I read. I saw. I almost cried.

Just in case you've been living under a rock for the past week, you might not have heard the big news. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows Part 2 was released at midnight this morning. It's the last movie to be released with the seven book series. All together, there were 8 movies, even though there were 7 books. The last book was so big and so epic that they divided it into two. And let me tell ya, this new one was well worth the wait.
But I'll get back to that in a moment.
For me, this whole Harry Potter culture is more about the books than the movies. I started reading the books shortly after a lot of people younger than me were reading them. The first book was released in 1998, when I was 12 years old. I remember my younger brother actually started reading them first and I really didn't have any interest in the series. As I've said before, I was always interested in historical fiction. I remember thinking that Harry Potter was just a silly, mythical children's book, so why waste my time reading a book that couldn't have even happened?
Boy, was I wrong.
One night, I picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in our den upstairs. I started reading the first line and I started to get a little curious.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense."
As I was reading, I thought, "Who are Mr. and Mrs. Dursley? How do they tie into this whole 'Potter' thing? I kept reading. And reading more. I was hooked.
They were just so well written. Being as I'm not a creative writer, I was amazed at the world that J.K. Rowling had created. She had dreamed up a whole language, an underworld, and even a candy shop. There were giants, dragons, and house elves. The characters each had their own quirks and while they seemed strange in the "real world," they were accepted in this wizard world. The stories each had a quest and the twists and turns of each quest made them even more exciting. And as each book progressed, they also tied in with each other. Then, there was Quidditch — a whole wizard sport. Rowling just never ceased to amaze me with her characters, story lines, and side characters. She had done something that few writers can do in their lives — she had created a classic, and not just one book, but a whole classic series. It will be able to stand the test of time because the series doesn't discuss HD television, cell phones, or computers. As some have said before, it's the Wizard of Oz of our day.
Now, back to the movies... I really didn't want to see the first movie because I knew it would ruin what I thought of the book. The characters I imagined would have faces now. And the places I dreamed may not be as they are in my mind.
Once again, I was wrong. The movies were done quite well, despite leaving out a few great lines. But this morning's movie — the last one — was fantastic. It was an event, not just another night at the movie.
Tickets for the movie went on sale across the country about a month ago, though they weren't available in my area until a couple weeks ago. The fella bought the tickets online, so we were sure to get in the door. We debated not going to the midnight show. I mean, we are both adults with Monday to Friday jobs. The only people who go to midnight shows are people who can sleep away their Friday, which we could not do. We eventually decided, 'To hell with it,' and bit the bullet for the midnight show.
So on Thursday, once we got off work, we ate some pizza and took about a three hour nap. Then, it was time to head to the Rave in West Little Rock.
The line to get into the theater was wrapped around the building. There were kids dressed up. The television stations were there. It was definitely more than just a movie opening.
We got our tickets at the door and actually were able to walk right in the door because we had the 3D tickets. That certainly was worth the extra money to see 3D.
Each screen in the theater was named after a place in Harry Potter. Instead of having "Harry Potter" on the electronic sign, each sign was a HP location, such as Grimmwauld Place, Shrieking Shack, etc. On a posted on a wall in the theater, someone had painted, "Her body will lie in the chamber forever," a nod to the second movie. Very cool.
We had prime pick of our seats since we were there so early and didn't have to wait in line. We sat next to some young girls who were dressed up with their moms, who were also dressed up. Oh to be young again, haha.
Finally, the movie started. The audience clapped at key moments during the movie. I almost cried at one moment. And at the end, we all clapped again. Because the movie was over, and the series was over. There would be no midnight release of books. There were no more movies to watch. HP Fans had seen the HP actors grow up as we grew up. And now, we all had to part ways, though we could always return to the Weasley House or Diagon Alley in our imagination. The world would always be between the pages, which were so beautifully written by Rowling. I can't wait to experience Harry Potter again with my own children.
Until then, "Mischief Managed."

