The lovely and talented JKR has finally released the title of the seventh and final installment of the Harry Potter series. She did so first on her website (with a fun puzzle to figure out first, of course, LOVE HER) and the next day Scholastic issued a press release with the news.
The last book is officially titled:
Harry Potter and His Piercing Green Eyes that Look Directly Into Your Soul
...OH!!
AHEM!!
*Cough Cough*
Excuse me.
I mean it is called:
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
I CAN'T WAIT!! ~giddy with anticipation~
Friday, December 22, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Another Day, Another... Hey Wait, I Don't Get Paid for This!
Saturday morning...
The kitty pulls an entire branch off the Christmas tree and chases the pretty glass ball across the room
Puppy whines to go outside
the strains of Disney lyrics waft across the surround sound speakers
"Life is much better, down where it's wetter..."
I cut my foot on an identified piece of toy as I try to navigate across the living room
The three year old is openly weeping about having to eat all the cereal he poured in his bowl
I think I hear a draft sneaking in and after checking and rechecking the windows three times, realize the five year old is singing something under her breath
"..a whole new world..."
The dad is still asleep as we have newly designed this co-op agreement in which we take turns sleeping in on Saturday and Sunday
The biggest is still asleep because she just went to bed about three hours ago
I hurt my foot again as I twist my knee trying to switch the soundtrack
"The circle of life..."
The kitty pulls an entire branch off the Christmas tree and chases the pretty glass ball across the room
Puppy whines to go outside
the strains of Disney lyrics waft across the surround sound speakers
"Life is much better, down where it's wetter..."
I cut my foot on an identified piece of toy as I try to navigate across the living room
The three year old is openly weeping about having to eat all the cereal he poured in his bowl
I think I hear a draft sneaking in and after checking and rechecking the windows three times, realize the five year old is singing something under her breath
"..a whole new world..."
The dad is still asleep as we have newly designed this co-op agreement in which we take turns sleeping in on Saturday and Sunday
The biggest is still asleep because she just went to bed about three hours ago
I hurt my foot again as I twist my knee trying to switch the soundtrack
"The circle of life..."
Friday, December 08, 2006
When and Why Does the Courtship End?
This is something that has been on my mind a lot lately. At what point do you stop trying to impress each other? Is there something wrong with knowing exactly what the other person is going to say in response to something you say... so you just don't bother saying it?
My husband Steve and I have been together for 10 years. Most of that time has been great; we are very compatible and don't argue much, and he has a dry wit that usually can lighten my very dramatic moods. But like every couple, we have rough spots. And what I like to call "anti-rough" spots - phases where we are not really fighting, per se, but it seems that we are more like roommates than lovers.
I started dating my husband in the devastating aftermath of another relationship that had gone as far south as relationships can go. This is someone I thought I was going to marry and spend the rest of my life with, and I was completely emotionally destroyed when it didn't work out. That's not to say that Steve was a rebound, because the fact of the matter is that the previous relationship had been over for more than a year. I was just still in a very delicate place and had not been dating much. (A twist in the story is that the ex and Steve are very good friends; they grew up together and ran around together throughout most of their teens and 20's. They even have the same birthday. A second twist in the story is that Steve used to date my best friend; the four of us hung around together all the time during this period. A third twist is that we are now all still friends. The fourth twist is that... nah just joking!)
I thought he was exactly the balm for my sore heart; the ex was one of those overly funny and vivacious charmers who always knew exactly what to say to people to make them feel good and laugh. People love having him around... especially female people. I'm sure you can guess what led to my broken heart. Beyond that, though, it seemed that the ex and I had *too much* in common and our fiery personalities would lead to some of the most dramatic fights ever. There was a certain degree of psychological manipulation that he was successful at, as well. There were times when I was so screwed up in the head that I actually thought I deserved to be treated as crappy I was being treated. Like the old Offspring song says (which incidentally was seeing a lot of radio play at the time of this relationship); "the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care".
