How to Make a Day Suck

Wow, what a sh*tty day today turned out to be!

And for once, I hardly did anything wrong, so the thought of a day going that far south without my intervention kinda freaks me out.

Ya see, in an effort to structurize our lives, my wife likes to make charts and lists for us to follow, lest I deviate a smidgen and throw my existence into utter chaos. So, barring any medical emergencies, kidnappings, hangnails or other unforeseeable mishaps, Saturday is my day to take the lead in daughter-care.

So, a few days beforehand, she brought up the idea of us going to the zoo. I was like, “Yeah, super. Let’s do that this weekend!” ...figuring, you know, that she, like, knew how to get to the zoo and stuff. Turns out, she didn’t have Clue #1 as to how to get there (awesome!) and just kinda told me to map out our day, figure out what zoo we’d go to, get directions and make damn sure we were there at the ass-crack of dawn. Now, I'll pause from typing for just a sec to pat myself on the back because my life is chock full of awesomeness.

Okay, time for a fun fact: I hate mornings.

Always have.

Probably always will…

...but for my little girl, I’ll drag my dead ass out of bed at 5:00am and play games with enough sweetness to give Barney diabetes. This particular Saturday, however, I woke up to the wonderful sensation of my daughter slapping me in my eye orbit… at 10:00am!

Normally, when my daughter wakes up, it’s like five in the morning, so my wife will shake me and say, “Ariana’s awake.” That's the groggy dad's cue to turn on the fun machine and jam-pack her first two or three morning hours with books, games, giggles, hugs, food and everything else a growing girl needs.

Fine. No problem. Happy to do it.

But my wife woke me up at 10:00am, so my first thought was, “Wow, my wife actually did something nice for me by letting me sleep in a bit! This is sure to be a great day!”

Holy sh*t was I wrong!

Yes, she did let me sleep in, but then she went straight to blaming me for letting the morning go by without going to the zoo!

“But…. you let me sleep.”

Now, according to the woman to whom I swore I'd spend the rest of my life with no matter what, the whole day was somehow shot and I was the a**hole. Apparently, the world heads off for bed at 11:00am now? Well obviously, with my reckless late slumber, I'm clearly at fault here, right?

“But…. you let me sleep!!!”

She said, “Well, you said you were gonna get up early.”

I said, “Yeah, because I knew full well that if Ariana’s early morning screams didn’t do the trick, your foot up my asspipe most certainly would!”

Meanwhile, my wife was up early, so while I appreciated the extra Z’s, I really didn’t get why she didn’t just kick me out of bed like she does every other friggin’ Saturday. But undaunted, I was now up, amped and ready to see some vicious, caged beasts of the Serengeti.

Here’s where the real fun begins.

The night before August 18th (...which would be August 17th for the thought-impaired), my wife got a call from the mother of an old friend of hers. Before I go on, I should mention that we’re going to Brazil for my daughter’s first birthday party and my wife was nice enough to invite her friend’s little daughter.

So my wife's friend’s mother calls and asks if she can bring other people to this party. Now if you wanna split hairs here, this woman wasn’t even invited to the party - technically, her granddaughter was. So, it seems a bit forward on her part to not only assume she can come, but that she can also bring along a few other ass-clowns.

But, to my wife’s credit, she's always been cool about stuff like that, so she’s like, “Sure, the more the merrier.” My mother-in-law (...herein referred to as “Dalva” because I’m tired of typing out “mother-in-law”) got pissed because apparently, this same woman did one thing to piss her off, back in like, 1991 or whatever, and she never learned to just let it go. I won't get into what happened, but trust me when I tell you that, in my opinion, the "offense" was really not worth sixteen years of bitterness.

So, Dalva is still holding this grudge, but instead of putting things into perspective, she decides to freak us all out with acts of mental instability. Last night, my mother-in-law cried for like twelve hours solid, then today, my wife nearly canceled our zoo outing because her mother was muttering quasi-suicidal phrases or whatever.

You know. "Goodbye, cruel world" type of melodrama.

