Category Archives: Harry Potter

Food for Thought

Yes, I did in fact eat a hunk of cheese, two pepperoni sticks (think Slim Jims) and a triple scoop of chocolate ice cream for dinner.

Horrified?  Me, too.  But don’t worry. That’s NOT what I fed my kid.  He had leftover fish, some rice, and green beans with a healthy dose of ketchup (it counts as a second vegetable – so said Ronald Reagan).

Actually, maybe Snags only had the aroma of dinner for his dinner.  It looks as if he hardly ate anything, perhaps a bite of ketchup, before he declared that he was “full” and wandered off to play the Star Wars Lego game on XBox.

My husband, having finished all of the rotten steak he cooked a while back, ate leftover spaghetti and ratatouille before wandering off to a physical therapy appointment for his bum knee.  An appointment that he had canceled last night and rescheduled for tonight because last night he needed to go to the chiropractor for his bum back.  He wondered whether the PT exercises for his knee had caused the back pain, but his Chiropractor and I both voted no.  The sudden back pain was more likely tied to the hours spent with his body curled into the shape of a poorly written letter, perhaps a C or a U, or maybe an S, as he played one too many games of XBox over the past week with Snags.

So all this left me with cabinets full of healthy healthy food everywhere, but not a drop to eat.  Or something like that.  And I was too lazy to cook anything and too lazy to reheat anything, so I took the easy way out.  Besides, if I didn’t binge on this junk tonight, it would still be around here tomorrow, and I’d end up eating it then instead of starting to eat healthier, like I’d planned.  And also, I deserved this junk (that’s a lie I tell myself; don’t call me on it). 

After all, the day just started off bad.  As I was about to step into the shower this morning the power went out!  Which meant that after my shower I couldn’t dry or style my hair.  And I couldn’t iron my clothes for work.  So I had to let my hair air dry and hope for the best which didn’t turn out very best looking.  And then I had to find something to wear that looked like I’d only slept in it half the night.

I had to use the emergency release to open the garage door so I could back the car out  rather than it drive through the door itself.  Then I had to park the car and get out again to close the garage door and lock it, by hand.  Because, folks, the door won’t respond to the remote when the power’s out!  Also, closing a garage door by hand isn’t that easy when you are kind of short and have to resort to jumping to reach the door handle over your head.  See what technology has done to us?  We love it when it works but oh how it makes us me bitter when it doesn’t.

Next came the battle of the traffic as stop lights near and far were also out and drivers suddenly forgot how to drive when the lights weren’t working.  Here’s a hint:  treat the intersections as you would a four-way stop.  Got it?  Thanks.

Then… THEN, I arrived downtown to find the anime convention had arrived.  Really, I have nothing against those that want to “celebrate all anime, manga, and all facets of Asian pop culture!”   But OH!  How that convention MAKES MY BLOOD BOIL.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it’s because the conventioneers dress up as their favorite cartoon or video game character then parade around town crossing against lights and stopping in the middle of the street to adjust their fish net stockings, or their wig, or pick up the sword or the dungeons and dragons cards they’ve just dropped.  Many of them have wire antennae on their heads, or devil horns, or tinfoil eyeglasses, or bunny tails fastened to their back sides and I guess I just don’t understand any of it. 

Every year I moan and wail and complain to my friends and co-workers about this convention and every year I swear to myself that NEXT YEAR I will be forewarned and take a vacation day the day the convention comes to town so I won’t have to witness any of this and spare myself the agony of watching geeky teens and young adults dress up in ridiculous costumes and think they are suddenly cool. But then here I am fuming again because nobody warned me this was coming to town today and I got stuck in the freak show.

Mostly I think I get so irritated because the costumed, uh, people take up all the parking spots in the garage where I pay $150 a month to park and at that price I really expect to find a parking spot without having to resort to creating my own in a fire lane. 

A friend suggested we should eat lunch at an outdoor café and laugh at those in costume, but I declined because watching all of this on purpose would surely sour my mood even more.  And you see, I want to be in a good mood this evening because I am going to the midnight release party for the final Harry Potter book tonight! 

