Toying with the Idea of Moving Again (I Know)

I know, I know, it sucks. It smells of the ridiculous. It's costly. It's a pain in the ass. And each subsequent move gets more and more difficult for me to find a decent, happy job.

Oh yeah, and I'm not getting any younger.

I'm still dying, longing, hoping to return to New Zealand, but it seems to be becoming more and more of a distant dream. It just costs so much, and getting a job like Beau had the first time is not likely (or really, desirable). We continue to get the job notices a few times a week, but nothing that promising has popped up.

I was looking at my resume the other day, updating it for more job applications, when I noticed that since Thailand, it kind of looks like my "career" has slowly gone downhill. I went from being director of a school, pretty impressive (though truly less impressive than it sounds), to a grants manager of millions in international aid (still sounds cool, but still less impressive than it sounds), then followed by various low to mid-level administrative jobs, and finally to my current situation of administrative temp/retail chump. It was pretty depressing. And a bit of a slap in the face.

Beau and I are pretty much of the same mind -- we still really do want Missoula to be a success. We just want both of us to have decent, full-time work that is steady (and health insurance would be nice!). We keep plugging away at it. We have our bouts of depression and despair, then we pick ourselves up, grit our teeth, and at least pretend we're happy and upbeat and looking on the bright side. I know that sometimes even when you pretend, you kind of fake yourself into believing it. Sometimes. But the reality is that we're not much farther than when we first got here. We're simply treading water.

And as each month drags on, it gets harder to be optimistic. The school year is approaching, and Beau has resigned himself that no High School Biology teacher job is going to open up within a 100 mile radius after all, and he'll have to return to substitute teaching. Fun.

My current temp job at the university was extended for another month (for the second time), which is good, but again, bad, since it means continued temp work. I know that when it goes permanent in early September, I will most likely get the job, but although it would be nice to have a permanent full-time job, the reality is that this job is so much less than I should be doing. And the pay is pretty sad. I see so many positions at the university I long to do. They are mid-level and usually connected to advising and involve more interaction with students, more decision-making, more responsibility, etc. One of my bosses here keeps telling me I really need to be doing something where I am using my "skills and talents more fully." Trust me, I agree! I keep applying for other things, but my hopes are not what they once were. Usually, if I could at least get to the interview stage, I usually got the job. That no longer seems to be the case, since I've had three interviews at the university in the past couple months that have resulted in nada. Zip. Loser-zero! Oh yeah, and Shop-n-Smile is becoming more and more unbearable. My new boss is most likely bi-polar, and with people quitting left and right, I often find myself doing the work of two people in half the time. I hate it there.

So, although half of me is still chugging along, looking for work, sending out cover letters, half of me is just thinking, "GO where the work is!" It just gets to the point where you want to be some place where you can have a good, decent job, no matter where that is (something I would not have agreed to before, since where I live is so important to me).

It feels like somewhat lowering of standards, giving up one what you believe in, but then it also feels like just being goddamn pragmatic and wanting not just to survive, but to thrive. For the past several years, I've really wanted to live somewhere with great natural beauty - part of the big draw to New Zealand - but I also considered other places like Maine, Montana, and North Carolina when I was thinking about this. Now, that kind of thinking seems like a luxury.

This brings me to Missouri. The whys are a few, and some personal. There is family there that Beau has missed tremendously, apparently more than I ever realized, which has affected his happiness. I have never had those kinds of ties to family, and so it is hard for me to relate (and what makes my traipsing around the world easier than it is for others). Overall, I liked Missouri. 1) It was gorgeous in the Spring, with dozens of different species of birds flittering around, rivers all over the place, and nice green grass. 2) It was very cheap - we lived in a 2-bedroom house with a huge backyard for a little over $400/month. 3) Location-wise, it's right smack in the middle of the U.S., making visiting friends and relatives a lot more realistic than it is Montana (including the accessible Kansas City airport which has nice-n-cheap Midwest Airlines flights!).

What I did NOT like about Missouri was: 1) Living in a tiny town with a bunch of extreme right-wing, fucking stupid, often prejudiced people, who often declared that the fact that I "had all my teeth" was a sure-sign that I "was not from there." 1B) ...which also included living 30 miles from anything resembling a city (or a job that didn't involve me working a literal roadhouse). 2) The summer's were hot. Real hot. Like melt your eyebrows off your face, hot. But I guess extreme climates are what I am destined for. And 3) the "antics" of Beau's ex-wife who is as mean as a wounded wolverine and just about as cuddly.

