The Glitter Globe and Living with a Vestibular Migraine Brain

A Glitter Globe is how I think of my vestibular migraine brain. If you were to float your brain inside a skull filled with water, that's what a vestibular migraine feels like. That is not as much fun as it might sound. It comes with an entire grab bag of other symptoms like head-lightning, thunder-war pain, flashing eyeball lights, occasional bouts of blindness, and since brains are connected to everything else in the human body it can also access pretty much everything else and wreak havoc and chaos inside your fun-house body on a whim. 

Mostly I think of my brain as a sort of high-strung terrier that I must pacify so he doesn't go berserk. When I book a flight, Poopsie-Woopsie must be considered. He must sit on the aisle so he can make a wee anytime the mood hits. (If you don't think bathrooms and migraines are connected, I assure you that they can be.) Poopsie must have plenty of sleep and access to water at all times. If you get dehydrated, the migraine brain gets pissed-off and that must be avoided at all costs. How do you not get dehydrated on long-haul flights and days of travel? You drink water and pee, and pee and drink water the entire trip. If you spend an entire three-hour layover doing that, airport security will sometimes want to give you an extra screening. 

My terrier brain suffers from food-allergies and antibiotics sometimes causes me anaphylaxis. So we carry safe food with us and epi-pens and tend to shun medications. Over the years I've gotten somewhat good at keeping Poopsie happy. I attend the Migraine World Summit to look for other tips to care for this whiny bitch of a brain. I've even found a doctor who specializes in vertigo and she's incredibly skilled at figuring out what kind of vertigo it is this time (mostly where inside the itty bitty vestibular system within my ear canals things have gone haywire). Fortunately for me the worst of my vertigo presents as Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (BPPV). 

Once, I went almost an entire year without vertigo. My regular doctor had recommended I try a small dose of daily antihistamine for all the allergies (we don't want Poopsie to scratch all her hair out). It helped! As the owner of a migraine brain I was ecstatic. But then I took meds for a leg injury and Poopsie lost her sh*t as they say. 

Apparently NSAIDs and migraines don't like each other. That's something I should have known. I had to take him to the emergency room one morning when he couldn't see. For two months Poopsie carried on howling about migraines and vertigo. It has taken a lot of loving care to calm him down and we're still having the chronic vision glitter while simultaneously drinking all the fresh clean water in the state. Poopsie actually wore out the flush handle on a toilet from all the constant wee's, then had an allergic reaction to those nice scented Bath & Body Works hand soaps. I thought he'd chew the palms off his hands (paws?) from itching.

What's Your Favorite Book?

 

This is one of those questions where I have strong opinions and can out talk about anyone. If you ask me about hot button topics or current events, I'm much less opinionated and more curious about what you think of those things. Though with books, I want to know what you're reading too. Only you might have to shout to be heard over my tirade about the books I love.

As a child I fell in love with The Boxcar Children by Gertrude Chandler Warner. That was my first grade love and the first stories I remember fan-fic rewriting endings to in my head. At some point around then I found a copy of The Forgotten Door by Alexander Key—that was my first fantasy story. It's about a boy who falls through a doorway into another world. It's a thin book and a worthy read for adults too. 

Yes, I loved the Little House books. There was something slow and peaceful about life on the prairies that calmed me when times were rough. I read and reread those. E. Nesbit books are also a childhood favorite. Five Children and It is delightful but I also adored The Railway Children which may or may not have inspired The Boxcar Children. Feel free to fight with me about that in the comments. 

The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J.R. Tolkien and why The Hobbit is my most beloved of them could surely ignite some scorn among the bibliophile crowd. Though I read the Harry Potter books as an adult, and I loved them. J.K. Rowlings book The Casual Vacancy is brilliant in my opinion. If I could, I'd replace all copies of The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorn taking up space in high school curriculums with it. 

