Jody Amable

The neighbors turned their lights off. My dog fell sound asleep. I kept reading. And at 1:03 am, I finished. All was well.

I couldn’t help but assume the reason these people were telling me not to say even a word to this troll was because women aren’t supposed to fight back. We’re supposed to rise above — to “not stoop to their level,” as my mom used to say.

FINALLY someone acknowledges professional boundaries at Hogwarts.

I was waiting to finally not like a Harry Potter book, and folks, I found it. Half-Blood Prince was boring.

There are a lot of things to hate about the Olympics.

The further I get into this series, the harder time I am having remembering what the eff has happened so far. You see, I am an Old Lady.

So far, Deathly Hallows is, to me, about the divide between the living, the dead, and the living who have seen death. Harry and I are part of an exclusive club: Those under 30 who have experienced death. And when I say “experienced,” I don’t mean “witnessed.” I mean really, really felt it, all the way through.

Harnessing the courage within myself—courage I didn’t even know I had—to coolly, calmly call this guy out has made me a better human being.

Jon Stewart, step aside. Your heir apparent has arrived.

In the aftermath of my mom passing, I've learned to reconcile our rocky relationship with the knowledge that she loved me.