Returning to Missouri would mean 1) Moving to at least a mid-sized city like Columbia or Springfield, and NOT moving back to some small town that offers no job prospects. This will also eliminate surprise visits from said ex-wife, though I'm sure she'll still be within road rage driving range. I'll install live traps around the perimeter of our house 2) Can't do much about the summer 'cept buy an air conditioner. 3) See #1.

We've both been to Columbia and Springfield, both towns that I liked very much (the former more than the latter). They have the #1 and #2 biggest universities in the state as well, and I've already been checking them out. Last week I applied for a job that really got my juices flowing in one of their international programs departments, which has me all excited, despite the fact that being out of state might make my chances a bit less likely.

But again, this is something to be realistic about. Though Missouri has a much bigger population and tons more "smaller towns" surrounding Columbia and Springfield to teach in, will Beau still be able to get one of those positions? The school year is going to start soon and there might not be anything left (we're looking). There's no use packing up and moving to Missouri if we're going to be stuck in the same boat we're in here (a damn leaky one). So, for now, it's just something that we're keeping our options open for. If we could both get jobs, then there would be no question of moving there, but this continuous fractured career thing is getting a bit tiresome. No use trading one bullshit state for another.

It's just something we're toying with....I'm just saying!

In Case You Were Wondering..

Just in case you didn't get enough Harry Potter (and its still swirling around in my head, constantly)... And in case you were wondering how the characters really ended up (I really wanted to know what their jobs would be, personally. The kids things is kinda ho hum). You can read a little bit of that in an interview with J.K. Rowling here where she fleshes it all out. I love how she envisioned sweet Luna to be.

Again, the article contains SPOILERS, so be warned.

Finished, Phew! -=SPOILERS=-

It took me four days (seemingly three days longer than the rest of the universe), but during every lunch hour, every 15 minute break, and the tiny bit of time while blowdrying my hair or 'hanging out' in the bathroom, I read...and read....and read.

As predicted, I'm full of overwhelming emotions, strong opinions, and a general sense of contentment. The book was wonderful (with a few things I'd like to scream about), and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Some more thoughts are below. But only go there if you're prepared for spoilers. You've been warned.

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On Harry Potter and the Death Hallows (A+)

Overall, I loved the book, and the last four days have been very happy, exciting, touching, and sometimes, anxiety-ridden ones for me. I'm sure I made good use of my high blood pressure medication. And as I said to a friend, work was only something I had to do in between opportunities to read the book.

I thought it was beautifully written, and I agree that J.K. Rowling has definitely matured and improved her writing style since the first book, though I still think every book is a pure classic (and came to love Book 6 much more after the second reading - the first time I found it disappointing - simply serving as a bridge to Book 7).

I'd like to give a big fat shout out to her also for her action scenes, particularly those of Harry's repeated just-barely-escapes from the various "bad guys," of which there were MANY. I found all of these to be well-written, exciting, and easy to conceptualize in bright, magnificent colors. They were downright fun to read and had me panting and gasping with every line. Bravo!

My biggest gob of praise though goes out to the author for her use, to use a term we all learned in high school, of making the majority of the main characters, so incredibly ROUND. No one, particularly Dumbledore, the almost saint-like figure from past books, has clean hands. This is, after all, a war, and everyone has a past which they all seek to hide while simultaneously enduring personal guilt and remorse like prison sentences. Nearly every loveable "good guy" in the book has a moment when s/he is completely unadmirable, unreliable, or just an outright asshole. Dumbledore, Lupin, Harry, Ron, James and Lilly Potter, Sirius, Xeno Lovegood, etc. all are "good" people who have their moments of darkness, for their own reasons (justify them if you will). It made the book, and the characters, so much more real to me, and signifies the "maturity" I mentioned earlier. These are all people, good people, but people nonetheless, who live moments of shame and weakness - who are not perfect. The good guys aren't dressed in white with unflappable moral fiber - they are humans who succumb to temptation, and also, have great triumphs.

Continuing on with that, others are redeemed, some more so. Snape is nearly canonized by the end, just when I was beginning to finally doubt my own innate belief in his hidden "goodness," and made all the more sympathetic for his agonizing unrequited love for the beautiful, willful, but truly kind, Lilly Evans. I admit having NO CLUE that the Patronus that appeared to Harry's was Snape's. (Whom I almost want to call Severus now in respect). Additionally, Draco and his parents find some redemption, showing that in the end, even for them, love is thicker than power. Shit, even fucking Kreacher turns out to be a hero, with his own heart-wrenching past and feelings of guilt and loss!

