Mission accomplished

I finished the Harry Potter book and I did so in just a little over a day.

About 26 hours to be exact.

Actually, I thought that it would take a few days, of pacing myself and finding the time with playing with my boy and homelife and some excellent classical concerts in town this week.

However, I admit to being a little obsessive about things sometimes, and since I absolutely positively had to know how it ended, I couldn't stop once I started.

In all, I accomplished about 6 chapters in the wee hours after getting the book, a chapter or 2 in the morning, an additional chapter while my son ate his breakfast and a few scattered moments throughout Saturday when I could read.

By late afternoon, I was already halfway done.

Then I attended 2 great musical concerts, including a spectacular performance featuring Gershwin, Bernstein and Copeland that had me so energized that I finished the other half of the book in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

My book review shall spare the spoilers, but overall, I rate it a great book, easily one of the best in the series, with a great climax and a storyline that, in the great scheme of the wizarding world, makes a lot of sense. I think I can also appreciate some of the underlying themes that JK Rowling has brought forth in this battle between good and evil and the power of love.

Now I can't wait for everyone else I know to finish so that I can start debating certain points.

Midnight magic

It is 2 a.m. I am home at last. And The Deathly Hallows are at hand.

For two hours, I wandered a maze of costumed, bespectacled, Starbucks-fueled humanity camping out at the local Barnes and Noble, waiting for Harry Potter to be released. The largest bookstore in the county, and I had trouble finding room to navigate, tripping over sleeping 6-year-olds and Goth teens stretched out into the aisles.

But I can say I was there. And I really don't regret doing it.

Maybe it's because if I am going to be a part of a massive cultural phenomenon like the Harry Potter release, I want to live it to the fullest. It would be simple enough to order the book online, and wait for the mailman to bring it to my front door. That is the easy route.

I want to be part of the excitement, the hype. I want to be among others who are willing to debate crucial questions like whether Harry is a Horcrux.

When each of the Star Wars prequel movies came out, I was there too, on line, waiting for the midnight show. And I never regretted being a part of this.

So, too, for JK Rowling's magical swan song, I wanted to be there, when the embargo was broken and claim my own copy of the tome.

The heat in the store was intense. Too many bodies taxing the air conditioning system in stuffy corners without windows or any circulation. I studied one long line for a moment, trying to figure out if I needed to join. No, it was the latte line and I had already been sufficiently caffeinated for the night.

But it was fun, really. The costumes were amazing - a wonderful array of robes, witch's hats and scar-painted faces, though a few Bellatrices abandoned the heeled boots before the night was through.

12:01 am and a roaring applause sounded from the cash register. The first box had been broken and Harry had been released. The end was near and our reading marathons were about to begin.

Inspiration

I try to never lose an opportunity to further my son's education.

Or at least to develop his taste buds.

Despite the fact that I ate lots of different cuisines both during my pregnancy, and during the breastfeeding stage, my son has a terribly bland tongue. His typical meal is plain pasta, with just a smidge of olive oil and salt and occasionally a sprinkling of cheese. On the side, he'll have some fruit, maybe one carrot or one piece of lettuce, a cheese stick, chicken nuggets or plain tofu.

Then came my next opportunity to change things with Remy the rat.

Remy, if you don't know, is the protagonist of the latest Pixar creation Ratatouille, the rodent who yearns to be a French chef. An animal after my own heart actually.

The actual dish is a wonderful concoction of summer vegetables blended with herbes de Provence and I thought I'd take a cue from my son's new interest to make it. And then make him eat it.

My plan started off brilliantly. He embraced the idea of making ratatouille, eagerly helping me pick out the peppers and squash and the eggplant at the supermarket. He even told the checkout lady that we were making ratatouille.

At home, he eagerly awaited the time to start cooking. He accompanied me to our garden, so we could pick fresh basil and fresh parsley. Then he joined me in the kitchen and helped me chop some vegetables. (Now before you say anything, he does this, of course, with my own supervision and he does pretty well for a 4-year-old. Of course, he's only chopping yellow squash, but still....)

Ratatouille was on its way! The aromas of the vegetables filled the kitchen and excitement filled the air.

Dinner was served and I proudly brought out the dish. But he glanced at the vegetables and had second thoughts.

"I don't know if I like ratatouille," he complained.
I answered, "But you haven't tried it. And you helped to make it."

He scrunched his face in dismay, then horror. I placed a small piece of eggplant on his plate.

He toyed with the other food on his plate (yes, I served him some of his regulars, since the boy has got to eat, no matter what). Then he gingerly picked up the eggplant.

He took the tiniest bite and thought it was ok. He continued to take tiny bites. At this rate, it would take him a week to finish the eggplant.

Daddy got impatient. "Just put it in your mouth," he urged.

The boy frowned. Then he did as he was told. And then he gagged it out.

Hoping the experience didn't spoil his taste for eggplant, we explained that he would have to have another serving when we actually saw the movie. Maybe second time's the charm?

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