter storm strands Jack in a small South Dakota town in the midst of a good cop/bad cop scenario,a mysterious army installation, bikers and meth, a prison riot, a Mexican sadist and a stalwart old lady trying to do the right thing. An inferno of an ending leaves Jack's fate in doubt.

John Sandford'sStorm Preyfinds Lucas Davenport's surgeon wife Weather on the hit list after she glimpses the face of a killer. The intrigue heats up when another doctor is implicated in the robbery of the hospital pharmacy and death of a brave attendant. Weather meanwhile refuses to take precautions because of her participation in a rare proceedure necessary to separate conjoined twins. Where is Virgil Flowers when a real woman wants him?

Should be finished in the next hour with The Burial Place by Brian Freeman which I started this morning. Obviously a good read, involving a missing baby and a string of grisly murders, interesting cops, bad marriages.

Also finished today the Scent of a Dog by search and rescue trainer Susannah Charleson who adopts her own Golden Retriever puppy to train in the SAR field. Loved the dog relationship insights as well as the details of SAR ops.

Spent some time with The Essential Rumi, poet of love and separation. I'm feeling it. Working my pile down. Not manageable yet, but if I don't leave the house for another month or so, maybe.