Okay yes, I realize that sounds like the pot calling the kettle black, me whining on about the anime fans gathering together, all the while planning to attend a fan event myself.  HOWEVER, I am not dressing up for the Potter release.  In fact, I am only going because if I don’t, some 8 year old will, and then he or she will be interviewed on the TV news tomorrow morning and will spoil the entire book for me.  So I have to get the book first thing tonight then take it home where I shall lock myself in the house and not turn on the TV or radio until I’ve finished reading it! 

To make matters worse, I had a long day on a conference call where the speaker on the phone kept cutting out and the people on the other end couldn’t hear me.  So I spent most of my day asking “Can you hear me now?  How about now?” and feeling like the star of a Verizon Wireless commercial (albeit one harboring much anger from a power failure and an anime convention).  Which reminds me, I ought to call and tell Verizon how I acted out their commercial for hours on end.  Because if they get sudden new business tonight or tomorrow from folks who mention a long, bad conference call, then I think they owe me a referral fee or at least a free month on my cell phone service.

So all that stress, you see, led me to eat the junk in the first place.  And now as I sit here stuffed, I feel like I’m one of the actresses in a Lean Cuisine commercial, the one where various women are describing what they had for dinner – a bowl of popcorn, a freezer burned popsicle, or in my case, two pepperoni sticks, a hunk of cheese and some ice cream – only to hear Miss “I Ate Healthy” spout off about how she ate the chicken with roasted vegetables and penne pasta with ginger sauce.  But oh!  It was a Lean Cuisine!

So I’m left kicking myself and thinking I might have to unbutton these pants and how I need to go running only it’s still 90 degrees out and I’d get all sweaty and have to take another shower and get dressed again so I can head over to the local Barnes & Noble to get my copy of  Harry Potter.  Or  maybe I ought to put it all off until tomorrow because I think if you exercise on the day you start over with healthy eating and a good book in hand, that’s doubles or maybe triples the points you earn.  Collect enough points and you can eat more pepperoni sticks. 



Filed under anger, anime, food, Harry Potter, junk food, Lean Cuisine, power outtage, rant, Verizon


Something’s wrong with me.  I don’t feel right.  I think I’m coming down with something because my throat’s a little sore, and I’m tired.  Very, very tired.  My neighbor had a bad case of strep last week.  She came over, sat at my picnic table while our children played in the backyard.  I only talked to her.  I didn’t shake hands with her or hug her or anything.  In other words, I did nothing to encourage the passage of germs in any way!  Because for those of you who know me, you might remember that I don’t like to get sick, and I especially fear catching something contagious, no matter how easily treated it is.  There’s a word for that, this fear of germs.  It’s called Mysophobia.  And so I kept my sunglasses on and sort of squinted at her so I wouldn’t have to look at her fully, be susceptible to her sickness.  It was blistering hot out but I didn’t even offer her a cold drink because I didn’t want her strep germs on my glassware.  I only sat across from her, talking.  But maybe I caught something from her, anyway.  Maybe the germs floated out of her mouth while she was talking, caught the breeze, and landed in the air near me as I took a breath, and that’s what’s wrong with me now. 

You’re probably thinking I’m crazy, that I’m a hypochondriac, right?  Well, I can’t help that, this kind of stuff runs in the family. 

And so back to what’s wrong with me…  More than the sore throat, I’m just tired. It’s a deep, debilitating exhaustion.  It’s disturbing.  I want to lie down and go to sleep.  I wanted to lie down and go to sleep immediately after I woke up this morning.  So something is definitely wrong here. 

I googled it, these symptoms.  I might have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome .  The “chronic” part doesn’t fit right now, because this tiredness just started.  Still, maybe it IS chronic fatigue syndrome, but this is just the beginning of it.  Chronic Fatigue Syndrome has to start sometime, right?  I mean, it must have a beginning.  For every patient that sees their doctor complaining of overwhelming tiredness, I’m sure the doctor asks, “When did these symptoms start?” And the patient has to think back, and say, “Yesterday… last week… last month…”  My symptoms, I’ll tell the doctor when he asks, started on June 15th.  I remember it pretty clearly because it was less than a week after I turned 39 my birthday.

