Albus Dumbledore

So you "always thought of Dumbledore as gay", huh? Oh, Jo. I really wish you hadn't said that.

Understand that I have no issue with anybody's being gay, fictional or RW, male or female. In fact, Dumbledore being gay makes perfect sense, as I look back over the books. The problem is that the Harry Potter books have been such a lightning rod for fundamentalist Christianity from the very beginning due to the witchcraft and magic content -- being banned from libraries, denounced from pulpits, and argued over (with varying levels of coherency) in every medium short of cave-painting. It looked like Deathly Hallows had put paid to all those arguments, with the fairly unmistakable Christian parallels in Harry's intended sacrifice and that wonderful chapter with Dumbledore at Kings Cross. Now she's answered one question at a big event, and it's in every news outlet and on every HP website that "DUMBLEDORE'S GAY! DUMBLEDORE'S GAY!". That one aspect of his personality will overshadow everything else about him. Everything from his "high-heeled boots" to his embroidered robes will be analyzed for suggestiveness, and nothing will be left of the Headmaster, mage, teacher and warrior we knew up until now.

It won't matter that nobody saw this coming, it won't matter at all that there is not one syllable in any of the seven books that led anyone to think that Dumbledore was gay. People whose opinions I had respected are now saying on HP websites that it destroyed all those years of enjoyment of the books to have this one revelation made by JK Rowling and that it calls her own Christianity into question. Anti-Potter writers are leaping up and down, shrilly crowing "I told you so" at the top of their lungs, sounding more like Bellatrix Lestrange than anything else, absolutely rejoicing that a hitherto-saintly character has now been proven to be the anti-Christ, and his creator a scion of the Underworld. (As an aside, what does it say about someone who can get such happiness over what they consider the "fall" of another Christian?)

I expect that many of the HP websites I've enjoyed up till now will either remove themselves from the net entirely or devolve into bar brawls. I think I will just go on re-reading the books, and give up on the forums and analysis.

Bad move, Jo.

The pie didn't work, but the magic might have

Harry Potter notwithstanding, it appears magic can only do just so much. I was all prepared for pie baking on Sunday -- my never-fail Julia Child recipe for pate brisee (that needs an accent egout, dammit), a new and highly recommended alternative pastry recipe, a pile of Granny Smith and Golden Delicious apples, butter, shortening, the proper flour -- all of it. It was in the low 90's out, and humid with it, but I figured central air conditioning should handle it, right?

Wrong. Clearly one cannot argue with the weather, and the humidity was just too much for the pastry. The alternative pastry recipe was summarily tossed at the first taste, and even Julia's pastry floundered, even after a couple of hours in the fridge. Never one to bow to the cursed animosity of inanimate objects, I went ahead and made a Granny Smith lattice-top pie anyway. It turned out reasonably tasty, but insanely ugly. We've been eating it with our eyes closed.

However, it may have in fact influenced the weather. It was only (only!) 86 degrees today, and the rest of the week is actually going to be in the 70s, and not nearly so humid. I cannot tell you how happy that makes me! I'll be able to work on my chevron socks again without the wool sticking to my fingers and the needles! I can do some more blocks for the Babette! And I'm going to make another apple pie this weekend, too!

I forgot to say -- the beloved Wiggy sent me four skeins of denim-blue alpaca wool from The Alpaca Yarn Company. He's currently in residence in Detroit with about a dozen cameras, and spends his weekends scurrying around the Lower Peninsula going to festivals and taking pictures. So far there has been a maple syrup festival, a Native American powwow, a zombie walk (unannounced, at dinnertime, down the main street of a town full of glass-fronted restaurants), a Red Flannel Festival, and a couple of weeks ago, the 11th Annual Michigan International Alpaca Fest. (That's where my Ravelry icon came from, by the way.) Local alpacas, local yarn, and very shortly a new winter cap for Wiggy to keep his ears warm in the Michigan winter. It's sooooo soft I almost don't want to give it up, but I'm pretty sure I can get some more. Apparently alpacas love Michigan, and there are quite a number of alpaca farms.

Here are some of his photos. I thought alpacas were like llamas or camels -- nasty and bad tempered. I had no idea they were this cute! Wigwam Jones' Alpaca Fest photos

Through the looking glass (or anyway the monitor)

So I was wading through spam and things in my inbox, when lo and behold there was my invitation to Ravelry. Heavens to Murgatroyd, I'm IN! Laying aside (nearly) everything else I was planning to do, I have immersed myself in its intricacies, have been reading forii and groups, investigating patterns and yarns, and am torn between despair that I don't knit well and exaltation that THERE IS SO MUCH TO LEARN OUT THERE, and lots of people who seem to be willing to teach. Clearly I'm going to have to hit the lottery and quit my job, because this Ravelry thing might just become an obsession.

I'm anyafire over there, so if you see me, please say hey! I'll probably blush and say something ridiculous, but that's about par for me.

I've been dividing my time between the Babette afghan, the chevron socks, and the new Prairie Schooler sampler, Autumn Leaves. Work is really stressful -- I mean at a neck-and-shoulder-cramping, Motrin-requiring level of stress -- but it unerringly falls away if I can get some time working on one of those projects. I'm Irish and Polish by descent, and you'd think there would be beer or vodka involved in unwinding, but fortunately fibercrafts have a much better effect.

Tomorrow, however, there will be still another project in the works. It was in the upper eighties today, and humid -- and we even got some rain this evening, for which devout and humble thanks are given. Sunday through Wednesday are supposed to be around 90 and humid, and that's just WRONG. This is October! Leaves turn, winds are chilly, pumpkins sit around on porches and front steps, scarecrows sit around, birds fly south, right? Nope, not here.

So I am going to practice a little sympathetic magic, and make believe it's really fall. I'm going to bake two different kinds of apple pie, and try and convince the weather gnomes that October really is fall, even in North Carolina. I might even remember to take pictures of the pies, too.