My reading in high school tended toward more popular novels from the New York Times bestseller list books than the classics. The classics I hit harder as time moved on. I love Dickens, D.H. Lawrence, Edith Wharton, Twain, Austen, although another controversial opinion is Tolstoy. I'll never forgive those sixty or so pages about Vronsky's horse and when Anna Karenina threw herself under the train (oopsie spoiler alert) my only thought was honestly, well, thank god, because if I had to spend another minute in her brain I might have done the same). Sorry. Not sorry.

My favorite Stephen King book is The Body (it's retitled Stand by Me when they made it into a movie), although The Stand is neck and neck there. So good. My favorite Dean Koontz is (Sorry Mr. Koontz, you know what I'm going to say here) Watchers. Give me a good futuristic science experiment with a human level intelligent Golden Retriever and I am compelled to purchase all your books forever, but I do keep going back to read Watchers again. 

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon is a book I've loved since the 1990's when it came out in one of those old Book of the Month clubs where you actually got a little catalog in your snail mail and picked the titles that appealed. She's written so many sequels with such rich story that I've long suspected that she is in fact Claire and her husband is Jamie and they're here from the 1700's. Prove me wrong. The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley is another fabulous read. It's the King Arthur story from the point of view of Morgan Le Fay. Though I think the writer was posthumously cancelled. I always like to tell people to read that little story (it's a tome of epic proportions). It's brilliant story. 

On top of my popular book loves are all of Michael Crichton's (Jurrasic Park, Timeline, Andromeda Strain) and even his posthumously written book Eruption, I incorporated piles of non-fiction in my book love-a-thon too. Stephen Hawkins A Brief History of Time (every time I reread it I make a mental note to do that again because I can almost follow this time), or The God Particle by Leon Lederman, anything by Brian Greene and Neil deGrasse Tyson too because when it comes to science, I am a fan. 

Although The Ends of the World by Peter Brannon makes me want to get a PhD in Geology and spend a lifetime with fossils and rocks. It's a story about the five mass extinctions and I found it incredibly uplifting and fascinating, and I will never stop tormenting my husband about the fact that scientists found the missing link lizard somewhere around Hyner Mountain, Pennsylvania because his people kind of hail from there. We've been married since about the day after those lizards crawled out of the ooze so I'm always shopping for such information to torment him with.

Speaking of lizards, War with the Newts by Karel Chapek is one of the best stories I've ever read. This Czech writer and his brother were on Hitler's public enemy number one lists when the Nazi's marched into Prague. It is astonishing to me how what might be considered older books are possibly more relevant today than when they were written. Another couple favorites are All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doer, and having watched it on Netflix is not the same. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini astonished me because growing up in a small town in Ohio in the 70's and 80's was apparently incredibly similar to Afghanistan about that time. That realization really stretched my brain.

Now, I'm going to add only Art /Spiegelman's Maus Books because it's thundering outside and here in The Shire that means the power is going DOWN, plus my husband since the Devonian Period keeps interrupting and my brain is hitting bumpy tracks like that one in Anna Karenina. So, to the book club that asked me what my favorite book is, this is my answer. Sometimes I don't exactly follow directions as you can see. 

My Dandelion Sea

This time of year my yard is a sea of dandelions. I've taught Roper to eat them. Yes, they're edible. On sunny days when they open wide. I pick them and holding tightly to the stem, I use my thumb to flick the head off. The yellow bud flies through the air and doggo jumps to nab it. The first time his owner saw me do it she wasn't too thrilled.

"It's safe," I promised. "Google it."

Roper's Mom calls my yard a Golden Retriever yard. He can run run run. We spend hours playing frisbee with an Aerobie. It's a round disc with a wide hole in the middle. I toss it on its side so it rolls away. Roper chases it like it's purposely running away from him—every Retriever instinct in high-gear. This is only one of the things I love to do instead of writing, or cleaning, or doing paperwork of any sort. 

Nerf Dog Super Soaker

The Aerobie isn't for dogs. If I look away for a moment he'll chomp on it and break its little bird bones and it won't roll so well after. Sometimes we use the heavy duty Nerf Dog Super Soaker. Golden's are easy to please doggos. All you have to do to make them happy is never look away and never stop playing with them. Whereas kids are just waiting for you to look away so they can get your scissors and scotch tape without any adult supervision. 