Recent things I've learned

1. Most of the bookmarks on my work computer are recipes that I found on food blogs. It's not that I sit around and look for food blogs to read, I just stumbled upon them while awaiting a call back. Apparently, this food blog thing is HUGE and I'm kind of glad I don't have one. There are a lot of elements that I think make a great food blog, such as good photography, correct recipes, and a enticing end product. I think posting about my recipe accomplishments via Facebook is good enough. This blog is definitely my favorite, by far. I'm going to make one of her recipes this weekend. What recipe, you ask? Chocolate covered beer marshmallows. (The cake on the food blog in the picture is the recipe for my mom's birthday cake, which will be finished on Sunday.)

2. When driving around the region, I know where a lot of the softball fields are located. Within the past six months, I've been on Interstate 40, Interstate 540, Interstate 30, and everywhere in between. Through all of that traveling, I could recollect playing softball at a number of the small towns along those interstates; and some of them I could tell you the exit. Those fields may not be there anymore, but I do know that some of my favorite memories of growing up have been spent on those fields or around those fields.

3. I think about mass communication a lot. I think about studies that could be done quite often, not that I'm going to do them anytime soon. For example, have you noticed there are more single dads in commercials now? I wonder how that has changed in the last 10 years? And have you ever noticed how many male voices are on the radio? I wonder how much radio time is consumed by male voices. Obsessed a little? Maybe. I blame grad school. I miss being in class this summer. Remind me of that when I blog in the fall about not wanting to be in class.

 
4. I don't know how to read for fun.  In the last 10 years, most of the books I've read have been for school. In the summer, I read books based upon other people's recommendations, or whatever Harry Potter book had just been released. But now, I'm out of school (nearly), J.K. Rowling has stopped producing Harry Potter books, and some of my friends don't have the same reading tastes as I do. I'm a big fan of fictional history. I've been reading the stuff since I was a kid. When most girls were reading The Babysitter's Club, I was reading The American Girl series, which is American history told through the eyes different girls. I always liked reading the back of the book because it included the true facts about the time period of the book. I never read the Judy Blum books or anything along those lines. I read about the Holocaust, the Civil War and the Revolutionary War. These things were real — and they just made more sense. Reading the Harry Potter books was a big stretch for me. So now what should I read? Books I want to get my hands on this summer include; The Help, The autobiography of an execution, and The lost city of Z. So if you have these books from the Central Arkansas Library System, please return them so I can check them out. Thanks.

5. Being a grown up is hard. Do you remember when you thought that being a grown up would be cool? It's not nearly as cool as I thought it would be. Sure, driving your own car is cool; but putting gas in said car is not cool. And getting to come and go as you please to your own place is pretty rad. But paying for that place, and making sure that place has modern amenities takes some money. Luckily, I have a job that can be exciting, especially when you get to stand about 10 feet away from Kaley Cuoco (aka the hot girl on The Big Bang Theory), so paying those bills isn't as soul-straining as it might be for other people. Life would just be a lot more fun if those bills were all paid for and the car never ran out of gas. I want to live in the world. Oh, I know what that place is called — childhood. Damn.

It's growing! It's growing!

Not too long ago, I posted the initial pictures of my garden that grows in pots. Well kids, those little plants have grown like crazy and they are now producing. All of that care, water and sunshine has worked, along with some organic fertilizer pellets. I think this may be the start of a new love.

Here are the blooms and tiny tomatoes that have recently sprung up on my tomato plants. Both plants in the pots on the ground are blooming, and I have three tiny tomatoes on the Sun Gold Hybrid, which will produce little tiny orange-red fruit. I forgot to take the suckers off the tomato plants, so my plants have turned into bushes. This could be an interesting experiment since most garden experts recommend trimming off the suckers. The hanging tomatoes are still growing; but they haven't bloomed yet.

But the real excitement in the garden is my pepper plants, as seen below.

 

Look at how big those peppers are! They're not quite ripe yet though, as some of them are suppose to be red, though some of them might be green. I should go back and check the labels to see what color they should be. 

