HP7 II: It All Ended

Darren and I both got to see Harry Potter 7 Part 2 yesterday. I've been mulling it over ever since. Darren stopped thinking about it after it was over. This is why he watches more movies than I do.

Here are some of our impressions. There are spoilers here and there if you don't know the story. It's also fairly incomprehensible if you don't know the story, although at least I didn't use terms like "squib" and "polyjuice potion."

1. We both enjoyed the movie.

1.5. (because I don't want to change subsequent numbers) I got to see it with Deidre and Tulip. Tulip had already seen it: she attended a 22-hour Harry Potter-a-thon at the theater. They watched all seven movies, leading up to the midnight release of the eighth. I don't think she's insane. I know other people who would do that. On second thought, maybe I just know several insane people.

2. The screenwriters snipped, rearranged, and changed quite a bit in the climax. It was for the better. I liked the climax in the book, but onscreen it would have fallen with an audible thud.

3. Neville. Wow. In the beginning of the story, he was short, timid, and basically comic relief. By the end, he's organizing the resistance within Hogwarts, wielding a sword, and is pretty nice to look at, too.

4. I suppose -- suppose -- it was worth going through seven and a half movies of Hermione being a shrew just to see her finally smile at Ron in this one.

5. Ron had some good ideas! Finally!

5.5. Deidre and Tulip disagreed with me over who was more attractive. They said that Harry isn't good-looking at all, but Ron was pretty hot. Whatever. However, I did concede after this movie that Ron is probably the better kisser.

6. From DJ: Griphook the goblin was a great villain. We'd forgotten his treachery so it was a nasty shock.

7. From DJ: The dragon didn't simply take off smoothly in the air: it lurched and stumbled. It looked like a real dragon.

8. Both of us teared up several times, mostly during the Snape-Lily flashbacks. Especially her death. Snape is, of course, awesome. The movie leaves you wondering why the heck Lily chose James. In the book, you get more of a sense of Snape's antisocial behavior and his deep prejudice against half-bloods.

9. The scene in the forest, when Harry uses the Resurrection stone to see James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius... well, maybe some tears there, too.

10. Hermione is too thin for her height. Her eating habits evidently didn't improve over 19 years.

10. Ginny might be Harry's one true love, but I'll bet she had to work her wedding date around Ron and Hermione.

11. One of my favorite characters is Bellatrix, and Helena Bonham Carter does her brilliantly. This time it was fun watching Bonham Carter act as Hermione acting like Bellatrix.

12. The actor playing Voldemort did a marvelous job showing how You-Know-Who becomes frailer and more desperate throughout the movie. But he never overdoes it, when Voldemort would have been all too easy to overdo.

13. I was sorry that the story required Dumbledore to appear again. I hate the way this actor (Michael Gambon, who stepped in after Richard Harris died) interprets that character, and I'm always happier when he's offscreen.

14. I mean, seriously. His Dumbledore has no vestige of humor, doesn't project an air of calm authority and concern, has none of the warmth and sparkle that Dumbledore is supposed to have. Did the director not catch onto this problem somewhere around Movie 3?

15. My favorite lines were both delivered by Professor McGonnagal (Maggie Smith lights up the screen anytime she appears). The first one, after she's activated stone knights to protect the school, with a little giggle: "I have always wanted to use that spell!" Second, speaking to Professor Flitwick, who refers to "You-Know-Who": "It's Voldemort. Use his name. He's going to kill you whatever you call him."

16. It wasn't in the book, but DJ and I both liked the Neville and Luna pairing at the end.

17. Satisfying end to a decade-long story. Yay Harry Potter!

-- SJ and DJ

From the Archives

A few years ago, I tried my hand at an anonymous blog. Most of my readers were people I borrowed from a friend who also has an anonymous blog. It was fun because I could write with more abandon; it was too much work because this is the blog where my heart is.

Here are a few posts I wrote at the time, in 2008. I just rediscovered them and they made me laugh. Addie (Ladybug) was 6; Stuart (Titan) was 5; and Daphne (Dilly) was one and a half. Darren is August, and I am Mairzy.

Sickness -- Hurray!
Ladybug is sick again. She's lying on the couch having the stomach-bug equivalent of a celebratory party.

"Ooohh!" (Moaning with her eyes closed, but checking our reaction through a tiny slit of eye.) "I'm really, really sick. I need to go to the hospital!"

"You don't have a fever, honey. You're not sick enough to go the hospital."

"I AM sick enough! I won't last the night! Tomorrow you won't have me with you anymore!"

"Would you like some water? And I'll pray for you."

"I won't last the the night, I tell you!"

Daddy prays for her, during which she moans pathetically. Then he announces it's storytime (the usual bedtime routine). Ladybug moans louder.

"I won't last through storytime!"

