One year later and I finally remove Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows from my bookshelf and open the darn thing. Not only do I open it but I read it. I'd like to say that I'm impressed and amazed and all those fun descriptions but, the truth is, I'm easily amused. This last book could have been the biggest load of elephant droppings and I probably still would have raved about it but that's not my point.

800 pages of words words and more words. One week. And it only took that long because I couldn't afford the 13 hour sitting that it would have taken.

For the past week I've been Potter'd out. Dreams filled with magic, hours in between chapters simply imagining what might happen next, debating what should have happened and, since I'm not afraid of spoilers, probing colleagues for what I should expect.

In all honesty though, the best part of the book was relating it to my husband who is completely daunted by the massive book. There I am, sitting on the sofa at the end of every night relating in my own words the magic and wonder of the awesome world of Harry Potter.

Did I do it any justice? I'd like to think I did. I mean, it wasn't the graceful wording of Ms. Rowlings but I had much fun telling the story like an enthusiastic little girl. My hands waving in the air as I spoke of You-Know-Who and Harry Potty and who got Abra Cadabra'd and the anger and joy and...woo! I'm getting dizzy just thinking about it.

All in all, it was a fun book. I can't wait to see how the movie turns out.


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Real as can be


Such a Clubber


If only I were as clever -