Anyway, the man who was to become my husband is the polar opposite; he's very practical and down to earth, a much more quiet personality and doesn't call too much attention to himself. He's really funny as well; he just has more of a dry humor that is a little more intelligent and less showy. He is also extremely reticent in showing his feelings. For example, we had been together for over a year when he finally told me he loved me. What's more, it was only in response to my question, "do you love me? Why don't you tell me? Say it!"
We dated for a year and a half before we moved in together. The only reason I got him to move in together was because I broke up with him and started dating someone else. I'd like to say he started missing me but the opposite was true... and we made up and made this decision.
Then we lived together for four years before I got pregnant. At this point I knew that this arrangement was permanent. The entire pregnancy, I kept thinking he was going to propose. I thought he would propose at Christmas.. no. Lindsay was born in March, so I thought he would propose on my birthday in April.. no. Finally I said, "You know what we should do? We should just get married."
At the time I really didn't care that he didn't actually propose because I was getting what I wanted. Now, however, it bothers me more and more. Of course he *says* that he was going to propose, he was just a little nervous about it. About proposing to someone that he's been sharing closet space with for five years. hmmm.
Anyway, these days it seems that the things that were originally great about Steve are now the things that cause me heartache. But why? Why am I so selfish? He never was a sweet talker, so why should I expect him to be one now? He was never the romantic type, so why would he be now? Not that there is really anything *wrong* or even unlikable about him - he's reliable, successful, still cute and he's a FANTASTIC daddy. He even does dishes and cooks. But my personality really craves drama and passion... and I'm not sure he even finds me attractive.
Anyway, this post has gone on much longer and become much more maudlin than my original intent. I meant to simply question when and where the "fire"goes out and why it seems to continue burning for some couples and not others. I always thought that when I did tie the knot, it would be one of those Great Loves... Bogie and Bacall, John and Yoko type stuff.
So why does the courtship have to end? Wouldn't you think that since that person has become the most important thing in your life.. you should spend all your waking energy trying to impress that person? After all, you had a legal ceremony telling the world how they were your very favorite person out of all the people you've ever met. Shouldn't there be an expectation of flirting, affection and - yes, I dare say it - passion?
My husband Steve and I have been together for 10 years. Most of that time has been great; we are very compatible and don't argue much, and he has a dry wit that usually can lighten my very dramatic moods. But like every couple, we have rough spots. And what I like to call "anti-rough" spots - phases where we are not really fighting, per se, but it seems that we are more like roommates than lovers.
I started dating my husband in the devastating aftermath of another relationship that had gone as far south as relationships can go. This is someone I thought I was going to marry and spend the rest of my life with, and I was completely emotionally destroyed when it didn't work out. That's not to say that Steve was a rebound, because the fact of the matter is that the previous relationship had been over for more than a year. I was just still in a very delicate place and had not been dating much. (A twist in the story is that the ex and Steve are very good friends; they grew up together and ran around together throughout most of their teens and 20's. They even have the same birthday. A second twist in the story is that Steve used to date my best friend; the four of us hung around together all the time during this period. A third twist is that we are now all still friends. The fourth twist is that... nah just joking!)
I thought he was exactly the balm for my sore heart; the ex was one of those overly funny and vivacious charmers who always knew exactly what to say to people to make them feel good and laugh. People love having him around... especially female people. I'm sure you can guess what led to my broken heart. Beyond that, though, it seemed that the ex and I had *too much* in common and our fiery personalities would lead to some of the most dramatic fights ever. There was a certain degree of psychological manipulation that he was successful at, as well. There were times when I was so screwed up in the head that I actually thought I deserved to be treated as crappy I was being treated. Like the old Offspring song says (which incidentally was seeing a lot of radio play at the time of this relationship); "the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care".