She claims to be this devout Catholic who loves the church and everything about it, yet she harbors long-standing grudges, intense jealousy and an apparent need to throw herself pity parties and otherwise hold her breath when things don't go her way. This is coming off as kinda harsh and I don't mean it to be, but it's tough to sugar-coat some of the behavior I've witnessed from her over these past couple of years.

Now with this last minute zoo cancellation, I already had my daughter strapped in her car seat, so I was mentally preparing myself to make this trip a solo endeavor (...just me and my little girl), because if I go to the trouble to map out an entire day, pack every essential baby item and someone pulls the rug out from under me at the eleventh hour.... f**k that.

You can watch me drive off into the sunset.

However, Dalva also had a last minute change of heart, decided to go to the zoo after all... and all four of us climbed into the car.

Now, if you have a chance, look up the word “fun” in the dictionary and you’ll almost certainly see a picture of the four of us in the car on our way to Dorchester’s famed Franklin Park Zoo.

Either that or you’ll see a picture of a man shredding his eyeball with a cheese grater and an olive fork dipped in lemon juice, because in my mind, the two experiences deliver about the same levels of giggles and pure glee.

The deadly tension between Dalva and her daughter made a nice little topping to the “Pissed-Off Commuter Traffic Nightmare” sundae I was trying to finish off as I dodged cars driven by drivers who might have actually had sh*ttier lives than me at the time.

So, we get there, grab our cameras and, yes, the missus and I are having a grand ol’ time, pointing out animals to our daughter. Meanwhile, Dalva’s got her “Goin’ to the gallows” face on, but we're just kind of ignoring all that. Bear in mind that all of this negativity stems from my wife's sole act of granting permission to a woman to come to our daughter’s first birthday party and bring a couple of friends.

This party isn't even happening for another four frickin' months!

Speaking of our little bundle of joy, she’s awesome, but she’s 8 ½ months old now, so Ariana intermingles smiles and cries with giggles and whining. This is partly due to her growing attachment to her mom, partly due to her desire to play with daddy’s expensive gadgets and partly because she’s still teething. Yet, she loved the animals and stared at them with a wide-eyed fascination.

Plus, we actually got to witness (up-close) a butterfly emerging from its cocoon! How awesome is that?

In that regard… and that regard alone… the day was a success. After all, these trips aren’t about the amount of fun we adults can have, but about expanding the young and thirsty minds of our children.

My wife was eager to leave because she had things she wanted to get done in our house, so we packed it in not long before five. Dalva looked about as happy as a poison oak and erythematous syphilis double-header... and my wife’s patience was wearing thin. Naturally when this happens, I tend to catch hell, but fortunately for me, she kept the husband-bashing to a minimum.

At least until I got lost coming home and unknowingly went down a restricted street.

This street, which gave no indication that it was restricted, wound up getting me into hot water with the Boston Police. Five cops are on the sidewalk chatting… at a spot right after the street goes from being publicly accessible to restricted. So, Joe Dragnet comes sauntering over to me and b*tches me out for driving on this road. Bear in mind, a car that was right in front of me went through this same street without catching sh*t from anybody, but I get pulled over.

I looked in my rearview mirror and three other cars made the same “mistake” that I made. I said, “What about these guys behind me?” He said, “They’re wrong too... and we’re ticketing them. License and registration, please.”

Naturally, my first thought was of the, “You gotta be f**king kidding me!” variety. Neither my wife nor I noticed any such signs or indicators that this road was restricted, but she was still kinda pissed at me for getting tangled up with Dunkin Donut’s finest.

In typical self-righteous fashion, Doughboy comes back over to me and hands me a “warning,” telling me that it’s normally a fifty dollar citation and that I should be thankful for his clemency.

I'll take this moment to express my appreciation for his humanitarianism:

“Hey, Numbnuts! How about a few f**king traffic cones or a “Do Not Enter” sign if you’re serious about keeping us dangerous criminals off of this street? Maybe you can spare a few bucks from the “Dig Up My F**king Streets for No Reason Whatsoever” fund and buy a few festive orange cones! How about that?”

