So, my parents and I went to Morehead today -- re: the nearest town to actually shop for anything apart from groceries and lumber. My parents went to Wal-Mart to get presents for me, because (as an only child) Christmas is still about buying as much as possible for me. Er. It's strange, now that I've been introduced to a world where people buy one or two gifts for one another. Stunningly, I have actually gotten things for my parents this year. I bought one of those Samuel Adams holiday packs for dad, as he's wanted one for years, and I'm knitting a scarf for mom.

Anyway, the actual reason I'm posting about all this isn't to discuss my family's odd Christmas habits, but instead to mention books. I hung around the only bookstore in Morehead while they were shopping, and after much painful hemming and hawing bought The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and selections from the Sketch Book by Washington Irving and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I've never read any Austen, and only "Rip Van Winkle" by Irving. I once had an acquaintance tell me my writing reminded her of Irving, so we'll see how that goes. And, as I'm considering specializing in Victorian lit., I thought I should probably get off my ass and read something by Austen. Good forces of the world willing, it'll be more entertaining than Jane Eyre, which I read last winter break.

If I remember correctly, may be "excited" (that is, bemused and vaguely, laissez-faire interested) in the fact that I will read the Austen book. I think she has a thing for Darcy? : )

Books I didn't buy but wanted to: A collection of plays by Wilde, because it had a scratch on the cover; The Adventures of Cavalier and Klay by Chabon, because it was expensive; La Morte d'Arthur, by Malory, because I'm not sure of the quality of the "translation"; The Unauthorized Autobiography of Lemony Snicket, because it was in paperback and I prefer to have it in hardcover; a collection of all Lord Byron's poetry; and a collection of ghost stories by Edith Wharton -- a professor of mine thought it was shameful that I hadn't read any Wharton, but the novels of hers in the store seemed unappealing at best. I had to force myself not to use my debit card, and stick to the choice-limiting cash I had on hand, because I need that money for rent, and possibly vehicle repair.

I did get my parents to pick up a frame for the poster I got -- I e-mailed the agent/wife of the artist who painted the cover of Peter Pan in Scarlet, mentioning how great it was, and asking if any posters were available. She sent me one, for free, as they'd just got some in from the publishers for promotional purposes. I'll get a picture up soon -- the artist personalized it. They're both sweet people, it seems. So, as they lost a promotional poster in the deal, I'll tell all of you, buy a copy of Peter Pan in Scarlet, or at least read it, some way, somehow. It's a really good book.

So, that was my day. My parents are finished wrapping my gifts, apparently, so I guess I can leave my room now.