And of course, I can't forget the herbs.

 

Basil! And it smells delicious. 

Cilantro. I think I might have to harvest some of this soon.

Here is the overall picture of the garden.

 

The garden gnomes have done a great job with these plants. 

In Memory

When you get a text message and the sender tells you to call them as soon as possible, and then when you text back, and they don’t reply, you know something is wrong.

This is what happened to me three years ago. I received a text message and a phone call that I never expected to receive – a text message and phone call that I never wanted to receive.

The text message was from my former college newspaper editor. The phone call was from my newspaper advisor. They both had to tell me the same thing – one of my best friends, David Scott Berry, had been killed in a car wreck.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to react. I couldn’t sit down and cry. I couldn’t run off and hug his parents and be at his funeral. When I received the phone call, and then later returned it, I was walking through the Atlanta Airport with my family, getting ready to board another plane that would take us to Fort Lauderdale, where we would eventually board a cruise ship for the next five days. I was on my way to paradise.

But reality had just hit me hard and fast before I could leave. Reality is a bitch like that.

I managed not to think about Scott for the next few days because I know he would have wanted me to enjoy myself in the exotic locations where we traveled. When I came back, I started to deal with the fact that this name in my cell phone was now just a name, and I would never hear the voice again at the other end of the line.

I hated that I couldn’t go to his funeral. I never got to hug his mom and tell her she raised an amazing son. I was never able to meet his sister who he spoke about fondly. I didn’t get to properly say good bye.

I tried, though. I wrote his mother a letter when I came back, telling her some of my favorite memories of Scott. I don’t know if she ever got the letter, but it helped me in writing it.

Then, a week or so later, I was driving home late one night, listening to the Rent soundtrack, and I just started crying. One night that I was at Scott’s, he cooked me dinner while this soundtrack played in the background. It was such a fun night. He was trying to impress me with his cooking skills. I was just enjoying his company. I still make green beans sometimes like he made that night.

The rest of that summer, I was alright for the most part, but the worst was yet to come.

When I returned to school that year, that’s when I finally started to realize that he would never again walk into the newspaper office.

I had earned the position as editor after my many years of working on The Arka Tech. Scott was the editor for most of the time that I worked on the paper. We used to joke about how when I was editor, he was going to come in and help me with pages; he was our clutch. But that night, the first night I had to lay out pages, I began to comprehend that he wasn’t going to walk through the doors of the StuPub, pull up a rolling chair, and ask me what he could do to help. He wasn’t going to come in and joke about Tommy and Dr. Norton, or Ryan; he was really gone. And it was horrible. We ran a story in our first paper that year about Scott’s death and I couldn’t even write the headline for it. I wrote in the headline box, “I can’t write this,” and just left for the night with tears running down my face. That was never my office. That was Scott’s office.

It was in that office that I first met Scott Berry. It was in that office that we first became friends.  It was in that same office where we ate Pizza Pro Pizza on late nights, and where we hung out with Bailey. He taught me page lay-out in that office. It was in that office that we met before heading out on our first date. It was outside that office that nearly a month later, I told Scott that I just wanted to be friends. And I crushed him.

But eventually, Scott and I would return to being friends; but only before I would move to Houston, Texas for the summer. It was that summer when we lost our friendship. I knew it was going to happen. He told me before I left, “Right when things are getting good, you are going to leave.”

Part of me thinks he felt that I left him and would never return. Part of me wonders if he was jealous that I had gone to Houston and he spent the summer in Russellville. I’ll never know. All I remember of that summer is that we didn’t talk a lot, and I hated it.

Once I returned, things were never the same with Scott. But I don’t think about that. I think about the good times, like going to Altus for dinner at this little pub in downtown. Or coming home for Easter to find tulips at my house that he had sent me. And there was the time we got tired of talking on the phone, so we went Lock and Dam to drink wine from plastic cups and smoke cigars. I still remember walking into the Hampton Inn to tell Tommy we wanted a room for the night (and Scott couldn’t keep a straight face.) I still think about that when I drive by that Hampton in Russellville. Those times, when it was just me, him, and the River Valley night sky – those moment are what I’ll always remember about him.