I really loathe cops sometimes.

Anyway, in a last-ditch effort to smooth out the jagged shards of our day, the wife suggested we go to church that evening instead of waiting for Sunday. Everybody agreed, so we went.

Did it work?

Not really.

It did, however, seem like it was starting to work and that Dalva might actually get over this earth-shattering “Birthday Invitation” incident, but by the time the mass was over, she was every bit as quiet and sullen as she’d been for the entire day.

My wife’s response?

Complaining to me that my radio channel-surfing was preventing our daughter from falling asleep at 9:00pm. Bear in mind that I had the radio on the first volume setting so that turning it even one notch below would have muted it.

Yet, that’s what was keeping her up.

Not the seven micronaps she took throughout the day as she sweltered in the “Fun Car.”

No, it was me... the Radio Whisperer.

So, to eschew more ridiculousness, I turned off the radio and hoped that my oxygen inhalation wouldn’t be the other thing keeping her up. After all, lungs are f**king loud with all of that ridiculous breathing they do all day and night, aren't they?

I undoubtedly come off as a total d*ckhead with this story because I’m sure it looks like I’m just bashing my mother-in-law for sh*ts and giggles. The truth is, however, that this has become a noticeable pattern with her and Dalva's entire world seems to crumble over the slightest little thing.

Quick Side Story: Wanna hear what I did the last time she put me on her sh*tlist? I washed a cup for my daughter. Yes, you read that right, so I’ll retype it and let it sink in a bit before I continue.

I WASHED A CUP!

This simple act on my part earned me almost a full week in Dalva’s dog house. And she wasn’t just pissed at me. The pisstivity was academic. No, she initially responded to my reckless act of aggression with a sobfest in the bathroom. Later that night, my wife talked to her (…on my behest because I wanted to know who I unwittingly murdered to earn such a response) and as Dalva responded to her, she loudly mixed her words with high-pitched sobs.

Let me back up here to remind everybody what set this all off:

I WASHED A CUP!

As it turns out, she had already washed it and filled it with water for Ariana. Earlier that morning, I had seen this exact same cup filled with water that’d been sitting there for days. As a responsible father, my instinct was to dump the water, wash the cup and refill it with fresh water for my little girl.

Somehow, in some cosmic way, Dalva interpreted that act as me saying, “I don’t trust you enough with my daughter’s overall health and well-being.” My response was simple and staggeringly true:

“My bad. I didn’t know you’d already washed and refilled the cup.”

This explanation should have EASILY quelled any doubts as to my intentions, but my mother-in-law cried... and cried... and CRIED. Yet, believe it or not, I trust her completely with caring for my daughter because I’ve seen her with Ariana and she’s amazing. The care and love that she gives my daughter should be filmed and used as educational videos for nannies.

Seriously. She's that good. And when she's with Ariana, Dalva is perfectly calm, at ease and emotionally fit.

Yet, every so often, Dalva will wig out on us and it’s so hard to get inside her head without a compass, a roadmap and a secret decoder pin. Yesterday was about how my wife wronged her, but God only knows what tomorrow might bring.

For all I know, I might wind up inadvertently sending my mother-in-law into a tsunami of tears by scratching my earlobe.

Oh, hey look! Satan just sent me an e-mail:

__________________________________

Subject: August 18^th

Hey, Bill:

So, how’d you like the day I sent you today?

Satan

__________________________________

Re: August 18^th

Satan:

The butterflies were cool. Everything else bit. You suck.

Bill <")))><

P.S.: Jesus kicked your red ass, you know it, so deal with it, give me back my rainbow and stay the hell off of my television!

The Return of Def Leppard

Well, we did it!

My wife and I finally went to a concert together. I know. Not exactly a monumental accomplishment, right? But it just seemed a bit weird that, with all of the stuff we’ve done together in our four years of marriage (plus our nine months of dating), we’ve never done the concert thing.

We’ve hit a few states, traipsed through a couple of countries, been to the circus, done the four major sports (Celtics Basketball, Red Sox Baseball, Bruins Hockey and Patriots Football) seen David Copperfield, taken in some wrestling (Raw & Smackdown), been to a pay-per-view (Backlash in Worcester) and even sat in the front row for WrestleMania XIX in Seattle.

