Jody Amable

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.

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

If I let everyone off the hook for extenuating circumstances like, “He’s over 50, so he probably just doesn’t know any better,” no one’s ever going to stop calling me “sweetie.”

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

FINALLY someone acknowledges professional boundaries at Hogwarts.

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

A new feature with music picks tailor-made to ensure your weekend jam sessions are absolutely ravishing.

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

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.