And now, three years later, memories are all I have left of Scott. He was one of my first friends in college. He was one of the first people -- who wasn't a teacher -- to tell me that I had some talent in this newspaper thing. He also showed me a little favoritism since he was a graduate assistant in one of my classes I took. He believed in me. I just wish he could have believed in himself some more.

David Scott Berry was a wonderful man – one I’ll never forget. If everything happens for a reason, then I think the sudden loss of Scott was to teach us to cherish our friends. While our family are to be loved and adored, great friends are to be held tightly as well. Great friends cannot be replaced. I always thought I would have more time to rekindle the friendship that Scott and I once had – but I guess I was wrong. I think that’s the lesson out of this too. Don’t count on having enough time to make things right with someone. It’s never too soon to make amends. 

Do your hands write?

When I was in the second grade, I was quite proud of the fact that my teacher put one of my writing assignments out in the hall because I had good penmanship.
Then, my writing success continued in fourth grade as we learned cursive. I could curl my letters just as well as any adult, and I was quite excited about that fact.
But as time has progressed, my handwriting has gone from the top of the class to doctor quality. I blame it on my constant scratching down of notes during meetings, or while I'm in an interview. My handwriting has changed from a pretty, neat print to a hybrid-mess of cursive and print. Most of the time it's legible. Other times, I have to use context clues to figure out what I wrote. It can get ugly, trust me.
I learned to have good handwriting in school because computers were just something that you used in a special class once a week. You went to "computer class" to play games like Oregon Trail and Amazon Trail. Then, in high school, you learned proper typing techniques and how to not look at your hands while you type.
But will the youngsters of today know the importance of hand writing? Will they have to know it?
I saw a piece on CBS Sunday Morning News about the decline in hand writing, which saddened me because you can tell a lot about a person from their hand writing. Cursive has even been removed from some school curriculum, according to CNN.com, so it's only a matter of time before it is lost completely in society. (As you know, schools are teaching for tests these days, so if cursive isn't on a test, students don't need to learn it, according to the logic of many schools.)
Handwriting in school was almost a write of passage. All of the long, tedious papers had to be written first on notebook paper. I remember having to hand write the rough draft of my high school term paper, and then the final drafts were typed. Your hands actually hurt when you were done, but you knew that was part of being in high school. You would even get that little notch on the side of your finger from holding your pen so long. It didn't kill you, but it made you curse at your teacher a bit. And it made you even happier when you wrote those final words on that lined notebook paper  — you had survived. And while a nice curvy font can appear as cursive, I don't think anything can ever replace actual hand written cursive text. My grandparents and parents may be among the final generations to use cursive daily. I remember when I first learned cursive, and I thought it was so cool because "that's how the adults write." I was another step closer to being grown up.
But I don't think a lack of handwriting is anything to fear — just yet. I am honestly more concerned about the butchering of our language because of the digital age. While I am guilty of using the usual text abbreviations like "ur" for your, and "abt" for about, I make a very conscious effort to not use those words when I write formally, such as in a story or a paper for school. Yet, students these days often do not understand the difference in the two occasions and will still use texting shorthand in their formal writing. I want to scream whenever I see these words used outside of a cell phone screen. In fact, I was driving by an elementary school the other day and the sign read, "Yearbooks R in." Yes, I do understand that vinyl signs are notorious for using shorthand, I was more upset that the SCHOOL was doing that — and an elementary school where students are still learning the basics of language. Sigh.
I can only hope that parents will still make their children write as much as they can and develop legible handwriting. Good penmanship says a lot about a person, as well as society. Sure, our penmanship isn't as elegant as the forefathers, but it tells a story of who we are as a culture. I don't want our story to be told in typed print.