The book is a god damn bloodbath, but the reality is, it's war. And war is full of death and grief. Heroes and villains. And everyone has their own agenda. It is no different here. Kinda still wish she hadn't killed off Dobby. And can you imagine the rest of George's life?? You could write an entire book on that itself. That's going to be one fucked-up ex-twin.

And wasn't Neville just fucking awesome?

Now to the criticism. My biggest complaint: I hated the epilogue. I think Rowling could have simply ended the book as it was, with Harry going off to bed. We could have easily imagined how things would have ended up in the future -- we all pretty much knew, didn't we? Reading the "Nineteen Years Later," it was almost as if it was written by another person. The entire book was dark, exciting, and VERY adult - no longer a children's book in my opinion, in the American/English sense anyway. There's even a Mrs. Weasley screaming out the word "BITCH!" in all caps! And then you read this epilogue which is all sunny and perfect and so very bland. Yuck. I think it was an unnecessary and unpalatable way to end the book, like a long-running TV series that tries to happily tie up all loose ends (like Friends and Charmed did when they ended).

As for the what many other readers had problems with - the role of women in the book - particularly the dismissal of Ginny at the end, I agree. I could go on about it, but others have done it much better (see Fuschia here to read hers - excellent). I thought it silly that by being 16 instead of 17, Ginny was unable to decide for herself whether she could fight, and instead, is relegated to the sidelines for protection (and as I commented off of Fuschia's "womb" remark, to protect Harry's future progeny).

And lastly, my beloved Lupin and Tonks. *sigh* How I looked forward to this book, in a big part because I KNEW that Lupin would be featured prominently. I just assumed that since I know he's sort of the underground favorite of die-hard fans and figured Rowling would not ignore that in the end. So Lupin and Tonks get married, okay, nice, I didn't need for the book to explore that, though it was perfunctory. And then he knocks her up and freaks out because he might have a wolf baby. Ugly, but understandable. But what was so utterly disappointing (besides Tonks limited appearances), is that unlike what Rowling does so beautifully in the rest of the book - fleshing out the characters into real human beings with all their complexities - is mysteriously neglected here. You somehow leave the book feeling that Lupin and Tonks were not granted that privilege. It's not like the movies where you have to worry about it being "too long" and editing out bits that would explain such things. This is one of her shorter books, and I've never heard a single soul complain about the length of a single volume, despite their undeniable girth.

I think she could have added another 25 pages in order to do these two adored characters justice. There's a deep feeling of dissatisfaction there for me, though I'm having trouble articulating it well. Tonks, who as I've said, always was more deeply devoted to Lupin than he to her, joins him, despite an infant at home, for the final battle. The next thing you are notified about are their dead bodies on the ground. Waaah? Even Professor McGonagall (who kicks ass in this book) has more "screen time" as a defiant teacher and a valiant fighter (including the fantastic image of her running down the hallway leading a dashing charge of school desks in attack). In the end, all you can say is, "oh well."

Yet, despite the bitchings of above, I adored this book and relished every page. It was a delight to read and worth the wait. How wonderful it will be to see this book come to life on the screen, hopefully in much the same way as OotP which I thought was very well-done. Only about a three years wait, eh?

The Misadventures of J. and Beau: Wedding Ring Retrieval

Yes, we went back to the river in hopes of retrieving the ring.

We were leaving our apartment when our really nice neighbor Neal offered to let us borrow his own fishing net. "Wow, great!" I said imagining something in the way of the elusive butterfly net I had been unable to acquire. When he emerged, I tried desperately to keep a straight face, as he handed over one of those tiny little nets you use to capture your goldfish in a 10 gallon fish tank. "Erm," said Beau. Yeah, I'm sure that'll be JUST GREAT against the current of a major river. Thanks bunches! Nevertheless, we accepted it gratefully and continued on. Beau went out to our storage unit to retrieve our two massive inner tubes, only to find that one of them (his) exploded impressively, leaving behind a waste of rubber. We went back to the sports store we bought the tubes at -- I went to a different part of the store to check out their nets, while Beau went to buy a new inner tube.

When I returned, sans new net, Beau pointed to a small inner tube leaning up against the counter. "That's yours," he said. My brow furrowed. "It looks kinda small," I said. "You said you wanted a smaller one, he said, "that the last one was too big."