Going to a concert was the one thing I had yet to do with her... at least that was the case until August 11, 2007. I scored a pair of concert tickets as a gift for our four year wedding anniversary, but I wasn’t about to blow money on just any concert. It had to be a concert that I had a reasonably good feeling I’d love and that she’d also enjoy, so I went with one of my favorite bands of all time:

Having been to two of their concerts in the past, I knew that Def Leppard delivered a kick-ass live show, so I figured it was a safe bet. Sure, they might be a group of five dudes pushin’ 50, but they can still rock the house. Once in a while, my nephew would give me sh*t about being a Def Leppard fan, but I didn't mind. He has his own tastes in music and, frankly, I think he was a bit quick to dismiss them as just another glam rock band. In a world where most rock bands will lose you in guitar distortion, Def Leppard always had a crisp and clear sound. To the naysayers, I say mock all you want, but it might surprise you to know that Def Leppard is one of only six rock bands with two original albums selling over ten million copies each in the United States. Here are the other five:

• Eagles
• Van Halen
• Pink Floyd
• The Beatles
• Led Zeppelin

Okay, back on-topic.

Knowing that this was my wife’s first American concert, I paid close attention to her reactions and I was happy to see that she was really enjoying herself. Foreigner and Styx opened for Def Leppard at the Tweeter Center (Mansfield, MA) and maybe it’s just me, but even at the height of their popularity, I could never have imagined saying, “Hey, I’m gonna go to the Foreigner concert!”

Yet, I’ll give both bands credit. Neither of them sucked like I inherently imagined they would.

It was one of those situations where they’d belt out a song and I’d be like, “Oh yeah. I know that one! Hmm, Foreigner sings that one? Who knew?” When Foreigner played hits like, “Hot Blooded,” “Juke Box Hero” and “Feels Like the First Time,” I was like, “Wow, and here I thought they’d only play, “Waiting for a Girl Like You” and be gone.”

Foreigner went first so presumably, Styx was the bigger name of the two openers, right? Yet, I recognized far fewer of their songs (...though my wife seemed to actually prefer Styx). What can I say? I was never a huge Styx fan. Apparently, Styx will be touring with Def Leppard for the entire tour, but Foreigner will only appear at some of their shows.

As for me, well, beyond “Come Sail Away,” I was pretty much lost… and kinda anxious for Styx to leave the stage. What was funny was that, aside from the ENORMOUS “Styx” banner in front of our eyes, my wife thought they were the main band of the evening. She really liked their songs and was impressed with the way they dressed. I responded by saying, “I can’t speak for what they’re gonna wear, but just wait until Def Leppard comes out. Then, you’ll really see a show!”

Sure enough, they saved all of the cool and brightly lit screens for Def Leppard’s performance; screens that had remained hidden and unused for Foreigner and Styx. Def Leppard opened with “Rocket” and the huge screens behind them played out an elaborately animated video of a rocket racing by images of the band, sexy women, their album covers, etc. It's hard to describe, but in a way, the huge screens actually seemed to give new life to these tried and true classics. For the first time, I actually understood the appeal of music videos. They just seemed to make the songs more explosive. It's the only way I can think to describe it.

At the risk of sounding cliché, you just hadda be there.

My wife was pleasantly surprised to discover just how many of their songs she actually knew. Plus, she had an opportunity to swoon a bit when Phil Collen and Vivian Campbell took their shirts off (…it’s such a staple in their act that I barely noticed it until she pointed it out to me). I’ll give them credit. For a couple of virtual fifty year olds, they’re still in phenomenal shape.

Joe Elliott (the lead singer) has almost always looked like unadulterated, broken ass, but he’s still fairly slim in his own right. Can’t say the same for his face, but if you’re a true Def Leppard fan, you only care if they can still play… and without a doubt, they can.