When you look up, your sparest of spare rooms looks like this.

Fortunately that room has a door that you can just close while you play frisbee with Roper in your dandelion sea. 

 

 

FOMO Has No Power Here—Happy in My Now

Once a newly graduated student admitted to me in a near-whisper, I have no interest in travel. Is that weird? It's amazing I said. Being content is highly underrated in the marketing world.

A cup of tea right where you are is perfection. 

Yesterday I fell into a hole on YouTube. I'm a solo traveler and I watched video after video of the adventures of other solo travelers. One that really got me was a young woman who planned an empowering and romantic trip to Paris all by herself. By day three she missed her cat and teared up when she talked. Trying to talk herself into the beauty of the city wasn't working. It made her sad. The old mom in me wanted to hug her, wanted to whisper, you're still seeing the fantasy you've been sold. You're seeing what you're missing and not what you have. 

I left no comment. There are things we all have to figure out for ourselves.

My solo travel is a choice. I have a perfectly good husband who has no interest in seeing the places I like to go to. After our centuries of marriage I began traveling solo so I could see the places that always called to me. I've no desire to see the whole world. Every year I go to the same islands in Greece. I write with the same group of women. I lay on the same beaches and float in the same sea as last year. 

Once I stayed longer in Rome, forfeiting Venice—which I've yet to see. I've never seen Santorini, Sifnos, Paros, or Crete. Over the accumulating years I've willfully missed much. To again lay on hot stones at Leftos Gialos or the Port Beach on my favorite island. Again, this year, I didn't take the ferry to Skopelos, preferring to stay afloat in the Aegean off Alonissos longer. Didn't make the snorkel trip. Didn't hit other beaches I've yet to see.

Instead to be quiet where I am.

Making quiet choices to sit or float in moments—lingering longer and longer—letting go of more and knowing enough. 

Why? I don't contemplate as I slide into now. Living in my moments. Not needing or truly wanting more. Filling myself with now's. Todays. Enough. Shhh, don't ask me why. It's something we figure out for ourselves.

Every Introvert Could Use a Moat

Here I go again. Traveling to the ends of the earth to write. Granted most air travel feels like you're heading for the ends of the earth anymore. Add in travel from a little commuter airport and it's hardly an exaggeration. Especially since it'll take me about fifty-six hours of travel to get to Alonissos, Greece. We're currently living in interesting times but it's never been an easy journey. 

The reason I go to Alonissos is to attend a writing workshop. The reason I go early and stay later is because it's my absolute favorite hideaway. It's not fancy like more popular Greek islands. It's also possible to go on a budget. It's a marine park for the protected Monk Seals. The water is crystal clear and so blue. It makes the best moat on earth. Your writing will rarely be interrupted here.

For as long as I can feasibly stay, I go there and write. Sure, I write at the beach sometimes. Sometimes I hike up to Old Town and write at a café at the top of the island. My moat looks different up there.

During the lockdown I figured I'd get plenty of writing done at home. The truth is I didn't really. I spent a lot of the lockdown taking online classes and worrying. Most of us probably did the second thing. Last year I took myself to Alonissos to write even though the pandemic kept my writing workshop from happening in 2021. After missing it in 2020, the island called to me and I had to go. I missed my fellow writers but I wrote almost non-stop.

Obviously a moat isn't necessary to write but for this introvert peace and quiet is. I get that by running away and focusing only on writing. Nobody is going to interrupt from Alonissos. Sure, I could get that other places and on occasion I have. But I'm telling you an ocean makes an excellent moat and the Aegean Sea makes a gorgeous one. I highly recommend it.

Rhetoric, The Art of Persuasive Writing and Public Speaking—HarvardX

When lockdown started last year I decided to take online classes as a way to keep my mind off current events. I tried random classes that interested me, Archaeology & Egyptology, The Science of Happiness, Screenwriting, Amherst Writers and Artists, and others. I saved Rhetoric for last, worried it was like those Russian novels I'm forever moving to the bottom of my To Be Read pile, and something I was in no mood to tackle. It was work, and I'm kind of proud of myself for sticking with it. It's a worthy and worthwhile topic and class.