At August's request, I'm going to Google the symptoms of appendicitis. But we think that involves a fever and pain, not an upset stomach and a dramatic six-year-old.

***

Food Fights

I thoroughly enjoy cooking, but I'm not a "foodie." When I get in the kitchen to create, I make good, familiar food: Italian, barbecue, and close enough to authentic Southern to taste good but not actually kill you. I don't often branch out into exotic dishes that involve, say, eggplant and saffron.

The other day, I was feeling bold and creative. I found a bottle of red cooking wine in our pantry. (Surely this gives you an idea of how unsurprising my cooking is, if red wine is a daring choice.) I made up a red-wine-honey-rosemary sauce, poured it over chicken breasts, and let it simmer. August, I knew, would be most impressed.

My children were not. Ladybug wandered into the kitchen and wrinkled her nose. "What do I SMELL?" I am still training my children that criticizing Mama's cooking is walking really close to the death penalty. I snapped, "It's not for you. I'm cooking broccoli for you and Titan." They love broccoli (bragging here) with butter and dill weed.

Not deflected, Ladybug wailed, "It smells like mud soup!"

"Get out of the kitchen."

A few minutes later, as the savory aroma and red wine and rosemary filled the kitchen, Titan ran through.

A word about Titan. He's lucky that he isn't known on this blog as "Upchucky." This child has always had a massive gag reflex. Before Titan was born, I had a horror of vomit. Thanks to him, that's a fear I've confronted and conquered. It's getting better as he gets older, but I'm looking forward to turning the care and cleaning of him over to his wife.

So, Titan ran through the kitchen. "Something smells bad!" he wailed.

"Go out of the kitchen!"

Titan clapped a hand over his nose, ran into the back room with the new carpet, and... threw up.

So the chicken almost burned while I desperately scrubbed regurgitated goldfish crackers from the new carpet (vinegar and water does the trick). I saved supper in time for August to come home and say, "Mm, something smells good!"

I banged a few pans around. Meanwhile, Ladybug strolled in. "Do you smell that, Daddy? What we're having for supper is broccoli and something that won't taste very good."

August made Ladybug apologize to me. The next night I made pizza

Bitter Cold

It was cold today. Anytime we had to go out, we rushed as quickly as possible to the next available shelter. At church we all looked at each other and shivered and said, "It's bitter outside!"

This afternoon, we got an email from August's grandmother in Canada. "I remember the day your dad was born," she wrote (it being my father-in-law's birthday). "It was 22 degrees below freezing on the Fahrenheit scale."

August and I looked at each other and shivered and said, "It was 20 degrees ABOVE freezing today." That's a forty-degree difference. That's the difference between 70 and 30. Between spring and winter.

Suddenly I feel like going outside and sunbathing on the trampoline.

-- SJ

Love, Sara

Dear Mom,

When I was young, I thought it was a compliment to tell you that something "tastes like restaurant food." Because I'd eat something in a restaurant but wouldn't touch it at home. I repent in sackcloth and ashes.

Love, Sara.

***

Dear New Camera,

I wonder what crime a camera has to commit to be sentenced to our house. As you were shipped off in your brand-new plastic packaging, mere weeks ago, did they tell you what happened to the last couple of cameras who came here? One died slowly. The other simply vanished one day and has never been seen again.

Maybe you didn't know. Maybe you lived in blissful innocence until that moment when you got sat on. I like to think so.

Love, Sara.

***
Dear Sid Fleischman,

I grew up loving your Josh McBroom books. Recently I discovered several others of your children's books. And yesterday I found your autobiography, which is readable and charming.

Yesterday I also found out that you died last year at the age of 90. I'm mourning our loss, sir.

Love, Sara.

***
Dear Designers of Women's Clothes,

Women need pockets too, you know.

Love, Sara.

Birth Story Haikus

If you read the subject title three or four times, thinking, "Whaaa...?!" while your flight instinct kicks in, probably this doesn't qualify as "fun" for you. You may be excused.

As a mother, I am interested in others' birth stories, and I like telling mine. I can't help it. Giving birth was an event that changed me and introduced me to a brand-new person... on four different occasions. You just don't shrug something like that off.

As a writer, I'm all for well-edited stories. Birth stories can go on entirely too long, with entirely too much detail. There's also no natural stopping place: once you've finished the first birth story, you can't help but move to the second. And third. And beyond.

Conversion Diary offers a balance between the mother and the writer: birth stories in haiku. (Syllable count is 5-7-5, if you need reminding.) This way you can capture the highlights of each birth and still have friends after you're done.

Here are my four. Possibly too much information for some, but I did try to keep it readable:

Baby #1
Married for nine months.
First labor’s always long, right?
Four and a half hours!

Baby #2
This one will be fast!
Oops, sunny-side-up baby.
Twelve hours and section.

