One of the goals my therapist and I have set, as a means of dealing with my chronic tendency to be mean to myself, is for me to schedule time to do things that I enjoy, that I've not been doing.
Pleasure reading is on the short list of such activities. So -- after over a year of not picking up a book just to read for the fun of it -- I am reading an espionage novel: Daniel Silva's Prince of Fire, featuring conflicted Israeli spy/master art restorer Gabriel Allon. Before my mother got sick, we both enjoyed Silva's thrillers; it was nice to once again lose myself for a little while in the suspense.
My other fun book is The Complete Idiot's Guide to Golf. I've just gotten through the first chapter, but it does seem geared to someone of my knowledge level, which is to say hardly any. Now at least I know a birdie from a bogey and a chip from a putt. One of these days I'll actually garner the courage to move from backyard whiffle-ball-smacking to an actual driving range with real golf balls.