This was true. My original tube was so large, that it was hard to just relax in it since the hole was bigger than the crux of my shoulders and knees. Shrugging, but still unsure, I picked up the tube and started walking toward the car. "Remember the woman who looked like she was drowning her inner tube? That's going to be me," I said. The previous week we had seen a woman who had been precariously teetering atop a tube that was just barely peeking above the water. She was not a small woman, but it was not a large tube either. The effect had been rather comical.

We reached the water and headed out. It was early morning since I had to work at Shop-n-Smile later in the day, so it was still cool, not fun tubing weather. Beau hooped and hollered as the water inched up his body. I was too scared to sit on my tube. I put it over my head and down my body, and found, that it stuck right there on my hips, like a giant fucking rubber tutu. I glared at Beau. Finally, resigning myself, pulled it off, placed it back in the water, and gingerly eased backwards into the hole like you're supposed to, and, nearly toppling over, found my ass stuck inside the center of tube, the rest of my body firmly wedged in. I looked like the high school geek who had been stuffed in a trash can by the resident bully. "Great," I said.

Really just wanting to get to the ring-dropped point, we floated along, our faces just an inch from the water as we watched hundreds of rainbow trout swimming by. Like kids, we kept shouting out to each other things like, "Holy cow, look at that one! It's a monster!" We were so intent on the fish that we missed a doe with twin fawns up on the bank, and only noticed her long after we'd passed by. So, it became a joke for the rest of the float - Beau would say, "Oooh look at that fish!" and then I would snap my head up and scan the shore for deer.

Continuing along, I pointed and said, "Wow, look at that bird on the edge of that log. It is so beautiful, what a brilliant color blue! What is that?" I asked Beau. I always expect him to know every item of flora and fauna in existence.

Squinting he said, "Oh, I dunno, maybe a Stellar Jay. Not sure though." Beau continued to muse on what bird it could be. I continued to fawn over the brilliance of its color.

As we finally approached and began to pass it, we both grew silent as we realized just what kind of bird it was.

"Ummm."

"Uhh, that looks like a beer can."

"It is."

"Uh huh, the great 'Stellar Jay.' Don't you mean the great 'Pabst Jay,' or perhaps the great 'Michelob Jay?'

"Shut up."

We reached the general area the ring had been lost in, and met our next difficulty. We both thought once we reached it, we'd easily orient on where it had been dropped, but seeing as how the river was lined with trees and rocks, finding that ONE tree and ONE rock suddenly seemed difficult and confusing. One of us thought it was one, one thought it was the other. We put on our goggles and mask and each began to look, but it became clear very quickly that it was a lost cause. Despite record temperatures, the water still seemed deep and now there seemed to have been an increase in silt, which made the water more murky and covered many of the rocks. After 20 minutes I called off the search. I didn't feel nearly as bad as I had the weekend before, probably because I knew now it really was pointless. Oh well.

We continued on with the second half of the float, me still bitching about my diminutive tube. "You said you wanted a smaller one!" Beau protested. "I know," I yelled back, "But I didn't mean for you to buy me a lifesaver!" Beau then offered to trade tubes, which we did, and as he boarded the tiny tube, I watched in a mix of horror and glee as he flipped, ass over teakettle, into the water. I must have laughed for a full ten minutes after that, each time I pictured his green butt flying into the air. Oddly, he did not find it so amusing.

Continuing on, a man living next to the river dove in with his dog. He said hello and we asked him what time it was. "Oh, about 2pm. Well, after that," he amended. I gaped. As we floated silently onward I whispered, "There's no way it's after 2pm, no way." This was alarming to the both of us since I started work at 4pm and there was still the logistics of finishing the float, driving one car back to the other car in the other town (Lolo) and then driving back to Missoula, showering, and going to work. "He must be wrong, why would he fuck with us like that?" I continued. But Beau was distracted. "Your shoulders look really red," he said, "Real red." This was also alarming, since I tend to be the kind of person for whom the burn magically appears hours after getting out of the sun. If it was already showing itself this brightly, it meant I was in for one helluva burn. Wonderful.

A few minutes later when some fishermen in a boat were rowing by us, we asked them the time. "2:17," one said.

FUCK!

ONCE AGAIN, as in the past two floats, we stood up, grabbed our tubes, and began our usual frantic, splashy march down the river. "I can't believe we're going through this again! I can't believe it's after 2pm! How can that be? It was morning when we left?" Obviously, we had entered some sort of time warp and lost hours of time. There is no other explanation.