Go baby go!

I love running. I hate running. That pretty much explains my relationship with the sport.
Yes, it's a sport. Some people consider it punishment, or a way to get away from an enemy.
I consider running as that time that I don't have to return a text message, or read an e-mail. It's my time to just get deep inside my mind and think about those random thoughts that often result from a run. If you were to look at my college newspaper, the papers that were created after a good run were always better. Always. Running really does help your thought process.
The thing I love most about running is that you get to see things — well, you notice things that you don't often notice as you are driving in a car. I learned how to navigate my way around my College Town because I ran it all the time. And I have ran SO MANY country roads in my Home Town that it's not even funny.
And while running so many roads gets a little monotonous, it's very cool to be able to say, "Hey, I've ran this road," or "Hey, I've ran up this mountain." A lot of the streets in downtown Little Rock and North Little Rock I have ran because of local 5Ks and the Little Rock Half Marathon. Did you know there's a hill up Capital Avenue? Yeah, it's a long, slow incline that really is a pain. But you can't notice that in your car... you have to run it.
But I'm not the only runner (a term I use loosely) in my family. My mom is a marathoner and my dad runs too. It was his idea that to celebrate his 60th birthday, the family would go to Louisville, Kentucky for the Kentucky Derby Marathon. He wanted to finish his first marathon on his 60th birthday. So that's what we did this past weekend — and it was a jolly good time.
We left around noon on Thursday, drove all day, and then the race was on Saturday. I was signed up for the half marathon, and my mom was going to run the full as well, but due to a recent fall off her bike, she opted for the half. We didn't run together. I don't run with anyone I know during races. I like to set out on the adventure on my own.
And ladies and gentlemen, that's exactly what it was. It was a 13.1 mile adventure that I survived (and I say survived because I didn't really train as well as I should, which is kind of my reputation.)
The race started at 7:30 a.m., and after a crappy night of sleep, my parents and I headed down to the start, which is where I remembered one of my favorite parts of running — the walk to the start. At every walk to the start, there's just this feeling of excitement/anxiety/fear/togetherness that we are all about to start on a trek — and only the strong will survive. Well, the strong out of 15,000 registered runners on Saturday. Here's where I was at the start...

 

So at 7:30 the gun went off... and I just stood there. I had my regular start song all ready to go on my iPod. About 15 minutes later, I crossed the start... and the adventure had begun.

As I said before, I wasn't all that trained to run 13 miles. I had been running, but I hadn't really built up my leg strength to keep running for 13 miles. I knew that with my hard headedness, I wouldn't stop and I would eventually cross the finish. To get there, I created a plan to run to every mile marker and then walk 2 minutes, and then keep running. This plan worked out quite well. It kept me motivated to not stop for anything pointless, and I kept a pretty good pace. 

Then, some poor planning on the race directors part took off a lot of my time because there was a very big shortage of bathrooms. The Little Rock Half Marathon had spoiled me. I was used to a lot of bathrooms at every mile stop. Who would think otherwise?! Alas, I eventually made it back to my running plan and the run continued.

The race took us through some less scenic areas of Louisville, then we eventually were able to run through the main attraction of the city — Churchill Downs. I was more than excited because not very many people can say they have ran through Churchill Downs. Bragging rights are definitely some great motivation for running.

 

Once we made it through Churchill Downs, I was starting to realize that I was going to survive and I only had about 5 more miles to go until the finish. 

All along the run, I could tell that I was starting to develop a blister on the inside of my right foot — my usual blister spot. Then, between mile 10 and 11, I felt a rather interesting feeling. At the place where I knew there was a blister, I suddenly felt some liquid disperse on my sock. That's right, my blister had popped while I was running. It was kind of a cool feeling. 

I walked the rest of that mile so my foot could adapt to the open skin. I picked back up on my run as I suddenly came across this group of supporters in the middle of the street, holding beers. I grabbed one of their beers and just kept on going, eventually getting it out of his hand. I took a few swigs, felt a new burst of energy, and popped some hard candy — I was on my way to the finish.