I took it through HarvardX and edX classes. If you like to learn (or just want useful escapism), I recommend checking out edX. The selection is large and they have both free and certified versions of their classes, so don't let cost sway you. None of the classes I've taken were easy, but they were all worth my time and effort, including Rhetoric.

Rhetoric includes both written essays and public speaking. It's a way to consider right/wrong, guilt/innocence, knowing/ignorance. It's about clear communication. One of the things the class tackles is how to get solid facts through legitimate sources (something all of these classes were strict about, no Wikipedia, no whacky Uncle's Facebook posts). We studied political speeches and documents as we learned a variety of rhetorical devices. To me Rhetoric is kind of like the Geometry of words.

Reading early versions of the Declaration of Independence as it went through edits and changes was an incredible learning experience. As a writer I know that magic happens in the edits, yet a part of me imagined that Thomas Jefferson sat down and penned this miracle of a manuscript in its famous perfection as we now know it. That is not how it happened, and history has the edits. I loved it, it was a group effort, and thank goodness for editors. 

As for speeches, we analyzed Martin Luther King's I Have a Dream speech, Presidential speeches, political speeches, and watched how they all have bits and pieces of other historical catch phrases and quotes in them (from biblical to mythology to a candidate who ran twenty years ago). It's a beautiful thing and reminded me so much of Austin Kleon's Steal Like an Artist book and spirit. We all use what we've learned to create new things. 

Now would probably be a good time to head back to Toastmasters to practice my newfound skills, but I have a few novels to finish writing first. 

 

The Chemist by Stephenie Myer—A Book Review

 

The Chemist by Stephenie Myer reminded me that I once wrote a book about an assassin. I enjoy action adventure reads when I get to know the character and there's more to the story than chasing and shooting. I enjoy a deep plot. Those kinds of stories can be hard to find. 

When someone offered to loan me this hardcover book for a read, I quickly took them up on it. Many of the books I read come about in that way, serendipitous. Strangely I've never belonged to a book club but as long as I can remember I've been part of informal circles of readers who exchange books or sometimes buy each other books to send. For me that means they come vetted and recommended. Later we'll sometimes discuss them, but not always. 

The Chemist didn't really come vetted. The giver said she hadn't been able to "get into it" and gave up on reading it. I had no problem, this book had me at the synopsis. In fact I read it in a day, walking around with it, staying up late and waking up early to continue. 

Now Stephenie Myer gets a bad rap for Twilight in our criticizing everyone culture, but if her name hadn't been on this cover I'd not have recognized the writing.  This is next level writing and story. 

 

It's about a woman who worked for a type of black ops program for the U.S. Government. She's running from them now and spends her nights sleeping in bathtubs wearing a gas mask, always prepared for an attack. Attacks come too, but she's thought through her defenses and escapes again and again. 

She's tired of running and about out of money when she gets an online message from her old boss with an offer she can't refuse. Taking a chance that could lead to her being forgiven, and getting the target off her back, she winds up in an even bigger mess. I don't want to give any spoilers, but it's a good read and hard to put down. 

Check it out. I'd love to know what you think about it.     

Another one of those times you thought you had COVID—life in the time of coronavirus

 

You know how it goes. You're masked up. There are four tiny bottles of Bath & Body Works hand sanitizer in your purse. You're fine. You don't have a fever. Yet you cough, like an inconsiderate festering petri-dish of end time germs, you cough in PUBLIC. Heads swivel like that alien invasion movie where everyone has been taken over by aliens except one person (who just coughed). They all point at the violator and make that high-pitch alien whine sound. GET HER.

Moral of the story: don't cough in public. I don't care if you have to swallow your tongue to avoid it.

