Thanks, Ms. Rowling.

All good things must come to an end, and tonight we say good-bye to Harry and Hermione and Ron. Luckily, I will still get to see my son through the reading of most of the books. My daughter will hold as tightly to this series as she does her much-loved puppy who now resembles some sort of sick-looking, once fluffy rag. But, indeed, it is hard to let go.

I have been thinking a lot about why this is such a big deal. At it's most basic, Harry Potter is a good series. By nature, I am not a fan of fantasy, but this series had characters whose insecurities I felt drawn to so much so that entering their magical work did not alienate me. That had never happened to me before. The fact that is well-written restores my faith in our culture when we collectively get on board with something that captivates us and engages our minds and is well-done. This isn't always the case with cultural phenomenons.

JK Rowling, whose journey is mind-blowing even to her, is just like one of us. She has been up front about how the story just "dropped into her head" on one of countless train rides. As a single mother on a train long ago, she kept at that story while pursuing more practical means of getting by. Yet she couldn't ignore what was in her heart and her head. Listening to the art that resides within us is a lesson we can all benefit from. Her situation, while singular in its enormity, speaks to the possibilities of what happens when you follow your those little inklings and ideas.

And of course, there are the countless lessons learned from Harry, Dumbledore, and company- far too many to list. But among the best is we truly we cannot underestimate the power of love. Trite as it may sound, Voldemort just doesn't understand that Harry's mother could have loved him enough to die for him. It is a feeling that he never experienced--true, untarnished, in-your-face love and serves as the ulitmate protection for Harry.

It might be over, but it won't be soon forgotten. Many of us will share Harry Potter with our kids and grandkids and in doing so, keep Hogwarts alive and well for years to come.

Channeling Erma....

I've always thought I was a bit snarky about kids and marriage until someone said I reminded them of Erma Bombeck (HUGE COMPLIMENT-thank you!). I remembered reading columns out of my mother's old Good Housekeeping magazines and finding them funny so I decided to check out some of her books. Among my favorite titles I found If Life's A Bowl of Cherries, Why Am I in the Pits?, Family: The Ties that Bind....and Gag, and A Marriage Made in Heaven or Too Tired for an Affair. I see that what I have to say is nothing new and that women, despite infinite leaps in progess towards equality and opportunities, have guilt wired into their DNA . No matter what the situation, we can and will find something to worry about with neither the time or energy to really figure it out. And if we are like Erma, we will be completely honest about it.

Erma obviously never worried too much about telling all. She survived/enjoyed/endured 40+years of marriage to the same man and made her living by telling the truth from her point of view. I am sure she must have been some sort of trail blazer by just putting it out there. I think in today's world, it can still be hard to be honest, especially about relationships. One particular point she makes is about arguing. Since Big Man and I don't agree on how to argue, I was particularly curious about what Erma had to say."There is something wrong with two people who agree to never disagree. I can say without a shred of modesty I have become quite good at arguing and expressing anger. How? Practice, practice, practice. I have engaged in some of the most dazzling war of words ever spoken in anger." I can relate to this. I feel brilliant and righteous and right when I am mad and this can make my voice boom and my articulation impeccable. How can something so spectacular be wrong? Live theatre at it's finest! But not everyone (Big Man) is comfortable doing that. I maintain that it's just another tool in helping our children communicate expressively. So far it appears we are doing well, and I take lots of credit for it. He is not buying it.

At least in reviewing some of Erma's pieces, I am comforted by the fact that things never have been,nor will they ever be, perfect. Couples don't always agree, children are rarely angelic when you need them to be, and housework truly is mundane. It hasn't just been me! Life and all of its craziness really does lie in the shades and shadows of gray. If we are lucky, we get a few glimpses of clarity, but most of the time we are muddling.

Erma was pretty up front about the lack of definitive answers. She concludes this same book by saying, " I wanted to end this book with a wonderful statement on how marriages work. I don't have a clue." And I like that a woman of her talent and longevitiy can share the same uncertainty that I have and tell the truth about it.

If you get the last laugh, you must have gotten the last roll.

How is it I can reside in house with 4 people for 10 years and be the only one who knows where we store toilet paper?

My kids don't hear me yelling because "Could you please bring me some toilet paper?" sounds no different than "The sky is falling!" or "Your room better be picked up before we leave for swimming practice!" or "Who wrote with a sharpie on fireplace?" It's all Peanuts-like to them, "wah, wah, wah".

But it is maddening. They have nerve to make exclamations with disgust--

"How come we are always out of toilet paper?"

"Gross! Moooooom!!"

"Where'd you put the toilet paper?"

Ok, alright. I will admit only 3 out of 4 of us really cares about this, but the fact remains that majority of us are seriously informed about its whereabouts. I am not the only one with this intimate knowledge, but it feels like it. And yet I never get the last laugh. Why is that?