The Truth Is Often Stranger Than Fiction

So I have done it, I have started the second book in the Twilight 'saga'. Which is anything but a saga. Last time I checked the webster dictionary a saga was a long detailed account or a modern heroic narrative, and guess what, Twilight is neither. But I am starting to think that Stephenie Meyers does black magic. And with that black magic she enchants her books, its the only plausible reason for why it is a best seller. That is the only way I can justify my own fixation.

But back on track, so I started New Moon. And within the first 10 pages I realized how much I hate Bella. She is an idiot. She WANTS to become a Vampire. Really?!? She doesn't care about her birthday, about college, about living, she just cares about Edward biting her. And if I were Edward I would dump her in a millisecond, who wants to be with someone who obsesses about your difference all the time. I just don't get it. So yes, I will hate this book as much as Christina said I would, but I have a feeling it will be for different reasons.

Ah but the wonderful part of today is that I pulled out my first scarf off the season. Aw yes, the lovely pattern of weaving yarn that is swung around my neck to keep me safe from those dredded vampires I read about, and of course to keep me a little warmer. Scarves are my favorite accessory, to think that I once loathed them. Too bad I can't knit them faster to add to my stash.

But I bid you ado. And if someone comes near you who is pale and cold, walk the other way. Unless of course it is me :)