Anyway, the man who was to become my husband is the polar opposite; he's very practical and down to earth, a much more quiet personality and doesn't call too much attention to himself. He's really funny as well; he just has more of a dry humor that is a little more intelligent and less showy. He is also extremely reticent in showing his feelings. For example, we had been together for over a year when he finally told me he loved me. What's more, it was only in response to my question, "do you love me? Why don't you tell me? Say it!"
We dated for a year and a half before we moved in together. The only reason I got him to move in together was because I broke up with him and started dating someone else. I'd like to say he started missing me but the opposite was true... and we made up and made this decision.
Then we lived together for four years before I got pregnant. At this point I knew that this arrangement was permanent. The entire pregnancy, I kept thinking he was going to propose. I thought he would propose at Christmas.. no. Lindsay was born in March, so I thought he would propose on my birthday in April.. no. Finally I said, "You know what we should do? We should just get married."
At the time I really didn't care that he didn't actually propose because I was getting what I wanted. Now, however, it bothers me more and more. Of course he *says* that he was going to propose, he was just a little nervous about it. About proposing to someone that he's been sharing closet space with for five years. hmmm.
Anyway, these days it seems that the things that were originally great about Steve are now the things that cause me heartache. But why? Why am I so selfish? He never was a sweet talker, so why should I expect him to be one now? He was never the romantic type, so why would he be now? Not that there is really anything *wrong* or even unlikable about him - he's reliable, successful, still cute and he's a FANTASTIC daddy. He even does dishes and cooks. But my personality really craves drama and passion... and I'm not sure he even finds me attractive.
Anyway, this post has gone on much longer and become much more maudlin than my original intent. I meant to simply question when and where the "fire"goes out and why it seems to continue burning for some couples and not others. I always thought that when I did tie the knot, it would be one of those Great Loves... Bogie and Bacall, John and Yoko type stuff.
So why does the courtship have to end? Wouldn't you think that since that person has become the most important thing in your life.. you should spend all your waking energy trying to impress that person? After all, you had a legal ceremony telling the world how they were your very favorite person out of all the people you've ever met. Shouldn't there be an expectation of flirting, affection and - yes, I dare say it - passion?
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Insurance Only Pays Half
So last Tuesday I spent two and a half hours being held down in a chair by a couple wearing masks and latex. They had me at their mercy and told me to do things like "open wide", "wider", "now bite down", and "clench" while brandishing an astonishing collection of scary metal instruments. Then at the end of the session they charged me $300.00.
I walked out of there sweating and numb and frankly, I'll never be the same. Apparently I liked it, though, because I made an appointment to be back in two weeks for another session. They're nice people, though, despite the fact that they chose to take up dentistry as a living.
The problem with dentists is that most people only go when they have a problem. And then the visit is exponentially worse than it would have been if you'd gone regularly. I have three kids and I hadn't taken myself to the dentist since my oldest was a baby - 14 years ago. At that time I had had a crown started; they put a temporary one in and I was supposed to return in two weeks to get a porcelain one put in. Of course, at that time I literally didn't have two nickels to rub together, and of course I had no insurance, and of course my ex more than likely missed one or multiple child support payments, so the plan was shot to hell and I never had the chance to go back for the good crown.
Fast forward 14 years, I get married, buy a house, have two more kids, and now my oldest has an immensely expensive amount of orthodonture going on in her mouth, so during all that time my personal dentistry issues got pushed to the side. So for 14 years, I'd been carrying around in my mouth a temporary silver crown meant to last two weeks.
About a month ago, said crown started to really bother me whenever I ate chocolate, and we know that THAT SHIT WON'T FLY. Snickers are right up there with air and water for me, so I decided to just make the move and take myself to the chair to put myself out of my misery.
My first visit was actually all right... the dentist had nothing but glowing compliments about the state of my teeth. He said that people who haven't been in for five years have worse buildup than I did (did I mention that it had been 14 years?) and it was all due to my exemplary home care.
