I had more things I was going to accomplish over the Christmas break. As usual, however, I got distracted. I completely got sucked into a book and whenever I'd wander over to do something productive I'd get sidetracked into reading a chapter or two. Or ten. So all break I've been living in the world of Russia in 1800-1812. I definitely feel like Pierre and Natasha and Prince Andrei and their acquaintances are, maybe not people I'm friends with, but people in my community. And now I've left War and Peace behind, at the beginning of the war of 1812, sitting in my parents' house waiting for me to come home. I've actually read it before but in a more abridged version. Now I'm reading (or was, rather) Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky's translation, which is way better. Ah, Tolstoy. I love Russian authors.

I like skiing too, but now I'm sad because I had to abandon my book on account of it being too fat and I'll be skiing again in Alaska soon, so I'm thinking about Tolstoy, not skiing.