My little chunky monkey!!!

This kid cracks me up. She's so much like her mother but looks just like her daddy; it's a great mix.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

If one is inclined to say so, and one most definitely is, the six hours spent with Harry Potter were the ideal way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I woke up this morning (or rather around noon) in another tizzy: I had to have Harry Potter in my hands before the sunset. I faced the challenge head on by calling Wally World.
“Umm… Harry Potter was supposed to be here yesterday. It did not show up. Thoughts?”
“Well ‘mam, as I’m sure you aware, the demand is high and the order is still processing.”
“Hmmm…. Perhaps you don’t hear me: I don’t have my Potter. I need my Potter.”
“Since the order is still processing you could potentially cancel the order.”
“Score. Let’s do that.”
I cancelled the order, got on my broomstick, and took off to Diagon Alley to find a copy. For the sweet price of $17.99, I had my own Harry. It was about 2pm when we got back to the house. I should mention that I began reading the book on the way back. For once, I praised the many stoplights on Cary Parkway. I read for three hours, took an hour-long break, and then read for the final three hours. I suggest you back slowly away from the blog if you do not want to know any of the book’s secrets.


Minus the neat little, slightly unrealistic, tie-up at the end, this was a fantastic book. It was the sort that I dreaded nearing its conclusion. I want 700 pages more. 7,000 pages more. I simply just want more. But what I do not want, what I hope never happens, is the story of Rose and Scorpius. From my lips to Rowling’s ears – please no “offspring” stories. And with Teddy,while it may be tempting, she has to realize that the story would be useless: the orphaned son of Tonks and Lupin would claim a story much like another orphaned boy.

The one thing that continually surprises me about Rowling’s novels is how for all the wizardry and witchcraft afoot, the bare bones are much simpler, much more real. The Hogwarts series is about family, love, belonging and how the human desire for all three propels our actions.

Consider Hermione, whose love for Ron and Harry constantly have her doing what she knows to be “against the rules.” But look beyond that childhood affection, beyond the happy threesome – in the final installment Hermione puts her parents under a spell so that they forget they have a daughter. She does this for their safety, as she knows that, as her parents, they will be questioned. She also does this to spare them in the event she dies. I realize that this is questionable, is erasing all memory of her really sparing their hearts?, but she’s doing what she thinks is best.

And what of Percy, who comes rushing to be by his family’s side when the battle cries sound? Or Mrs. Weasley who commands the floor when taking on Bellatrix with a “NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” Or even Snape, whose entire adulthood has revolved around keeping Harry Potter safe because of an intense love that he could never have. He risked so much, indeed his very life, for Lily Evans and by bestowing his memories upon Harry he insured his own immortality. Albus Severus, the only son of Harry with Lily’s eyes, has large shoes to fill.

And let’s consider the Dursley’s when they leave, Diddykins in particular. We all know that Harry is insistent that they leave for their safety, but it is so touching when Dudsley wants to know why Harry isn’t coming with him. He doesn’t want Harry to be in danger. It’s a sweet moment.

And the Malfoys -- the things Lucius and Narcissa do and risk for Malfoy. It's love. A twisted kind of love but in their quest for glory, they do not abandon their son. I was quite touched when Narcissa asked the supposedly dead Harry if Draco was alive. I had written the whole family off as a lot of cowards. In telling good ole Voldy that the Boy Who Lived no longer lived, she risked her life just for a the news that her son had not perished in the struggle. It is something we should all strive to remember -- everyone has a mother, or someone, who loves them.

I would love to spend more time on the role of love, family, and belonging and perhaps I shall another day. Now on to the sex. (You got excited for a minute there – thought that there was some hot sex in the novel did you? Maybe you, like me, wondered what color Tonks’ hair turns when she is sleeping with that hot werewolf. My apologies. Nothing so overt. Though, I did fear briefly that Hermione would be raped.) The physicality of sex is also something apparent but not glaring. The way Ginny kisses Harry as she’s never kissed him before. How Hermione launches herself into Ron’s arms with the kiss that has been coming for seven years. The crude remarks Hermione draws on more than one occasion. There is a part, a mere few lines, when Harry is watching Bellatrix, who has a very sexual aura around her. It would appear that she is, or wants to be, all up in good ole Voldy’s pants. (His scream at her death also would suggest that there was a little Dark Arts going on under the sheets but it would also suggest that Voldemort had feelings, which, as we all know, is what separated him from Harry.) But there is a part in the book where Bellatrix is excited and breathing heavily, very aroused, and looking at her heaving chest, Harry is reminded of Ginny. This is not a “look evil in the face and remember why you want to live” kind of moment; it is sexually charged, animalistic, and raw. I liked it, Rowling. I liked it even better that Harry did not know why Ginny would cross his mind at such a moment.


The deaths in this novel are tragic, but it is a war. The two that hit hardest for me were Hedwig and Dobby, especially Dobby. I only hope that they do not write out the scene where Harry insists on digging the grave the “muggle” way when they script the final movie. Fred was quite the surprise as well. I didn’t expect her to halve the hilarious twins who so often appear as just one person. Percy would have been a better choice if you ask me.

In short, the book was good—quite possibly my favorite of the seven. I love Harry Potter even more now. Even more. Curse you, Rowling; I never intended to care.

Sweet 'Arry Pottah

I ordered the book. I'm a card carrying member of the Harry Potter fan club. The book was supposed to be delivered to my door today. I had all intentions of spending my night reading the final installment of my Hogwart's crack. The book DID NOT come. There, I said it -- it IS NOT here. Now I have to wait for Monday. I'll be so out of the loop -- they'll have to take my card back. Curse you, mail system, curse you. If only I weren't a muggle, I'd have my way.