Now, I don't wanna brag (too much), but I am rather anal about my teeth. (Never ever thought I'd write the words "anal" and "teeth" in the same sentence, but I digress.) It drives me nuts when I have stuff stuck in them and I really truly do floss at least three times a week. As Dooce says, it's not cleanliness, it's suffering from mental illness (sorry, another digression). I had a friend in college that was studying to be a dental hygienist and she once told me that you could not ever brush your teeth and just floss and your teeth would be in better shape than if you brushed three times a day and never flossed. (Though you probably would have a ton of cack on your tongue...)
So where was I? Oh yes. Well, people in my family have pretty good teeth... my dad at 60 still looks like a toothpaste commercial. So I was feeling good about the fact that even though I usually don't know what the hell my kids are thinking when they do those things, or how to deal with a 15 year old girl that is nothing like me at that age, or why the hell my husband is so OBVIOUSLY from Mars when I am so OBVIOUSLY from Venus (would it KILL him to say "you look PRETTY" instead of "you look fine"?! Though obviously a "hot babe" wouldn't hurt...), and I usually have no idea what's going on at work... well, dammit, all those things are just gonna have to take a back seat to the fact that I will have all my own teeth when I'm a senior citizen.
Despite their health, I did have a minor issue with an extra incisor in my mouth. This guy was really, truly extra, and I'd had it in my mouth since my permanent teeth grew in. I was supposed to get braces on the bottom, but again, there was that pesky issue with the money and insurance... anyway I never got braces and I walked around with an extra tooth crowding out the teeth that belonged. So at my first visit Dr. Dentist pulled that tooth.
Which I thought was no big deal.... but OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU EVER HAD A PERFECTLY HEALTHY TOOTH PULLED? OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. There was not enough local anesthetic in that office to dull the pain and let's face it: I've had three kids - I AM NOT A WIMP. I have a perfectly normal perspective on pain, and in fact I'm one of those people that are not afraid of shots because, really, they don't hurt. If anything, I'd say I have a higher threshold for pain than most folks.
So after that, Dr. Dentist gave me a prescription for Vicodin, which was supposed to last for two weeks. I'm not ashamed to tell you that it was gone in three days. But of course some of that might have been my predisposition towards that funny, relaxed, light headed and euphoric feeling that can only be found through the use of prescription painkillers... When my last baby was born, the OB-GYN gave me Percoset... and let me tell you, if there is anything better than having sex while eating chocolate, drinking vodka martinis and getting a pedicure and scalp massage at the same time... its Percoset. Especially if you wash it down with a couple vodka tonics. Which really explains why I stopped breastfeeding my son at three weeks when I had nursed his sisters until they were six months old.
So I digressed again. Now that you think I'm Elvis in the 70's, I'll go back to the dentist story. Had the tooth pulled, it was pain in a form you can't imagine in this life, and then I had to make an appointment to commence the work on the crown. That is where I am right now. They took the old temporary off, fixed up the poor nub of a tooth underneath, fitted a fresh stainless steel temporary one and took molds for a really real porcelain crown, which I'll have put on in about two weeks. No more problems. ~crossing fingers~
I walked out of there sweating and numb and frankly, I'll never be the same. Apparently I liked it, though, because I made an appointment to be back in two weeks for another session. They're nice people, though, despite the fact that they chose to take up dentistry as a living.
The problem with dentists is that most people only go when they have a problem. And then the visit is exponentially worse than it would have been if you'd gone regularly. I have three kids and I hadn't taken myself to the dentist since my oldest was a baby - 14 years ago. At that time I had had a crown started; they put a temporary one in and I was supposed to return in two weeks to get a porcelain one put in. Of course, at that time I literally didn't have two nickels to rub together, and of course I had no insurance, and of course my ex more than likely missed one or multiple child support payments, so the plan was shot to hell and I never had the chance to go back for the good crown.
Fast forward 14 years, I get married, buy a house, have two more kids, and now my oldest has an immensely expensive amount of orthodonture going on in her mouth, so during all that time my personal dentistry issues got pushed to the side. So for 14 years, I'd been carrying around in my mouth a temporary silver crown meant to last two weeks.
