Alarm goes off at seven and you start uptown...
I was going to do a full-out review of HP7 but I just realized how much I don’t really want to. I’m tired. There’s going to be five billion reviews and I know I’m going to be spending this work week chatting with friends about it. All I can really say for myself was that...
I felt like I was reading fanfiction. Same thing for the last book. In fact, I have read one Harry Potter fanfic and I get the canon and that fic mixed up all the time because… *looks around* I thought it was better than the real thing. There was no emotional impact for me for anyone who died. Fred, I loved. Nothing. Lupin. Nothing. That itself was just sort of a throwaway. “Hum dee dum dum… oh, ps. Moony’s ded, lolz.” In fact, the only one I felt any sadness towards was Hedwig.
And do not get me started on the fanficciness of that epilogue.Or the whole thing. Or the book before it too. I hoped in the back of my head that I somehow got a bootleg version of the book… that I didn’t have the real thing in my hands. Why oh why was that necessary? If we were to get an epilogue, I would have liked something that gave insight that the way the Wizarding government was run had changed. That after Voldy’s downfall, I wished . Or at LEAST said something of what happened within those nineteen years. That’s a bit of a gap. But no, we got to see who ended up with who and how many children they popped out. We didn’t even get to see what their JOBS were. FAILURE TO THE EXTREME.
So, in conclusion… I don’t know. I just wished we had seen some sort of outcome about some sort of strive for equality. Not a new shipping community between Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy.
This turned into something reviewish, didn’t it? If you’d like something more… check out the Cousbian’s review. Her points pretty much sum up my thoughts. ZOMG IT IS LIKE WE ARE ONE BRAIN.
Now, I had a bit of an awesome weekend. My parents were in town visiting my grandmother as well as my dad’s sister, so I went to Connecticut to go visit them Friday night after work. It’s so nice to get away from everything. From NYC, from the apartment, from the computer. Just quiet and lots of good food. I have become addicted to mashed potatoes mixed with white wine.
My grandmother and her husband are moving into an “assisted living” sort of place in September, so my parents, my aunt and I spent the weekend going through the drawers, cleaning, organizing and becoming extremely nostalgic in finding things. We stumbled upon my grandfather’s old coin collection. My aunt found her old horse tackbox complete with her saddle back when she rode horses.
But the whole weekend turned into a big reveal of how my cousins and I would treat my brother when we found my aunt’s horse collection.
When we were small, lostailors, her sister J., my brother Prince Miguel and I raided my aunt’s collection of Breyer horses whenever we’d visit our grandparents’ old house. We have pictures of us in the den (how much do I wish I had scans of those). Anyhoo, she had quite a few and they were organized into family groups. I had the palomino fam, lostailors had the white fam, J. had the gray fam, and Miguel had the brown fam. And us four grandkids would go play with them. Like so:
Now, Miguel, being the youngest and the only boy of the lot, had the brown family because they were the “reject” family. There was a giant fuzzy one, one that was jumping over a wall that was known as the “crazy uncle horse” because he couldn’t really stand on his own legs, and another brown one that just didn’t go at all. J.’s family also was sort of mismatchy as well, but she got quite a few horses lumped in with them, so it was all good.
This weekend, we discovered the box of old horses down in the basement, so obviously, I wanted to take a peak from my days of yore. And the first thing I find in it was this:
Isn’t it amazing what you DON’T remember from your childhood? I don’t recall a single one of these horse’s names, but the naming of the palomino fam (mine, of course) is spot on. The foal DEFINITELY looks like a Phillip and the mare is a Dixie. Go me!
So there was much discussion about the horses, and it came out that we treated Miguel poorly with his selection of horses. My parents went on and on about how awful we were to him. But it was very kind of Aunt Anne to allow us to take one as a reminder, because who knows where those figures will end up. I ended up texting Miguel if he wanted to take the crazy uncle horse, but he, being the mature age of twenty-one, laughed and said he could probably live without it. But he knew EXACTLY what I was talking about and it’s probably been something like thirteen years since we’ve played with those figures. So my little foal is now sitting on my dresser, along with some other things that I “inherited”. More on that later.
But this letter was left in the box on top of the horses. I seriously don’t remember it and neither does lostailors. I read it aloud to her last night and we spent the next fifteen minutes dying of laughter. And then I told her how I was being scolded throughout the weekend about how traumatized Miguel was when we were younger. It’s not OUR fault our family didn’t produce more boys! Or that they stopped with HIM.
Yeah, so inheritance. Like I said, they’re planning this big move and so my relatives have been popping in to help out. lostailors's parents came last April to do some organizing. There are different colored stickers dictating which piece of Grandma’s belongings is going where. Dad’s getting most of the Hawaiian and Asian artwork since our house in California has lots of that influence since Dad surfs and we lived in Hong Kong.
It felt sort of awkward that people were just grabbing things left and right, but by the end of the trip, I’d look at something and shout out “HEY GRANDMA, CAN I TAKE THIS?” I can understand where my mom is coming from. When her dad and her stepmom had to make that final move into an assisted living place, she wasn’t able to come out to help out and her step-siblings ended up getting rid of mostly everything, so my uncle (my mom’s real brother) and my mom lost almost everything that they wanted, including many things from her real mother, who died when she was 18. So many family heirlooms were lost. I don’t think she wanted the same thing to happen with my dad’s mom.
So yes. It doesn’t sound really like it, but lots of fun was had. There were a couple of open houses, so we were kicked out and went to hang out at the beach club. I read HP on the terrace and people watched between chapters. I will say, I’d like to think a good portion of the population was a little quieter that weekend. I mean, honestly. How many times do you think this many kids doing nothing else but READING THE SAME BOOK this weekend? In the SUMMER? I am always in favor for someone who can achieve that.
