And I Was Enjoying It So Much, Too . . .

Merry Christmas, one and all. It's been a bit on a non-Christmasy Christmas here in Miamuh. Granted, we've had our fair share of non-traditional Christmas celebrations (such as the year we had no tree and instead stacked all of the presents on the giant bean bag chair, to which my mother composed a song to the tune of "Oh Christmas Tree"), but through most of them, it still at least felt like Christmas. But this year, getting into the spirit of things has eluded us for the most part, there being little in the way or decorations, not to mention a dearth of Christmas music. Heck, none of the presents were even wrapped until right before we opened them this morning; mom said she had considered just bringing them in as is and chucking them at us. I chalk a lot of this up to various stresses and worries my folks are dealing with right now, not least of which is the fact that this is the first Christmas since my maternal grandmother passed away, and Christmas was always her favorite holiday: in her prime, my grandmother made sure that no member of her family was wanting for gifts come the 25th of December. Her absence this year, even if it's never remarked upon, can't help but put a damper on things. But, enough maudlin thoughts; this is a time for peace and joy.

I've spent most of the last few days, newly unencumbered of my Primary Obsession, reading voraciously. I read Inside Job by Connie Willis on Friday, In the Ruins by Kate Elliot yesterday, and Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb today; so entranced was I with the Hobb book that I instantly dove into the second volume in the trilogy, Royal Assassin, and was 80 pages in when I reached a part that made me have to take a brief break. For you see, after escaping into a well written fantasy story for over 500 pages, I was suddenly confronted with one of the top of my pet peeves in regards to fiction: the misunderstanding. The "I'm going to jump to a conclusion about you and refuse to listen to any of your explanations and swear that I'm never going to speak to you again" sort of misunderstanding. Oh, and did I mention that it was the sort of misunderstanding that revolves around a girl assuming that a boy she liked was aware of things he couldn't be aware of, and then becoming extremely ticked at him because of it? It's this sort of thing that made the Wheel of Time books extremely painful to me; I'm hoping that this little misunderstanding plot does not last throughout the entire novel (let alone its sequel), as it would definitely derail my "reading is fun!" mood.

And now that I've vented, I shall return to my reading, and probably find that all is made right in the next chapter, thus making me appear highly reactionary.