We finally made it out, and made the boomerang trip back to Missoula, where I quickly jumped in the shower so I wouldn't have to go to Shop-n-Smile looking and smelling like Swamp Thing (they frown on that). Getting out of the shower, my shoulders and back displayed what could only be described as an abstract art sunburn. Since I actually HAD put on sunscreen, but had not been able to reach my back/shoulders, there were different slashes, chunks, and curvatures around which my skin was burnt to an impressively glowing red. And it just radiated heat. Lovely!

So, I did my shift at Shop-n-Smile, the whole while feeling hot, nauseated, and dizzy. I drank about five glasses of water, each time my mouth becoming cotton dry a short time later, and finally just bought and downed a bottle of orange juice, thinking it was vitamins and electrolytes I needed. It certainly helped.

And I'm certainly a big fat dork.

Found on Myspace!

So, I used to teach elementary school in Bangkok, my favorite and longest-running being my 6th graders (whom I began teaching in 4th grade and followed them up). I absolutely adored them, and several still email me, though I left Thailand nearly four years ago (shit!) now.

Today, I got a "Friend Request" on myspace from one of these students - who is now a 15 year old girl. Uh oh.

My myspace page isn't so bad. It's not raunchy, there's no pics of me in a bikini, and I'm not a friend whore. I don't even blog on it, since obviously I do that here, and I do not advertise there about here. But I still never imagined my page being seen by anyone else but other adult friends. Okay, I'm fucking naive, I know.

She's a wonderful student - super bright, a very talented writer, eccentric and interesting, kinda like a cross between Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger (since we have Harry Potter on the brain). Although I am happy to email with my former students, I've always limited contact to keep things (somewhat) professional. I don't join all the groups and lists they send me, I never give them my cellphone number (though they repeatedly beg for it), etc. But for some reason, I feel like rejecting this student on myspace would be unnecessarily cruel. Yet, I'm not sure it's a good idea either. I do post bulletins (usually just the endless 'get to know me!' lists), but otherwise my time there is pretty benign.

Now I'm just going back and forth, but I guess I'm wondering what you think. This is the one student who has kept up writing me the most, who sent me a gorgeous, giant photo montage of all my former students with their notes of congrats after I got married, and one who continues to email me updating me on other students and seeking my advice on her life. And we talk about books, a favorite subject of mine. I'd feel terrible to reject her in this way, but... I dunno.

Thoughts?

The End of an Era

Yes, I am a Harry Potter fan. A gigantic, enthusiastic, at times, obsessive fan. I step away from it for awhile, but when I come back, I am completely saturated with it, happily. I love each book, though am more attached to some than others (3 and 5). I am waiting for my book 7 with as much anticipation as most big events in my life, and also with apprehension, knowing I will finish the book, probably within days if I don't work too much, and then will feel a great sadness that it's all over. I'm also terrified that some asshole is going to post some unavoidable spoiler and fuck things up for me, like one of my students did for Order of the Phoenix when she said, "You know Sirius dies, Teacher J.!" *mutter*

It's funny, I sometimes get a little freaked at my attachment to these books, and yet, though I am WAY more attached than most people I know (it kind of alarms Beau a bit), my perusing of the internet, and of some other more heavily-involved friends' blogs has reminded me that I am NOWHERE near the disciple of some. I don't know every finite detail of each book, and though I have a strong attachment to certain characters (Lupin, Tonks, etc.), I just don't have these others' loyalty. It almost makes me feel like I'm not a true fan, and maybe also, a little relieved that I'm not.

I have delved into hundreds and hundreds of various types of "fan fiction," including -ooh- slash, which I think is the area where the real die-hards lie. There are message boards, conventions, thousands of websites (Mugglenet is king), and tonight, there will be parties. Reading the newspaper this morning, there are about six or seven events just in Missoula alone, which is saying something.

So, I really do want to talk about it, and the characters, with that pure enthusiasm that only true geeks posses, but I'm not sure I want to dive into that world. It's such a commitment! I saw Mugglenet advertising for writers, and although I think it would be fantastically fun and a good way to keep my writing up, it also freaks me out since a) you have to devote a LOT of time to it, and b) it's one of those areas where if you fuck up ONE detail, 10,000 HP fans will jump all over your ass, feigning great offense. But I'd like to do it because after reading quite a bit of fan fiction, I found myself indignant at many of the "good" stories. I didn't think they were all that great, though some had interesting plots, indeed. This is not just because I am a writing style and grammatical snob, but also because, as in a story yesterday featuring Snape as the main character, I kept thinking, "Snape would never say that! Snape would never do that! He doesn't even TALK this much!" Now, I know, who am I to be the judge of that? I'm just one fan out of 20 gazillion, but I feel like I have an idea what is "probable" and "believable" in a character's actions and speech. It made me want to write my own stuff more.

