T minus 48 hours and counting...

It's getting down to the wire, and I'm stressing a bit. The house is mostly clean, the pool is full, the tiki torches are set... and I am so not ready.
I don't know how many people are coming. Not even a ball park figure. I know who's not coming, so that helps a bit. Last year, we fried 2 turkeys and put out an enormous spread, and 6 people showed up.
I don't know how much to buy for this year. My 13th wedding anniversary is a really big deal to me, but I don't expect it to mean much to anyone else.
This is just getting me down. I think I'll go clean some more.

Warning! Those of you who want to know nothing about the latest HP book, stop reading now!



I have already read the Order of the Phoenix, but I forgot, while re-reading it to my son that he's still a child in a lot of ways. I foolishly assumed that since he's worked his way through most of Lemmony Snicket's "A series of unfortunate events" books about the Baudelier children, that he would somehow be ok with what happens in the fifth Harry Potter book.

Ms. Rowling said ages ago that a major character dies in this book. I chose to read it the first time through as though I didn't know this. I figured that way I wouldn't be itching to skip to the end to find out who dies. It worked out pretty well for me, and my gods! Those final 5 chapters were interesting.

Now here's my rant:
J.K. Rowling made my little boy cry. :(
You see, there's a tiny part of my son that still believes in Santa Claus. There's a tiny part of him that believes Hogwarts exists out there somewhere, maybe not in this universe, but somewhere Harry Potter lives and breathes and fights Voldemort. When this "major character" meets it's end, I had to stop reading. I had looked up from the book, and seen the look on L's face, and choked up. He was furious and mystified and hurt. He said, "That's not right. (the person) didn't really die... did (they)?" And I just nodded my head slowly, with tears filling my eyes. He went into his room and locked the door and cried. For about 45 minutes. He came out when I got home from Taco Bell (his favorite food), and gave me several ways that she could bring this character back.
He asked me if I had cried when I read that part, and I lied and said, "yes." I actually didn't cry 'til the next chapter, when Harry was dealing (vividly) with his grief. Having had a recent death in my life, it just hurt way to much. I told him that there are other books I've read that touch me, and have me cry. It's a mark of exceptional story telling.

He was smiling again by the time we finished the book, tho. This one ends with some major justices, and it doesn't leave you hanging like the Goblet of Fire did. That was just evil. Remember when "The Empire Strikes Back" came out? It ended with Luke missing a hand -and knowing who his father is, Han encased in carbonite and the rebellion in tatters. Book 4 was like that for me. Cedric is dead, Voldemort has returned, and the Ministry is stolidly ignoring everything... and we have to wait. Sigh.

I can wait for book 6... for a while, anyway. :)

I just wrote about Independance Day on random redhead, and an interesting thing happened. I've been mostly dwelling on the earlier years, but we moved away during the 4th of July, and I discovered that at some point my neighborhood went from wonderful to Hell. I know (intimately) the details of my growing up, but while I was busy doing it, I didn't notice the attitude shift. It was really shocking when I re-read what I had written, and realized that I did see that street as Hell. I don't think it was the rape, or the fights, or any one thing. It just kind of grew. Each new thing altering my way of seeing my world, until it became a place of darkness.

I don't want to dwell on that too much, I might make it mean something. I wonder, though, if that's how my Mom went from being a walking ray of sunshine, to the embittered woman she became.
When she developed breast cancer, I saw a lot of her old self come back. You can't fight off cancer from a place of bitterness or despair. You have to let life light you up, and she did.

Thanks, Mom, for being who you were in my formative years. Thanks for finding that again so I can still have you around.

I was listening to NPR tonight, and they were talking about same-sex marriages. They had a conservative voicing his opinions, while they took a more liberal side. OK, so here's the thing... I believe in equal rights. I don't see why people in a committed relationship shouldn't have all the benefits (and sucky bits) of marriage. I know there have been points in my life where I'd have been out the door, except I was married. I made a promise, a judge made it legal, and our families witnessed the whole thing. That kinda gives me an incentive to work harder than I otherwise would have.

The conservative guy opined that homosexuals generally don't have committed relationships, as if they are somehow incapable of going long-term. I say bullshit. When have homosexuals been given the opportunity to legally marry? In this country... hmm... never? He also claimed that children need both a male and a female parent. He felt children being raised by only one sex are cheated, and won't be as well equipped for their own relationships. I think I missed out on some things by not having a dad around. I think that had to do with not having much in the way of role models. My mom went to work, and my sister and I were latch key kids. I think if my mom had a partner of any sex it would have made a difference, because then I would have seen how adults in a committed long-term relationship behaved. I would have seen that it's ok to hold hands, or snuggle, or argue. I would have seen what people talk about over dinner. Hell, I would have seen just how good it is to make dinner for your spouse.

I don't have anything against polygamy, either. I think 2 is a good number for raising children, because the more adults you throw into it, the more conflict can arise. But I'm sure there are ways to work it out, if you're really committed to it.

Obviously, the NPR thing brought out my rant-box. I love NPR. Last week they were talking about HGH and short children. I'm 5'4" and my hubby is about 5'7". It kinda bugs me that I could subject our son to HGH injections for a while, and add 3 or more inches to his potential height. Can you imagine the difference 3 inches can make? We're talking better pay, popularity and a larger selection of partners, not to mention the ability to reach the top shelf without a stool.
And I won't do it.

Am I a bad mother for not making my kid get shots for a few years? I'm denying him a better fit in society. Aren't parents supposed to make any sacrifice to give their children the best life possible? I don't believe in tampering like that. Surgery to close a fontanel, absolutely. Trying to make him taller? Absolutely not! Lets see how many inches healthy food, lots of excercise and plenty of love give him. I don't want him to be short, but that's for my comfort, not his.
I love watching him blossom into a teenager, and I don't want to mess with that by pumping him full of something grown in a laboratory. I don't know what the long-term effects are, do you? I think I'll let nature take it's course, and I think he'll be fine.
Besides, my dad was 6'4", so you never know. :)

Wow! Haven't written here for a while.
I finished The Order of the Phoenix. It was, as expected, a fabulous bit of literature. I'm just in awe of J.K. Rowling's writing skills. She rocks!

I got to go shopping with C today, that was lots of fun! I still have a lot of periods of sadness, but I guess that's normal. I found that today, I wanted to ask her one of the stupid -none of your business questions some people had asked me. Thank Gods I didn't. Sometimes I wish those people hadn't asked me the question to which I don't know the answer, because now I wonder about it sometimes.

And here's the thing... it doesn't matter. I don't really care if his organs were donated or not. It is absolutely none of my business, and I'm only posting it here because I talked all around it, and I don't want any of my family who might be reading this to think up other questions to ask.

(sigh) So, riding around with my friend, I look over at her, and see her positively glowing with love for her son. I mean it radiates from her like sunlight, and into my head pops this stupid question. The whole thing bothers me, and I (ew) don't want to look at this:
It bugs me because I'm uncomfortable that I'm using that silly question to make myself wrong. (ew, ew, ew) Say it out loud, and it makes you want to squirm, but now I can look at it and laugh at my silliness.
-yep. more rambling- thrilling, ain't it?