As I was running with less than 2 miles to go, I came across some ladies that were also losing energy as the finish was getting closer. We decided to join up, and with their help, the three of us crossed the finish (though I'm fairly certain the finish line was moved, haha).

I didn't finish in a record time, but I finished. I know I can do better. And I plan to do better. The race revitalized my love of running, and actually made me look forward to running again. I don't know when I'll do a big race again in the next few months, but I do want to work on my 5K time, and my distance running. I also need to get back on my bike and into the pool. Since my education is wrapping up, and I no longer work for a daily paper, I need to try and make more time for the exercises I love. There will always be something going on my life, I realized this weekend. As the saying goes, "You make time for things you want to do." I want to run/bike/swim. Now I just need to make time for it. Looks like I'll be watching the sunrise.

P.S. We ate at two Food Network related restaurants. Since there weren't Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives locations, we ate at Lynn's Paradise Cafe, featured on Throwdown with Bobby Flay, and we ate at The Neely's Bar-B-Que in Memphis. They have their own Food Network show. Lynn's was fantastic! And The Neely's was good — who would have thought of BBQ Spaghetti?

P.S.S. My dad did finish his first marathon on his 60th birthday in 5 hours and 18 minutes. :)

How does your garden grow?

I love pickles. Sweet, cold, crispy crunchy pickles. Yum.
And as if the average grocery store pickle can't get any better, I'm a sucker for the homemade pickle. For example, at the Capital Grill in Little Rock, they make their own pickles. That is one of the many items that will keep me coming back to that place... It's soo good... But, I digress.
So a couple of months ago, I started tossing around the idea of growing my own cucumbers so I could make my own pickles. I figured that if I was going to make my own pickles, they were going to be my cucumbers as well. They were going to be 115 percent homemade.
But then reality kicked in -- I live in an apartment. I don't own land that I can tear up and make my little cucumber farm. Further research showed that pickles can't be grown in pots because they spread across the ground. Thus, my dream was crushed. I will have to settle with buying cucumbers at the Farmer's Market and making them into pickles. I'll keep you updated on that adventure.
But my dream of being a gardener was still alive. My parents aren't really into the vegetable gardening scene, they're more flower gardeners. We did have a garden when I was a kid and we had a fenced in yard, but we haven't had one since.
My grandfather, on the other hand, is a gardening expert. He grows a TON of tomatoes. And onions. And good Lord, who knows what else. And he's 80 something years old.
My aunt and uncle also keep a garden, which always produces delicious vegetables, especially some great corn.
So with this much gardening in my family, I figured I was destined to garden greatness.
Once again though -- I don't have a yard.
Therefore, I have resorted to an urban garden: I grow my vegetables and fruit in pots. With the help of my fella, we spent a Sunday afternoon picking out plants, soil, containers, and seeds. It was a fun trip to Lowe's.

 

I am growing three different types of peppers and I have two upside-down tomato plants, along with a little herb garden. Everything seems to growing quite well, despite a slow start and some crazy Arkansas weather. 

Here are the upside tomato plants -- which were started with seeds, mind you. They have to grow five inches tall, and then I get to flip them over and hang them. I think I will replant the other little sprouts because there are only suppose to be one plant per little hole, despite planting three seeds per hole. I might have a lot of tomatoes by the middle of the summer.

 Here's another picture of the tomatoes and my herb garden. It will someday have cilantro, basil, and oregano. It has a few sprouts, but nothing dramatic yet. This could be a bust.

And here are my beautiful pepper plants. They were started with little plants, but they now have buds on them, so peppers are in the works. I need to get some posts for them because as you can see, they are leaning a little bit. 

So this is what I'll be doing this summer. I'll keep you up to date on the progress. And I might even have peppers, tomatoes, and herbs to give away. Keep your fingers crossed.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?" Mine grows in pots. I love it.