October ended on a sour note, and November began on a nice one with the All American Council. I’ve been busy, very tired but feeling better (and more productive) the last couple days.
Linda just showed me this fanfiction, Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality:
“I went to Hogwarts with Madam Malkin,” McGonagall said. “Even then, she was one of the most composed people I knew. She wouldn’t turn a hair if You-Know-Who himself walked into her shop.” McGonagall’s voice was reminiscent, and very approving. “Madam Malkin won’t bother you, and she won’t let anyone else bother you.”
“Where are you going?” Harry inquired. “Just in case, you know, something does happen.”
McGonagall gave Harry a hard, skeptical look. “I am going there,” she said, pointing at a building across the street which showed the sign of a wooden keg, “and buying a drink, which I desperately need.You are to get fitted for your robes, nothing else. I will come back to check up on you shortly, and I expect to find Madam Malkin’s shop still standing and not in any way on fire.”
I love it so terribly much. It explains all this science and Harry’s delightfully Ravenclaw (so far, ch. 5) and best of all there’s NO VERNON DURSLEY. In fact, Harry goes by “Harry James Potter-Evans-Verre.” Petunia is rather delightful, in comparison anyway, and she’s married to a professor.
I have this week off work, because being a nanny means that when the kids go out of town I am left high and dry. I need more work, which may not please my bosslady. I like my bosslady. But I don’t want to be in debt any further or longer than I already am. Financially life is not superb, but in many other ways it’s going well. I would like to make it to Chicago around New Year’s, though. I miss people.
Physically, I feel much better. It’s hard to know, sometimes, when my body’s in bad shape. Til the tension gets released, it can be hard to tell there’s tension. And I’m one whole person; if my neck’s tight, I sleep more poorly, I feel crankier, and I pray less. Body, mind, emotions, spirit. All linked. And all I know is that I feel icky, in an undefinable way, and I can’t fix it or overcome it and Matthew suggested I might be depressed and I kicked him. Then, after a pretty awful spat with my mother (communication error, my bad), I got a treatment. My body feels better, my mother and I are communicating rather well, and I have energy. I’ve been so drained. It’s such a relief when I can fix something physical and gain emotional strength too.
I’m not moving into that gorgeous apartment, which is alas-and-alack since I painted it colors I love which the landlady finds a bit strong. (We have differing ideas on “light yellow”.) Instead, I’ve moved my stuff into the RV. It’s plenty big. Needs a scrubbing, and a painting, and winterizing, and a few other things. Like electricity. So I stay in the house most of the time. But it’s plenty big, and I can make this beautiful, too. I am a juggernaut, dammit.
I am not editing this, and I’m leaving a lot out, but I wanted to give you all a brief update. I am trying to chronicle my Christmas-present-making adventures. I just made about 40 homemade crayons and my bed is covered in tulle. I keep wanting to make my blog more interesting, but then I stumble across blogs that are lovely and interesting and aren’t I charming, and I remember that, really, this is just about recording memories and keeping in touch. I’m not that damn interesting.
And other times, I find things like Foodie with Family. She’s amazing. Her brussels sprouts recipe (with walnuts and grapes, no less) was as delightful as her writing. I took it to Thanksgiving at the Lewises and they wouldn’t give my leftovers back.
And to end with another quote from Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality:
“Madam Malkin,” McGonagall said, her voice calm. “What has been happening here?”
Madam Malkin looked back silently for four seconds, and then cracked up. She fell against the wall, wheezing out laughter, and that set off both of her assistants, one of whom fell to her hands and knees on the floor, giggling hysterically.
McGonagall slowly turned to look at Harry, her expression chilly. “I leave you alone for five minutes. Five minutes, Mr. Potter, by the very clock.”
“I was only joking around,” Harry protested, as the sounds of hysterical laughter went on nearby.
“Draco Malfoy said in front of his father that he wanted to be sorted into Gryffindor! Joking around isn’t enough to do that!” McGonagall paused, breathing heavily. “What part of ‘get fitted for robes’ sounded to you like please cast a Confundus Charm on the entire universe!“
“He was in a situational context where those actions made internal sense -”
“No. Don’t explain. I don’t want to know what happened in here. Ever. There are some things I was not meant to know, and this is one of them. Whatever dark force of chaos inhabits you, it iscontagious, and I don’t want to end up like poor Draco Malfoy, poor Madam Malkin and her two poor assistants.”
Harry sighed. It was clear that Professor McGonagall wasn’t in a mood to listen to reasonable explanations. He looked at Madam Malkin, who was still wheezing against the wall, and Malkin’s two assistants, who had now both fallen to their knees, and finally down at his own tape-measure-draped body.
“I’m not quite done being fitted for clothes,” Harry said kindly. “Why don’t you go back and have another drink?”