About a month ago, said crown started to really bother me whenever I ate chocolate, and we know that THAT SHIT WON'T FLY. Snickers are right up there with air and water for me, so I decided to just make the move and take myself to the chair to put myself out of my misery.
My first visit was actually all right... the dentist had nothing but glowing compliments about the state of my teeth. He said that people who haven't been in for five years have worse buildup than I did (did I mention that it had been 14 years?) and it was all due to my exemplary home care.
Now, I don't wanna brag (too much), but I am rather anal about my teeth. (Never ever thought I'd write the words "anal" and "teeth" in the same sentence, but I digress.) It drives me nuts when I have stuff stuck in them and I really truly do floss at least three times a week. As Dooce says, it's not cleanliness, it's suffering from mental illness (sorry, another digression). I had a friend in college that was studying to be a dental hygienist and she once told me that you could not ever brush your teeth and just floss and your teeth would be in better shape than if you brushed three times a day and never flossed. (Though you probably would have a ton of cack on your tongue...)
So where was I? Oh yes. Well, people in my family have pretty good teeth... my dad at 60 still looks like a toothpaste commercial. So I was feeling good about the fact that even though I usually don't know what the hell my kids are thinking when they do those things, or how to deal with a 15 year old girl that is nothing like me at that age, or why the hell my husband is so OBVIOUSLY from Mars when I am so OBVIOUSLY from Venus (would it KILL him to say "you look PRETTY" instead of "you look fine"?! Though obviously a "hot babe" wouldn't hurt...), and I usually have no idea what's going on at work... well, dammit, all those things are just gonna have to take a back seat to the fact that I will have all my own teeth when I'm a senior citizen.
Despite their health, I did have a minor issue with an extra incisor in my mouth. This guy was really, truly extra, and I'd had it in my mouth since my permanent teeth grew in. I was supposed to get braces on the bottom, but again, there was that pesky issue with the money and insurance... anyway I never got braces and I walked around with an extra tooth crowding out the teeth that belonged. So at my first visit Dr. Dentist pulled that tooth.
Which I thought was no big deal.... but OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU EVER HAD A PERFECTLY HEALTHY TOOTH PULLED? OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. There was not enough local anesthetic in that office to dull the pain and let's face it: I've had three kids - I AM NOT A WIMP. I have a perfectly normal perspective on pain, and in fact I'm one of those people that are not afraid of shots because, really, they don't hurt. If anything, I'd say I have a higher threshold for pain than most folks.
So after that, Dr. Dentist gave me a prescription for Vicodin, which was supposed to last for two weeks. I'm not ashamed to tell you that it was gone in three days. But of course some of that might have been my predisposition towards that funny, relaxed, light headed and euphoric feeling that can only be found through the use of prescription painkillers... When my last baby was born, the OB-GYN gave me Percoset... and let me tell you, if there is anything better than having sex while eating chocolate, drinking vodka martinis and getting a pedicure and scalp massage at the same time... its Percoset. Especially if you wash it down with a couple vodka tonics. Which really explains why I stopped breastfeeding my son at three weeks when I had nursed his sisters until they were six months old.
So I digressed again. Now that you think I'm Elvis in the 70's, I'll go back to the dentist story. Had the tooth pulled, it was pain in a form you can't imagine in this life, and then I had to make an appointment to commence the work on the crown. That is where I am right now. They took the old temporary off, fixed up the poor nub of a tooth underneath, fitted a fresh stainless steel temporary one and took molds for a really real porcelain crown, which I'll have put on in about two weeks. No more problems. ~crossing fingers~
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Overheard
"I'm having a horrible day."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Quack!"
"Did you just quack at me?"
"Yes, yes I did."
"..."
"Did it echo?"
"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Quack!"
"Did you just quack at me?"
"Yes, yes I did."
"..."
"Did it echo?"
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