I stayed up late searching the web, checking on my symptoms, compiling a list of possibilities to discuss with the doctor.  Then I remembered that a few nights ago, I had also stayed up really late, until midnight.  I was cleaning up my blog here, deleting code that made it look strange on the page.  I had to spend hours fixing my posts because I outright ignored the instructions which read “do not cut and paste from Word because it will leave undesirable code in your posts which you will have to spend hours upon hours upon hours deleting.  And then you will still have to frost those cupcakes for tomorrow’s class party because they aren’t going to put frosting and sprinkles on themselves!”  I didn’t think the rule applied to me because I was merely importing my blog from the other site where I used keep it.  I had indeed typed all of my posts in Word before I had published them on the other site, but they looked fine there, so I didn’t believe it would be a problem here.  Until I saw that clearly, it was.  And I had to fix it.  And it took all night.

I should have paid attention to the warning.  You’d think I would have learned my lesson about this kind of technology related stuff when I ignored the warning on the photo site which said I shouldn’t order prints of my digital photos because they would be pixelated at that resolution.  “Whatever,” I thought.  “Pixelate them! I don’t care.  Just print my 500 photos and mail them to me.  I want to put them in the new albums I bought!”  But when the photos arrived, I saw with my own eyes what pixelated meant.  They were awful, and grainy, and… awful, and I couldn’t use them.  And just because I can, I’m going to tell you that there was nothing pixilated about my photos being pixelated!  I had to upload my photos again, at a higher resolution and start over.  The lesson there is twofold.  1) Heed the warnings – they are there for a reason, and 2) Order the prints before you reduce the resolution on your digital photos in an attempt to conserve storage space on your computer. 

So maybe, I thought, I’m not really sick after all.  Maybe this tiredness is simply from staying up too late.  But God, if this is how I feel after staying up until midnight, how much worse will it be when I go to the midnight release party of the final Harry Potter book on July 21st?  I won’t get home from that until 2:00 a.m. I bet!  I can’t take this tiredness.  If I am this exhausted, I won’t be up to reading Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows.  I’m afraid some 12 year-old, home from school on summer vacation, will finish the book before me and spoil the ending.  They’ll stay up all night long, because they are younger than me and they don’t have to do anything except maybe feed the dog, and they’ll read all night and all through the next day, and maybe the next (depending on how many pages J.K. Rowling has penned this time), and they’ll finish the book.  Before me.  Their parents won’t stop them either.  They won’t discourage them from devouring the book in one sitting, like they might advise them against eating all of their Halloween candy at one time.  Reading isn’t harmful in the way that too much candy is.  It won’t spoil your dinner. 

And really, who can blame the parents for letting their child do this?  That’s one of the cardinal rules of parenting:  Never discourage a child from READING.  Similar to the way you never wake a sleeping baby.  Or a sleeping tiger, if you know what’s good for you.   Parents around the world, if they’re smart, will seize this opportunity to get their own reading done, or take their own much needed nap, while their child is tucked away in their room, deep and far away inside the world of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with Harry and his friends. 

I just know the news stations will be waiting to report on the first person to finish reading the book, the way they report on the first baby born in a new year.  They’ll interview the child on television, show them on the morning talk shows!  The child will give their impression of the book, how much they liked it or didn’t, and inadvertently let slip who dies.  I don’t want to know!  I want to discover it myself.  So I’m vowing now to unplug the T.V. and I won’t check Google reader for all the feeds I subscribe to; I’ll take few days off from reading my favorite blogs.  I’ll avoid the newspapers too.  Maybe I’ll even get to bed a little bit earlier.  Then again, I probably won’t.  I’ll probably be back on-line, frantically looking up information on eye-strain and what kind of medication will help treat Harry Potter withdrawal.

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Filed under Harry Potter, hypochondria, tired