It has been a wonderful, rainy cool (90's) weekend here, and I have spent it in bed with my new favorite male:





In fact, I have spent every spare moment of the past 2 weeks with him. I am hopelessly enchanted.
I don't read much anymore: it poses a great liability to me. Either a book is mundane, and therefore a total waste of my most precious commodity--time, or it captures me totally and I am completely unable to put it down. Thus it has been with dear Harry, Hermoine, and Ron. They have possessed every spare moment of my life for 2 weeks.

I didn't "do" the HP thing. My dear ME has loved them, devoured them over and over: movies, books...whatever. You see, she grew up with the kids. She has been their age with every step of the journey and has read and re-read the books, waited in line at bookstores for the latest release, waited at midnight for the latest movie...in short, they have been a very important element in her adolescent years. I, however, have avoided them like the plague.

I didn't "do" the Star Wars thing either. I LOVED the first movie--I drove to the nearest theatre (45 minutes away) to see it no less than 5 times when it came out--I was addicted. Then I found out there would be a second. And a third. And so on. At 5-6 year intervals. And I quit. I remember telling my friend that I refused to be 30 years old and getting a baby sitter so I could go to the movies to see what happened to Luke Skywalker. And I haven't, to this day seen another Star Wars movie. When I am done, I am done.

I think this is all a supreme example of my fear of addiction. To anything. I am, as you might have guessed, something of a control freak.

Anyway, back to Harry. I saw in the newspaper several weeks ago that a local church was doing a study group on the Potter series: not bashing it (as is the norm, here in midevil Georgia), but embracing it as important literature and as a classic tale of good vs. evil, worthy of study and contemplation. Both because I am looking for ways to have quality time with ME (she is a senior this year, so I am savoring this "last year together"), and as a way to become, if only on the fringes, involved with a church that I could respect--if there is such a thing--I offered to read the books if she was interested in going with me. And here we are.

I finished the last book last night. And I am spent. Totally wiped out. And wishing that there were more. These characters have become part of me somehow, which is, I think, part of the obsession with them. I wish they were true. Wish that there actually were wizards that could wave a wand and fight the evil in the world. Wish there were witches who would give their lives to try to make it all better. Wish there were dark lords of evil that could be defeated and that with their defeat all would be right again. Wish we all could find it in ourselves to unite for good, to find a way--any way--to embrace each other as equals and to try--no, to fight for that special something that unites us. To live and die with the understanding that it is, after all, all about love.

It is a good thing I didn't start this series years ago when it came out. I don't have the patience. I would have imploded if I had been forced to wait for a year or so between each book. I simply don't know how millions of people did it. But I am grateful that I have read them. I will read them again, and again, probably. Just not this year. I have a lot to do--especially now that I am 2 weeks behind! At least I have finished the books so I can really enjoy our discussion group. And if you haven't read them--well, I guess you could say I recommend them. Just be sure you have all of them available so you can pick up the next one as soon as you finish one. Believe me, after number 3 you won't be able to wait.