I went online and sought out the true story. I was pleased to see that the spoilers I'd read previously are apparently not true -- Ron does not die. I never realized how impatient I am. Knowing what happens won't ruin the book for me. I will probably cry just as much reading the details of two particular deaths knowing that they are to occur than if it came as a surprise. I won't tell you who or what dies, but I will say I loved that owl...

Don't get all angry -- that happens early on. I'll save the juicy details until after I've actually read the book. I can say that I don't see this being a kid's movie.

Speaking of not being muggle - oh, the things I'd do if I was a witch. I'd be the most brilliant witch ever.

Mama took my eyebrows

A tragic tale of waxing gone awry

I woke up this morning and said “NO” to the sesame street eyebrows that I have abandoned for far too long. Well beyond the tweezing stage, I knew it would require shaping and skill to tame the little face caterpillars. I went to work with a mission. Noon rolled around quickly enough and I headed out to attend to the matter at hand. Did I go to Aveda? Sadly, no. How about Ulta? They do a good job. Again, no. The tightwad in me went to a nail salon. (That was my second mistake; my first was getting out of bed this morning.) I walked in and let the smell of acrylic tickle my nostrils. I went to a darkened room, a rose-colored sheet over the fluorescent light. An unidentified stain brightened the otherwise dull white pillow. The woman whose hands my facial expression would later be in flipped the pillow quickly, a mumbled apology on her lips. The other side had a larger, angry, red stain. She flipped it back with a shrug. Her tiny hands pulled me down. I resisted, it is true, but her insistent urging lulled me into a false sense of security. It is but an eyebrow waxing, not brain surgery, I said to myself. Note to self, never listen to self. She blew the wax in soft quick bursts of air. She seemed nervous, not like the ones I have had before (and oh, there have been many). Quickly, she smeared the sticky substance on my eye, pulling the skin taunt. The strip of fabric, smoothed over quickly by her fingers, and then the most searing pain imaginable. Frantically, I reached for my poor eyebrow, fingers seeking to find even one strand of hair remaining. Sigh. There was, at least, something left above my right eye. She forgot to blow on the wax for the left eye. Silently, I wept. She surveyed her handiwork before going at me with tweezers. My tears made her work difficult and she was forced to wipe the evidence of my pain away, laughing her apology. I fled the room, eyes down, only to be accosted by another woman at the desk. This woman yelled unintelligibly to the woman who had created my new, apparently quite uneven, facial expression. I was forced back into the room where an attempt to make my eyebrows symmetrical failed again. Now, I carry a constant look of surprise, shock, and awe. Eyebrows do grow back, correct?



Kudos to all who caught the Grey’s reference.

Old blue eyes....

My sister and her connections rock. I love photoshop. I see lots of fun in my future when I figure it out!!

"I sing for the animals"

Below is the text of a recent article and a link to the actual article with reader's comments. I have been following this story for a bit now and my anger has not diminished with the "justice" found in this sad little sentence. To be indifferent about a case like this is to be no friend of mine.

Brothers who baked puppy get 10 years

By D.L. BENNETT
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Published on: 02/09/07

The brothers who admitted baking a puppy to death in a gas oven have been sentenced to 10 years in prison and 10 years probation.

Joshua and Justin Moulder were sentenced Friday afternoon to 10 years for burglary and five years for animal cruelty, but the sentences will be served concurrently, not consecutively.


Rich Addicks/Staff
(ENLARGE)
Prosecutor Laura Janssen (foreground) and veterinarian Melinda Merck use a dog for a demonstration during the December trial in Fulton County of two brothers who later pleaded guilty to killing a puppy.

The Moulders, 17 and 19, faced up to 85 years if sentenced to the maximum on all nine charges to which they pleaded guilty to last month.

Prosecutors had offered a plea deal that would have meant a minimum of 10 years of jail time for each of the two young men. Defense lawyers balked. Instead, the Moulders pleaded guilty with no plea agreement hoping that Fulton Superior Court Judge Thelma Wyatt Cummings Moore would not be so harsh, but they received the same sentence.

Thee case has touched a nerve with animal lovers all over the world.

Fulton County judicial officials say they've gotten more than 5,000 cards, letters and e-mails from all over the United States as well as numerous other countries.

Similarly, two online petitions started after the first trial of the Moulders now have about 25,000 signatures with more coming every day. The petitions boast names from Brazil, the Netherlands, Germany, Israel and Australia. Linda Zotter of Syracuse, N.Y., while enduring cancer treatment, took time out to knock on doors and gather signatures for her own personal petition.

"I do believe they should be put away for life," Zotter said. "I would not want them living next to me. I would like to make sure they don't just get a slap on the wrist."

The case has had a life of its own on the Internet, with links from numerous animal advocacy sites to news and public interest sites such as the Drudge Report.

Mark Lisella of Charleston, S.C., found the story on the Drudge Report. He said he was moved to write District Attorney Paul Howard because the dog's treatment was so horrible.

People, he said, have become somewhat desensitized to sensational, grisly murders. But this victim, a tiny puppy, was so purely sympathetic.

"I just thought it was really disgusting," Lisella said.



http://www.ajc.com/metro/content/metro/stories/2007/02/08/0209metpuppy.html


I Sing for the Animals (Teton Sioux)
Out of the earth
I sing for them,
A Horse nation
I sing for them.
Out of the earth
I sing for them,
The animals
I sing for them.

The icky love holiday is almost here...

What do I want for Valentine's Day this year? Flowers at work, sushi for dinner, and an evening viewing of Music & Lyrics.

But if I can't have those, I'll settle for JT's dick in a box...