Rick Savage (bass) is slim as well, but that’s the only thing he’s got going for him at this point. In the glam rock eighties, he fit in well and was the object of lust for many a female fan. Now, he looks like an cracked-out old woman with big bug eyes. It kinda creeped me out, but here again, he can still play, so who cares, right?

You really couldn't see Rick Allen (drums) and, like I said, Vivian and Phil (lead guitars) still looked good for their age. I was bummed out about one thing, though. In the past, you couldn’t bring cameras to these shows, so for fear that I’d have mine confiscated, I left it at home. Turns out, however, that plenty of people brought digital cameras and nobody gave a rat’s ass, so I have no pictures to share, outside of the one I pulled off the web that gives you an idea as to what the stage looked like.

I’ll keep this camera-less experience in mind for the next time they’re in town (...assuming they come back). Until then, Def Leppard can rejoice in the knowledge that they gained a brand-new fan on August 11, 2007… and she’s more than up for another concert if they do come back.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - My Review

SPOILER WARNING: If you haven’t read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and do NOT want to know what happens, stop reading this blog. I will also talk about several of the other Harry Potter books, so the same rule applies.

Well, now that the madness surrounding the seventh book has subsided a bit, I feel it’s safe to write about it without having a hit put out on me. For the first time that I can recall, serious leaks sprung in the days before the release of the seventh and final Harry Potter book. This, of course, means that the culprits responsible for giving away details of the story... are dead.

Clinically.

Like, “No longer amongst the living” type of dead.

It’s practically a felony at this point to finagle one’s way into releasing details of the book to the public before the publisher’s release date. I’ll admit that I spoiled it for myself by reading one such leak, which gave a detailed account of the “Deathly Hallows” deaths, as well as the end of the book.

One more warning before I proceed: I’m gonna talk about some of those deaths as well as what happens at the end of the book, so if you really don’t want to know, stop reading this.

I'll talk about the deaths first.

A few years back, I read about this group of outraged parents who were up in arms shortly after the release of the fourth book (Goblet of Fire). The concerned parents were mad because their children were reading about extreme violence and death before they felt they were ready to deal with such dark themes.

The fifth book (Order of the Phoenix) brought about the death of Sirius Black which saddened readers because of what Sirius meant to Harry.

The sixth book (Half-Blood Prince) revealed the death of Albus Dumbledore, which saddened readers because they loved and idolized him.

For a year or so after the sixth book’s release, people even began theorizing how Dumbledore could still conceivably be alive, much the same way that people kept seeing Elvis in grocery stores and shopping malls after he died. I don't know, it seems like many folks have a hard time letting go of people they idolize and love.

Well, without a doubt, “Deathly Hallows” has the most character deaths of any other Harry Potter book and, at certain points, it feels as if they’re dropping like flies. Hedwig (Harry’s owl) and Mad-Eye Moody meet their ends in the “Seven Potters” ambush, but that happens relatively early in the book to give readers an idea as to what they can expect from the remainder of the story.

Scrimgeour’s next to meet his end, followed by Wormtail and Dobby the elf. The real tragedies, however, start hittin’ near the end of the book, beginning with Fred Weasley’s death during the Battle at Hogwarts. I can imagine that anyone who reads and loves the Harry Potter books must have felt horrible for the beloved Weasley family. It may sound stupid (...and in a way, it kinda is), but people really, really get into these books and they treat these characters as if they actually exist.

For years now, Rowling (the author) has received many pleas for clemency to be granted to certain characters. Concerned fans have actually begged her not to kill Dumbledore… or Harry… or Hagrid… or Ron Weasley, etc. It’s crazy! You'd think they were asking her not to shoot their mothers or something.

One event that I kind of expected and was surprisingly apathetic towards was the death of Severus Snape. Obviously, he’s been a hated character since the very first book (Sorcerer’s Stone), but every so often, you kinda got the feeling that, deep down, he was fighting for the good guys... and by Book 7, you realize that he was. However, I felt the author did a good job at finding ways to make you hate him all over again, just when your heart started to soften a tiny bit.