Baby #3
All set for VBAC
Midwife feels baby’s bottom
Breech! Section again.

Baby #4
Scheduled c-section
Peaceful, joking with doctors.
Three happy siblings.

-- SJ

Please! You do it too! (And dads can contribute too. I think I'll get Darren to compose an ode to the poison ivy on his hands, right where I was squeezing during Baby #1.)

Top Ten Things to Know About Addie

10. When she was born, we apologized to her. We had to learn how to be parents, and she was our first test subject.

9. She was a quirky baby and toddler who hated loud noises, wasn't interested in other children, and staged nuclear meltdowns over sudden changes in plans. She taught us to be gentle and careful parents.

8. She didn't talk until she was two and a half. Her first intelligible sounds were repeating the alphabet after me.

7. When she did talk, daily conversation got a whole lot weirder.

6. I spent six months teaching her to read at age 5. Then she struck off on her own and read "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz."

5. She enjoys the drama of being sick. It's unfortunate that she has a very robust constitution.

4. She has a powerful sweet tooth.

3. She really wants to do good and be good.

2. She has grown into a helpful young woman who mentors Daphne and helps me keep tabs on Pip.

1. Today she turns ten years old. We're celebrating!

The Joneses Go North, Part 1

It had been six years since we were last in Nova Scotia, so a trip north was in order.

(If I had read that sentence anytime before November 1999, I'd have thought, "It's been twenty-two years since I was last in Nova Scotia, and who cares?" There's a lot more to my life since Darren became part of it.)

We actually fit two trips into one -- which, by the way, I highly recommend doing if you enjoy packing, repacking, shipping a box of clothes up ahead of you, shuffling, driving, repacking, gambling on the weather, and living out of backpacks for ten days. We gathered with all of Darren's immediate family and some of his extended family in Maine. Then we drove across the Canadian border, stayed with his parents, and visited his grandparents.

Then we came home.

The trip home took a total of twenty-one hours (split into two days), so I gave that line its own paragraph.

This time we tried something new: we took the train from D.C. to Boston:

Boarded and ready to roll.

We are now officially Train People. It costs about the same as flying, but it's half the hassle. Technically it takes longer, yes, but you can read a book, stretch your legs, take a nap, or shift in your seat without violating four other people's personal space. And there's so much to look at outside! Even the industrial areas of cities is more interesting than clouds. I now see why my mom always takes the train up to see us.

Happily speeding along the tracks.

(From Boston to Portland, we took the bus. That was far less enchanting and I didn't take any pictures.)

In Maine, we stayed at Shiloh. For Darren's side of the family, that's all you have to say. For the rest of the world, "Shiloh" needs more explanation. Shiloh is a large, rambling building built in 1897 (96? 98? Sometime around then). Its most distinctive feature is the square tower with a crown on top. (Here are some pictures of Shiloh as it was in the past. Now only the front building remains.)

It was built as a church and a missionary school, so as you climb the narrow spiral staircases, you keep happening upon bedrooms. Those bedrooms open into more bedrooms, and you look around the corner and find yet more bedrooms. I was delighted with Shiloh the first time I saw it, and our kids certainly weren't disappointed either. The cousins got to choose their own rooms, and four of them (Tucker, Jack, Stuart, and Daphne) liked the idea of dorm life:

The Cousin Dorm


While in Maine, we started out for the zoo but got rained out. So we went to the Children's Museum of Maine instead. It was an acceptable substitute:

Chloe looking at the honey bees. Phillip is in the background. We didn't have to say "No, don't touch that!" at this museum.


Tucker dressed as a firefighter! His hands are, anyway.

Stuart obligingly smiling for the camera. Note the long sleeves. It was, after all, only June. (A little Southern sarcasm there.)

Phillip in the toddler playground, a fun and stimulating enclosed area that kept him amused for about six minutes.


Also while in Maine, everyone went to Uncle Rick and Aunt Kath's place on the lake. I don't have pictures because "everyone" doesn't include Darren, me, or Pip. Travel-weary (and fighting a cold, in Darren's case), we stayed at Shiloh. We were grateful for family who allowed our older three to enjoy kayaking, boat rides, and fishing despite our exhaustion.

I don't have pictures, but I do have a haiku from the last time we visited Uncle Rick and Aunt Kath, in 2004:

Life Is Bitter: A Poem in Haiku
Inspired by Addie Jones

I stand on the shore
As they sail away from me.
My tears stream freely.

They would not take me
They said there was no more room.
But Jed got to go.

Ah, life is bitter,
For I wanted to be there,
In the boat with them.

I stand on the shore
As they sail away from me.
I see Jed waving.

(This time, not only did all the cousins get to go out a couple of times, but they all got to steer the boat.)

More to come...