gorgon

So this morning I go upstairs to say goodbye to Boy and tell him that Izzy should go out in the front yard with him when he has his morning cigarette. I walk into the master bath and he's standing there with this half-rueful, half-despairing expression on his face. He's completely dressed, except the belt he's wearing doesn't fit. The ends don't even meet. "You're wearing my belt," I told him. Man. The look of relief on his face. Remembering it makes up for the nine o'clock meeting this morning, but only because the meeting's already over.

I'm getting more and more obsessed with Harry Potter. I love Ron. Love, love, love. I've started rereading the books and am now up to chapter 10 of PoA, and I love Ron. Hermione, however, still gets on my nerves. I like the movie version of her better; she's not nearly as grating. Perhaps I dislike her so much because she reminds me of me at that age: kind of bossy, disapproving, a buttinsky (if I may be permitted to use a Felicity reference). It's kind of embarrassing to think of my childhood self. I must obviously try harder to love Hermione and thus love myself. Heal me, J.K. Rowling!
I'm thinking next Sunday must include the atheist's matinee of PoA. I'm so looking forward to this movie: Hermione's pink hoodie! Hermione punching Draco! Harry looking all serious and determined! Ron! Ron ron ron ron! Do me right, Alfonso. Treat Ron with the respect he deserves. He's brave and loyal and smart. He's not there for cheap comic ploys! He is a full and contributing member of the threesome!

Mmm. Color scheme makes me feel cozy. Another test.