I felt like I was reading fanfiction. Same thing for the last book. In fact, I have read one Harry Potter fanfic and I get the canon and that fic mixed up all the time because… *looks around* I thought it was better than the real thing. There was no emotional impact for me for anyone who died. Fred, I loved. Nothing. Lupin. Nothing. That itself was just sort of a throwaway. “Hum dee dum dum… oh, ps. Moony’s ded, lolz.” In fact, the only one I felt any sadness towards was Hedwig.
And do not get me started on the fanficciness of that epilogue.Or the whole thing. Or the book before it too. I hoped in the back of my head that I somehow got a bootleg version of the book… that I didn’t have the real thing in my hands. Why oh why was that necessary? If we were to get an epilogue, I would have liked something that gave insight that the way the Wizarding government was run had changed. That after Voldy’s downfall, I wished . Or at LEAST said something of what happened within those nineteen years. That’s a bit of a gap. But no, we got to see who ended up with who and how many children they popped out. We didn’t even get to see what their JOBS were. FAILURE TO THE EXTREME.
So, in conclusion… I don’t know. I just wished we had seen some sort of outcome about some sort of strive for equality. Not a new shipping community between Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy.
This turned into something reviewish, didn’t it? If you’d like something more… check out the Cousbian’s review. Her points pretty much sum up my thoughts. ZOMG IT IS LIKE WE ARE ONE BRAIN.
Now, I had a bit of an awesome weekend. My parents were in town visiting my grandmother as well as my dad’s sister, so I went to Connecticut to go visit them Friday night after work. It’s so nice to get away from everything. From NYC, from the apartment, from the computer. Just quiet and lots of good food. I have become addicted to mashed potatoes mixed with white wine.
My grandmother and her husband are moving into an “assisted living” sort of place in September, so my parents, my aunt and I spent the weekend going through the drawers, cleaning, organizing and becoming extremely nostalgic in finding things. We stumbled upon my grandfather’s old coin collection. My aunt found her old horse tackbox complete with her saddle back when she rode horses.
But the whole weekend turned into a big reveal of how my cousins and I would treat my brother when we found my aunt’s horse collection.
When we were small, lostailors, her sister J., my brother Prince Miguel and I raided my aunt’s collection of Breyer horses whenever we’d visit our grandparents’ old house. We have pictures of us in the den (how much do I wish I had scans of those). Anyhoo, she had quite a few and they were organized into family groups. I had the palomino fam, lostailors had the white fam, J. had the gray fam, and Miguel had the brown fam. And us four grandkids would go play with them. Like so:
Now, Miguel, being the youngest and the only boy of the lot, had the brown family because they were the “reject” family. There was a giant fuzzy one, one that was jumping over a wall that was known as the “crazy uncle horse” because he couldn’t really stand on his own legs, and another brown one that just didn’t go at all. J.’s family also was sort of mismatchy as well, but she got quite a few horses lumped in with them, so it was all good.
This weekend, we discovered the box of old horses down in the basement, so obviously, I wanted to take a peak from my days of yore. And the first thing I find in it was this:
Isn’t it amazing what you DON’T remember from your childhood? I don’t recall a single one of these horse’s names, but the naming of the palomino fam (mine, of course) is spot on. The foal DEFINITELY looks like a Phillip and the mare is a Dixie. Go me!
So there was much discussion about the horses, and it came out that we treated Miguel poorly with his selection of horses. My parents went on and on about how awful we were to him. But it was very kind of Aunt Anne to allow us to take one as a reminder, because who knows where those figures will end up. I ended up texting Miguel if he wanted to take the crazy uncle horse, but he, being the mature age of twenty-one, laughed and said he could probably live without it. But he knew EXACTLY what I was talking about and it’s probably been something like thirteen years since we’ve played with those figures. So my little foal is now sitting on my dresser, along with some other things that I “inherited”. More on that later.
But this letter was left in the box on top of the horses. I seriously don’t remember it and neither does lostailors. I read it aloud to her last night and we spent the next fifteen minutes dying of laughter. And then I told her how I was being scolded throughout the weekend about how traumatized Miguel was when we were younger. It’s not OUR fault our family didn’t produce more boys! Or that they stopped with HIM.
Yeah, so inheritance. Like I said, they’re planning this big move and so my relatives have been popping in to help out. lostailors's parents came last April to do some organizing. There are different colored stickers dictating which piece of Grandma’s belongings is going where. Dad’s getting most of the Hawaiian and Asian artwork since our house in California has lots of that influence since Dad surfs and we lived in Hong Kong.
It felt sort of awkward that people were just grabbing things left and right, but by the end of the trip, I’d look at something and shout out “HEY GRANDMA, CAN I TAKE THIS?” I can understand where my mom is coming from. When her dad and her stepmom had to make that final move into an assisted living place, she wasn’t able to come out to help out and her step-siblings ended up getting rid of mostly everything, so my uncle (my mom’s real brother) and my mom lost almost everything that they wanted, including many things from her real mother, who died when she was 18. So many family heirlooms were lost. I don’t think she wanted the same thing to happen with my dad’s mom.
So yes. It doesn’t sound really like it, but lots of fun was had. There were a couple of open houses, so we were kicked out and went to hang out at the beach club. I read HP on the terrace and people watched between chapters. I will say, I’d like to think a good portion of the population was a little quieter that weekend. I mean, honestly. How many times do you think this many kids doing nothing else but READING THE SAME BOOK this weekend? In the SUMMER? I am always in favor for someone who can achieve that.