By the end of the sixth book, people loathed Snape more than ever because of the fact that he killed Dumbledore, yet I still had respect for his character’s formidable skills as a wizard as well as Occlumency master. Amazingly enough, it only took one chapter to completely vindicate Snape (Chapter 33). Voldemort, thinking that Snape’s death will make his wand invincible, orders Nagini to make the kill. Right before succumbing to Nagini’s deadly bite, Snape removes the truth from his memory (via wand extraction) and gives it to Harry. Harry, having spent loads of time in the Pensieve, knows exactly where he needs to go and what he needs to do.

He downloads the info into the Pensieve and with that, we learn more of Snape’s love for Lily Potter (and how he wanted Voldemort to spare her life on that fateful night that Harry got his scar). More importantly, we learn of Snape’s true allegiance to Dumbledore. We learn that Dumbledore’s blackened hand from the Horcrux wasn’t just an unfixable injury, but also an incurable curse (not unlike a cancer).

Dumbledore’s days were numbered and, before long, he came up with the plan to have Severus Snape kill him. Best of all, when Dumbledore reveals to Snape that Harry Potter must die in the end, Snape actually seems hurt by the idea. By the end of the sixth book, I was fairly certain that Snape’s vindication would come, but it’s always nice to read it for yourself.

If there was one part of the seventh book that I felt was lacking, it was the romance aspect. Not because I’m a sap or I somehow feel the need to see everybody hooking up, but because of the frustrating ten year build up.

Yes, the seventh book reveals that Ron and Hermione wind up together, as do Harry and Ginny, but it was such a non-event that I’m sure the die-hard romantics were left a little disappointed. Typically, any romantic scenarios that occurred in the Harry Potter books were always stunted in some fashion. Every possible confession of love that could have occurred in these books was always interrupted, but it was clear that they would eventually HAVE to be addressed.

Without a doubt, Ron wears his love for Hermione on his sleeve in “Deathly Hallows.” He’s extremely protective of her and he damn near lays an egg when the Cruciatus Curse hits Hermione at Malfoy Manor. There’s even a scene where a Horcrux, in a last-ditch effort to stop Ron from destroying it, audibly voices all of Ron’s inner feelings, trepidations and fears regarding how Hermione feels about him.

Ron hears Hermione’s voice (faked, of course) telling him how she could never love him when Harry is around and Ron even winds up seeing an image of Harry and Hermione in a passionate embrace. It is there that Harry, having seen all of this, quells all doubts about his feelings for Hermione (...she’s like a sister to him), thus letting Ron know that the field’s clear if he wants her.

Obviously, Hermione cares very much for Ron as well, evident by the fact that he’s got the power to hurt her more deeply than anybody else ever could (...evidence of this started appearing with the Yule Ball in Goblet of Fire). So, after six books of amorous tension between Ron and Hermione, readers pretty much said that they NEED to hook up. So, do Ron and Hermione end up together? Yes. But here’s how it went down.

It’s Chapter 31 (The Battle of Hogwarts) and, if you’re reading from the American hardcover version, it’s on Page 625. It reads like this:

There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.

“Is this the moment?” Harry asked weakly, and when nothing happened except that Ron and Hermione gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, he raised his voice. “OI! There’s a war going on here!”

Ron and Hermione broke apart, their arms still around each other.

“I know, mate,” said Ron, who looked as though he had recently been hit on the back of the head with a Bludger, “so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

That’s pretty much it.

Harry snaps them out of their mutual reverie and the battle continues.

The next mention of Ron and Hermione together (as a couple) doesn’t happen until the Epilogue which is set nineteen years following the downfall of Voldemort. So, for all of the hopeless romantics out there, yes they do get together, wind up getting married and have two kids (Rose and Hugo). However, it’s mentioned so matter-of-factly that it’s extraordinarily anti-climactic. There’s no lover’s dialogue, no confessions of undying love, etc.

After seven books and, like, a DECADE of building up the tension between Ron and Hermione, the only sensible ending would have involved much more dialogue between the two as a payoff for readers who'd been waiting so long for the tension to break.

