In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Loves to Travel.

Hi Friends!

It's been a busy week.  I detoured to Orlando for Tuesday/Wednesday (Yes, it was warm, but the sun wasn't really out, and before you get jealous, I was there for about twenty-four hours, going to a convention that took place in my hotel.  Visiting Mickey we were not).

One of the strangest parts of my life (now) is that I do relatively little travelling.  Which is ironic, given the pace of my autumn, but it's true-- in previous lives there was a time I got on a plane for a round-trip about once a month.  Yikes.

So travelling for business now feels natural, like returning to an old friend.  One of the best parts of travelling for me is the opportunity to read my Vanity Fair, cover-to-cover, without feeling like I have something else I should be doing.  I often have this problem (the "shouldn't I be doing something else?" problem) because for the most part I should be reading something to review for this blog (...) or marathoning something (...) or catching up on all of the back eps of Supernatural I have hiding on my hard drive.

Not so, this week.  No book (*sob*), no laptop (*whimper*)... no problem?!  Vanity Fair (or any magazine, I'm sure) is key for plane travel, because no matter what happens they can't take it away from you.  It doesn't have to come out of your bag to go through the x-ray machine, it doesn't have to be turned off and stowed for takeoff/landing, and it will not run out of battery.

What I like about Vanity Fair specifically is that the articles are long, but not too long, and can be parceled out at any stage of the journey; standing in the security line, waiting at the gate, and indeed, after the captain tells the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for landing.

This month, I am particularly enchanted by this article by Michael Lewis, entitled When Irish Eyes Are Crying.  It's not a nice article, it's about the economic fall of Ireland and the idiocy (yes, I am perfectly comfortable with the judgy-mcjudgyness in that statement) of the Irish government following the collapse.  Let's just say to those who are upset by the bailouts: at least our government didn't guarantee every penny lost.  What I really like about this piece is that it is totally comprehensible; for the same reasons I had slight issues with the Vanderbilt biography, I often can't read articles about the economy because I simply cannot follow what-in-the-holy-hell is going on.  The Vanity Fair piece is uncompromising in its analysis, and extremely clear on all points.

It also set me on a warpath to buy property in Dublin.  You know, like a vacation home.  Who's with me?

There's also this most badass piece on Lauren Bacall, a most badass chick.  Perhaps my next in-car book needs to be a Bogie bio.  Hmmm...

Happy Thursday, all.  Be sure and come back soon (Maybe tomorrow, Wendy Pan?  Maybe?) for A Skeptic's Review of The Blades of the Rose.  It's gonna be a good one.