Reading material

The last time I went to give blood, I took Sam along. The Stanford Bloodmobile was a short and heart-healthy walk from home and Sam was curious about his blood type, so I took him with me. It was his first time giving blood, and I was there to tease and heckle encourage and support him. As I served him up to the volunteers, I was positively bursting with sisterly pride.

We filled out our paperwork, and then waited in line for our turn. Sam was lost in his thoughts, so I pulled my Kindle out of my purse and started reading.

"Do you like your Kindle?" Sam asked me.

"I love it. I can read anything, anywhere. AND nobody knows whether I'm reading War and Peace or if it's a trashy romance novel," I answered honestly.

"Are you reading War and Peace?" he asked with a sarcastically arched eyebrow.

"...No."

Normally, Sam would have made some sort of crack about the decline in the quality of my reading material, or if he's on a feministy kick, how romance novels set unrealistic expectations in women and continue to denigrate the cause of female Writers. (Notice the capitalized "W". That's because they're Serious Writers.)

Instead, he chuckled to himself, and shook his head, let me enjoy my romance novel, and enjoyed the sunshine.

And Sam? For the record, I do have War and Peace on the Kindle. I just haven't gotten to it yet. I have some trashy romance novels incredibly important literature to read first.

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