As for Harry’s love interest (Ginny), they wind up together as well and also are mentioned as being married in the epilogue, again in an anti-climactic fashion. Plus, they have three kids with the most unoriginal names EVER:

Lily, James and Albus Severus.

You also learn from the Epilogue that Neville Longbottom is now “Professor” Longbottom at Hogwarts and, not surprisingly, he’s the Herbology professor. Draco (who has a son named Scorpius) is on good terms with Harry, Ron and Hermione and, as the last line of the book indicates, all is well.

One of the things I really liked about the seventh book was how the Malfoy family came around. The long and the short of it is that, in the end, Narcissa and Lucius cared more about the well-being of their son than of their allegiance to Voldemort. Given Voldemort’s crappy treatment of the Malfoys in “Half-Blood Prince” and “Deathly Hallows,” it should come as no surprise that they’d desert Voldemort in the end.

At a point after he hit Harry with a killing curse, Voldemort asked someone to check and make sure that Harry Potter was really dead. Narcissa felt that Harry still had a pulse, but instead of screaming that he was still alive, she whispered to Harry and asked if Draco was still alive, to which Harry whispered back, “Yes.” Then, Narcissa announced that Harry was dead (...presumably as a thank you for that little nugget of info on her son).

I also thought it was a nice touch (albeit surprising) that the Malfoys were in Hogwarts, sitting with Draco when all was said and done. I honestly thought that Narcissa and Lucius would have been killed in the seventh book.

And now, onto Horcruxes. I’m proud to say that I was actually right for once in two of my Horcrux guesses, stemming from the sixth book. The big mystery by the end of “Half-Blood Prince” was, “What and where are the other Horcruxes?”

A Horcrux, as Harry Potter fans will know, is a receptacle in which a dark wizard can hide a part of his soul for the purpose of gaining immortality. Voldemort found a way to cleave his soul into seven pieces and stash them in various relics scattered throughout the country (...one of them even made it to Albania).

Dumbledore had suffered a serious injury to his hand in “Half-Blood Prince” after finding and destroying the Horcrux which was Marvolo Gaunt’s ring. The injury, as we find out in Book Seven, would have eventually killed Dumbledore had he not already arranged to have Snape snuff him out.

Between Harry’s ability to speak Parseltongue, his constant visions of Voldemort’s thoughts and even Nagini’s actions, I figured that both Nagini and Harry were Horcruxes. This turned out to be correct.

The downside to this final book was that Harry, Ron and Hermione spent way too much book time hiding as they tried to come up with ideas as to where the other Horcruxes were hidden. Aside from that, it was interesting to learn that Gaunt’s Ring was also one of the three Deathly Hallows; the others being the Elder Wand and Harry’s very own invisibility cloak.

Speaking of the Hallows, the other thing I found interesting was that Draco Malfoy unwittingly became master of the Elder Wand after disarming Dumbledore in the sixth book. Harry then goes on to become the Elder Wand’s new master after taking it from Draco, which is how he is able to defeat Voldemort once and for all. The book had given a decent explanation of how the wand wouldn’t really work for Voldemort the way he wanted because he never “won” the wand. Voldemort actually raids Dumbledore’s tomb to steal it.

The only thing that wound up confusing the hell out of me was the Epilogue and that was only because I had that one and only chapter to retrain my brain to put new identities on names I’d gotten to know throughout the seven books. Hugo and Rose I was fine with, but all of Harry’s kids had names that I had forever associated with other people.

Albus Severus was the worst, of course, being a mix of Dumbledore’s first name and Snape’s first name respectively. Then, of course, there were Lily and James, which were also the names of his parents. If memory serves me correctly, James is also Harry Potter’s middle name. I was surprised that the boy’s name wasn’t James Sirius Potter and the girl’s name wasn’t Lily Luna Potter or something f**ked up like that.

But all of that aside, it’s nice to know that the Harry Potter frenzy is pretty much over. Next on J.K. Rowling’s list of things to do will be to compile a Harry Potter Encyclopedia, but according to her, that won’t happen for quite a number of years to come. Sounds like she could really use a vacation.