I'm doing really well after the minor surgery I had Monday. I'm walking Sophie, working at my desk, back to the routine with the exception of an afternoon nap that I can't seem to live without.

Oddly enough, the past week or more has seen me in a reading slump. I can't explain it, I don't know why, but I just haven't felt like reading fiction. Nothing entices me. I've been watching television in the evenings and have been studying a few cookbooks, but that's it. I'm completely baffled.

It's been eons, but I think that I've been in this state before. As I recall, I've picked up a thriller or a mystery to break the impasse. I ordered Oblivion by Peter Abrahams from the library, and I've just got to get myself there to pick it up. Abrahams is in the Boston area at the moment, promoting the first book in his new YA mystery series Down the Rabbit Hole. Even though he's an admirer of Stephen King (whose writing I can't stomach), I've been reeled in by critics who claim Abrahams writes beautifully.