Anyway, it's celebration time! Wooo hooo! I'm so excited!!! I kinda wish I hadn't pre-ordered and that I'd just gone to our local Barnes & Noble and gotten a copy right away. Oh well, I have to do that real life thing anyway. Can't wait to see how the book ends and how our wonderful cast of characters choose to ride off into the sunset. Hooray for Harry Potter!
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Friday night, both Beau and I got off from our respective retail suck jobs at 10pm and I asked if we could just go over to the local Barnes & Noble to check out the festivities. This is one of those times when your "beau" does something for you purely because they know it gives you joy, despite the fact that it holds nearly no interest for him/her beyond a mild academic curiosity.

There were several people lingering outside, but the store was open and we went in. It was pretty full, though not as packed as I had imagined. People were simply milling around, many young children or teenagers in black robes or striped socks and scarves. Everything was just so...mild. I was pretty disappointed. I thought there would be much fanfare, games, contests, I dunno, confetti, someone on a microphone MC'ing the "event." To be fair, there were SOME things going on. One corner of B&N hosted some puzzles kids could play, they were handing out large, plastic Harry spectacles, and you could get a small ticket for a drawing that a monotone voice would ooze over the loudspeaker about every 15 minutes, droning out the matching numbers. I just thought there'd be...more.

After about a half hour of wandering aimlessly, Beau and I ended up in one of our favorite sections: cookbooks, where he was perusing the beer and winemaking volumes. The maps were behind us, and he took out a large map of New Zealand, unfolded it, and we just peered at our old home on the north island. "There it is," I said, my fingers tracing along the old routes we used to drive regularly to the next two towns. We both kind of sighed nostalgically as he folded the map back up and returned it to the shelf.

At that point, I thought we should just go. Since my book was pre-ordered and there wasn't much going on, there didn't seem to be any reason to hang out any longer. I'd just have to wait until Saturday or Monday. Sadly, it never arrived Saturday, and I resigned myself to expecting it Monday. Again, avoiding the internet and newspapers' Harry Potter headlines.

Sunday morning after watering the garden, I stopped to pick up our mail which I hadn't done Saturday. It's all bills and crap anyway, so mail doesn't hold the same magic it once did for me. As I opened the box, a key was there. "Oh shit!" I said. Keys are used to open up larger boxes where stuff that doesn't fit in your regular mailbox goes. I opened it up, and sure enough, there was my fucking Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows book! "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!" I hadn't checked the day before, because UPS always delivers to our door, only the post office has access to our mailboxes. I have no idea how the UPS guy managed to do this - I had been tracking the package online and had gotten the ambiguous and disappointing "In Missoula" answer with no hint that it was on its way. The only thing I can think of is that the UPS guy arrived at the same time as the post office guy and asked him to just stick it in my box.

DRAT! A whole day of Harry Potter wasted!

So now I am floating gently, happily, hypnotically in my Harry Potter world. I am reading as if each word is oxygen, giving me life. Every chance I get to sneak in a page or two, I do. I even resorted to sneaking into the photocopy room, copying a few pages, and then reading them at my desk, as if I'm reading some important document. I'd feel guilty about this if it weren't for the fact that BOTH my bosses left for the entire week and BOTH left me with NOTHING to do (despite the fact that I asked them to before they took off). I even take my bookbag with me to the restroom and read a few more pages there. Yeah, I know, TMI.

In a couple more days it will be over, and I will be filled with a lot of emotions, but hopefully most of all, contentment. It'd be nice if another book, another series will come along someday to fill me with such excitement again. Until then, I think we'll all be left with a little hollow space where our love and excitement for Harry Potter resides.

Happy Birthday, Beau!

Happy Birthday, my beautiful Beau! Today is a very special day for me, because it signifies when you were brought into this world, and how it has been a better place ever since. It truly is a celebration - a day to celebrate that you live and breathe and walk upon this earth. I am so thankful you are here, and I hope the upcoming year brings you the fulfillment and security that has eluded you of late.

And you really are the biggest goober, EVER. Like, to infinity!

Love you!