Back in Business and Ain't it Grand

Well, I actually am alive, contrary to popular belief. I don't want you to get teary-eyed or anything, but I'm glad you're here. I got my stats-report in the email last week and see that there are a couple of you (I don't know who you are, I just know you're there) who continue to check the site to see if I've said anything. And I know I've been a disappointment.

But now, about six weeks since my last post, I am simply here to say that this Friday at midnight, I will be joining the oodles of underage wizards and pick up my reserved copy of HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS. And no, I won't give anything away here until I feel enough time has passed that anyone who's anyone will have already read it already. But, needless to say, I'm glad that I have some extra time this weekend to read -- I only have a Saturday evening and a Sunday matinee performance to prohibit my continuous reading of what may be the most anticipated novel of all time.

Leaving on a jet plane...er...trailways...

This is it. The end of the road and the beginning of the highway. I have spent all of 2007 in New York so far. And tomorrow I leave for the mountains for the summer. Keep your fingers crossed that I'll be able to communicate with y'all still... and that I don't fall into the river and get rushed into the ocean and end up in the Bermuda Triangle somewhere. I guess if I did, though, it would be okay, because I could say hey to Jack and Kate and Sawyer.

wishing and hoping

It's almost here. The sweet sounds of summer. Warm breezes. Laughter and frivolity.

So, I woke up this morning to the warm breeze coming in through the window. And I wanted to just roll over and close my eyes for a little while longer, then get up and have a leisurely breakfast, and take a dive into the ocean. Of course, I'm not even near the ocean. Nor do I have time for a leisurely breakfast.

But I will soon. And I will frolick in the sand. Sit in a hammock. Nap. Eat strawberries. Wear suncreen. Breathe in ocean salty air.

...the temperature's rising!

This is oppression if I've ever seen it. I'm done with it and there's no holding me back. All of a sudden, it happened, too... like wam-bam-thank-you-ma'am, all at once the cold air breezed away and WOOSH! we're having a heat wave.

I visited the NYC once in mid-August and thought it was pretty hot, yeah. But now I'm living through it. And working through it. And spending my days in it. UNFAIR. I am going to do my best to never actually spend a summer in this city in my life if I can help it. And hey, so far so good.

I leave town one week from today for the tropic clime that is the Pocono Mountains. Of course, where I'll be working is supposedly internet-free... no, not no-cost-internet, but no internet at all... so updates my be fewer and farther in between than normal, but hey, sue me.

Three down.

Yes. I warded off the Dementors and finished the last page of the third book on the subway into work this morning. Don't worry. I was at the Strand yesterday and bought my own copies of the next three books as well so I don't have to borrow my roomies' anymore.

I think the whole thing about these books for me is the lives of our three best friends. Harry, Hermoine and Ron are unflappable, unbeatable and attached at the hip. I love them. They love each other. There's nothing that can get in their (collective) way. Basically, I want what they have. I want to live in that sort of world.

I guess, though, in the real world, you can't have that. It's possible in school, and save for Quidditch, sorting hats, Diagon Alley and other magic, I like to remember my time in school very happy like the three kiddos. But lately, it's hard - you know, in the real world. Like THE PARTY used to sing, "if I'd known then what I know now, I'd have stayed a child much longer."

I want to have a Ron and Hermoine to spend my afternoons with watching the lazy squid on the lake. Any takers? Let's just find an invisibility cloak and get the hi-ho outta town.

and the Prisoner of Azkaban, currently

"Ah! I haven't done this in so long and I can't figure out why I stopped."
"What?" you ask, slyly.
"Reading a good book!" I yelp. "I can't get enough of JK Rowling!" I let out a little squeal and a yip before jumping in the air a little and grinning wide.

There is nothing quite like it. Last week, after finishing Tim O'Briens interminable and lesser novel, GOING AFTER CACCIATO, I figured the time was ripe to finally begin reading the series everyone has been talking about for the past decade. Dwight referenced it in the penultimate episode of THE OFFICE this season and, well, frankly, that's enough for me.

So, here we are, approximately one week later (give or take a day or two) and I'm midway through the third book. Hermoine is taking so many classes, her books just ripped a hole in her bookbag. Harry was told he's going to die by the Divination teacher. Draco is milking his stupid arm wound for all it's worth, giving poor Ron a terrible time of it. And Beedow is loving it.

I stay awake late. I get up early. I don't mind the long-ass subway rides I had to take over the weekend. I've forgotten about food (but not the season finales this past week, nor have I calmed down about what's going to happen Wednesday on LOST, but that's for tomorrow night), and if you know me, you know that means something's afoot! sir (as Sir Sherlock would have exclaimed).

I'm giddy as a schoolgirl, although, thankfully with my new fangled haircut, I no longer have the longish hair to be confused with one anymore. That's right. Beedow got what amounts to a military cut - no worries, I'm not going off to fight for my country and save our land or our fine upstanding president's hide. I just look like I am.

Thank you. I hope I made sense (said Parker Posy - nice link, JJ).

Graphic Subway Ride

Well, I thought I would talk about the last production in the City Center Encores! series which I saw last night, STAIRWAY TO PARADISE. I was going to write about how Ruthie Henshall (the only reason I wanted to see it) got shafted by getting only two songs two sing. Plus no one knew who the hell she was. How can you not know someone who has done so much, she doesn't even need to include the 10th anniversary LES MIZ concert in her bio?! Amazing.

I was going to say that although actress-turned-celebrity Kristin Chenoweth did too much and was just sticking to her usual antics that everyone so adores, she was very funny in her sketches and songs with clowns Kevin Chamberlin and Christopher Fitzgerald.

I was going to say all that. I was going to say I even enjoyed Jenn Gambatese.

But then I got on the subway to come home and I was leaning against the third door of the third car, just like I always do. And I was looking around at people, scoping out the general situation, just like I always do. And then I saw it. My stomach realized what was happening before my mind did. Mister Subway Stranger's (see yesterday's post) brother was holding his hand in front of his mouth. His eyes were wide and there was a look of panic behind them. As he moved swiftly to the door, waiting patiently for it to open, he was holding the vomit inside his mouth. Some of it escaped, though, and was dripping down his lips, over his chin and onto the floor of the car. TERROR! AWFUL! GROSS! SMELLY! YUCKY!

So, once I saw that, I couldn't write about the concert anymore. Tomorrow: blueberry muffins, or how I learned to eat something other than Timbits for breakfast.