Spoiler-free Potter Post (REALLY spoiler-free. I don't mention any plot at all)

Dear Jo,

Your last book was, as were all the rest of the Potter books, brilliant. You followed your own rules and tied up all the loose ends, even those I didn't know were loose. The story was marvelous, the writing good, and the satisfaction level was excellent

Thank you. You rock.

Sincerely,

A fan called Pixie

(in other words, I finished it. I laughed. I cried. I enjoyed every moment. Basically, it was a Harry Potter book)

And, no, I will NOT tell anyone what happened. At all. I don't support spoilers -- only the occasional guess-fest with my fellow fans. But I have the answers now, so don't speculate with me. I will not share secrets OR confirm or deny suspicions. Go read it for yourself!

ps

I've put up a webpage for baby pics and updates. If you'd like the link and password, please email me :)

If I don't answer... (and a bonus baby pic)

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows should be here today. Or Monday. Mine isn't guaranteed in today, so I'm not going to hold my breath for fear of turning blue and passing out. But when it does arrive, I'm taking the book, the baby, a few toys and a big stack of fluffy-clean diapers and draping myself across the bed. Don't expect me to answer the phone. Don't expect meals from me. Don't expect me to care if someone is hurt, unless there's blood or a broken bone, of course; I can't entirely stop myself from being a mom, after all. Someone else will have to feed the pets. Someone else will probably even have to take the dog out (or clean up the puddles if they don't).

I'M reading Harry Potter.

When OoP came out, DC was about four months old. She played on the bed beside me, nursed, cuddled, napped, and stayed with me for most of the book. H-BP came out when she was a bit older, so I had to pause in my reading to fix food for her (and I needed strength for the Event I could see was going to come to pass). This time DC is on vacation with her dad. HB can handle getting himself a sandwich and some fruit. pesimst will be off tomorrow. And Tyranosaurus is just little enough to cuddle with all day long (I've found that reading outloud to him and playing peek-a-boo over the top of the cover can amuse him for HOURS).

So, if you try to find me, but I appear to have vanished, don't worry too much. I'll come back from the Wizarding World eventually. And I won't tell you a single thing that happens until you read the book for yourself!!!

Kitten Update

Just wanted to let everyone know that Foster has moved into a new home. He's one of those lucky few who found a family that will love him forever and ever and ever. I know he's safe and happy and will have his every need, and many wants, met instantly. Knowing that was the only way I could let him go.

And I know all of you who usually read this (all three or four of you, that is) know it already, but, in case there's a stranger who's popping in, SPAY AND NEUTER, PEOPLE. SPAY AND NEUTER.

I am eternally grateful for my beloved Miles (aka Piddles the Cat), Madame McFluff, The Kitchen Cat, Tiger, Gretchen, Anny, Creature of the Night, Kip the stupid howling Houdini, Dally, and many, many others who were at one time strays or born from strays, but NO ANIMAL should have to live like that. If every animal adopted this year and each year following were fixed, it would still be around 15 years before shelters started to have excess room. Kinda makes ya think, eh? No dog or cat should live without love (well, maybe the Kitchen Cat, but she's just a bitch).

Speaking of which, I hear KC and DC having an argument in the kitchen. I should probably get out there before the cat tries to eat the child or the other way around...

...As Time Goes By

Okay, so I'm a lazy. Not in actuality, but in blogging, I'm a lazy. A bad, bad, shameful lazy.

T-Sprout is getting to be a big, big boy. He's quickly living up to his Tyranosaurus nickname, as he weighed in at 12 lbs, 24 in before turning two months. He's a BIG sucker. I'm so proud of myself. My critical lack of sleep and a messy house are starting to pay off.

I swear all I do some days is nurse the baby, cook food for the big kids (all three, if you count the husbando), feed the pets and nurse the baby. Oh well, they're not little for too terribly long. Wait 'til he's two and I'll LONG for the days when he held still and nursed!

The pet population continues to grow around here. On the third, HB, pesimst, T-S and I went out to get in the car and run errands. There was a tiny "MEW!" A kitten! pesimst asked if it was a cat.

MEW!

No, dear. A KITTEN.

MEW!

I peered under the truck. He peered into the back of the truck. No kitten.

MEW!

It was IN the truck. As in, under the hood. Behind the fan.

MEW!

I coaxed.

MEW!

He coaxed.

MEW!

Still no kitten. Fine. Be that way. We ran errands. We came home.

MEW!

Okay, we must remove the kitten before the truck can be started.

MEW!

Tuna? Tuna's always a good cat-extractor.

MEW!!!

Still no kitten. Although its tiny black and white face did appear for a moment.

MEW!

Long story not quite so long, I finally got a hand on its scruff, dragged it free, carried it swiftly to the bathroom sink and washed the HELL out of it. Poor baby was covered in ticks, fleas, seed ticks, burrs and filthy car gunk.

He is, by far, the tiniest excuse for a cat I've ever seen. That is to say, for his age, he's BITTY. He's around 8 or 9 weeks (about the same age as T-Sprout) and about the size of a 5 or 6 week old. Cute, CUTE baby. Sweet as can be, incredibly, after all I put him through, bathing him twice and digging horrible, nasty, biting things off him.

His only injuries appear to be a bang on the nose and a burn on his chin. They're both healing quickly, and he's getting plump from an abundance of good food. His name?

Foster. Foster Resque.

He MUST find a new home soon, or I'm afraid I won't be able to part with him. Madame McFluff wishes the fan had gotten him. FF wishes we'd forcibly kidnap kittens more often. Kitchen Cat doesn't give a rat's ass, provided he doesn't get in her chair, eat her food or, heaven forbid, get between her and the water bowl.

So that's the latest from my (wildly untidy, kind of overgrown, going-back-to-the-wild) garden. If you're ever in this neck of the woods, stop by and say howdy. And bring chocolate and booze. Lots and lots of chocolate and booze....