It's allergy season here in the shire (it runs April to December). Histamine is the only thing running through my veins (does it run through veins?). I'm now allergic to all life on earth. My sinuses are Death Valley dry. It's a bit worse than normal Sjogren's Syndrome, but honestly, you can get used to about anything. So, I volunteered to watch my favorite little person, Three, though she has a cold. It was totally worth it because we made a cooking show (pretend) out of a bag of gluten-free flour and water. (Yee-Um.) Priorities. Everyone in the family caught Three's cold. She's a total carrier monkey. I wasn't sure if I had it for sure but it looked bad because a couple days after she left, I sneezed once. It came out like a gust of wind in Egypt. 

Without getting into too many gory details about sinuses—I was having difficulties. Despite the pandemic, I decided I would go see my doctor for my annual physical. I wanted to tell her about my desiccated dryness. Hubby kept insisting I wiggled my nose non-stop, like Bilbo in The Hobbit. (Can't help it, but I denied it.) The best thing about mask-wearing is that no one else can see that so he has no proof.

Then I remembered that last year when I complained about dryness the doctor said buy a vaporizer. Oh, yeah. Fact is I bought two of them. Apparently you have to turn them on. You also have to put water in them. (Ain't got time for that sh—.)

Deciding that before I showed up for my physical having not done what she told me to do LAST YEAR, I turned on both vaporizers and put them at face-level with water in them and everything, and I went to sleep.

In the morning I woke up with a fever and a hacking WET cough. (Not a COVID dry one, but a fever and a cough makes you suspect!) I spent the day hacking and lying on the comfy recliner in my office and befouling tissues, figuring I'd rehydrated some kind of a mummy curse or something. 

Someone said the word COVID test to me. First I said, it's a WET COUGH and I don't have COVID! Then I thought, but WHAT IF...and my writer brain ran with it. Like most of my first drafts, it was awful. (So many plot holes, like where did I catch said virus?) Even then I may have been able to ignore that niggling doubt, but I'm to watch Three again in a couple of days and IF I have IT, or even maybe could possibly have IT, they won't let me. What with her magical carrier monkey abilities, she could infect the entire planet in the time it takes to make one pretend cooking show. Plus, I have leftover water balloons, powdered chalk, neon sidewalk chalk AND grand plans.

Watching Three is like hitting the lotto.

Anyway, the county I live in was doing free drive-by tests. 

Only, the drive-by testing site was full up for the day. So I coughed myself to sleep, vaporizers blowing at me, a fan swirling, and a hat on because maybe I was hot, maybe I was cold. I couldn't decide so planned for both.

In the middle of the night I woke up because I realized how to fix a problem I was having in the Viking book I'm writing. Also, then I realized I wasn't hot or cold or coughing anymore. I checked my temperature and it was below normal, which is where I live. Below normal.

No COVID. Absolutely nothing. The mummy curse has left the building. All is well. And you were so worried. Again.

This Summer I made a Greek Alley in my Own Backyard—newsletter

 

This summer didn't go as planned for anybody. It reminds me of that essay about planning a holiday in Italy and winding up in Holland. Only in our scenario there is some pestilence there too, in the form of a pandemic. Holland isn't flashy like Italy, but it's a nice place. Kind of like being home for months and months isn't a bad thing, and since I couldn't take my writer trip to Greece, I built my own Greek alley at home. Lemons to lemonade, right? My big thrill recently was getting a refund from United. Remember they're the airline that dragged that doctor off a flight? Fly the friendly skies my eye. I've spent many hours on the phone with them. They're not my favorite people, so I felt a bit like Rocky doing his victory laps when I finally wore them down. Hope, patience, and low expectations are my superpowers this summer. Okay, hope and low expectations are. I'm still working on patience (and I'm sick of waiting for it). Let's be real here. I only have low expectations when it comes to housework and paperwork. But I've got hope! I definitely have hope! Yeah, hope is my superpower. Recipe for an at-home Greek alley: Use farm stand plants and the sad remnants of last winter's grocery store herbs. Get ALL the clearance sale lavender from Lowe's, potting soil, and new pots. Voila.  It was fun until I got tired of watering everything. So I found them new homes with better plant parents this month, and picked all the herbs.  What's your answer when someone asks you how're you doing? Are you in the It-Could-Be-Worse column? Couldn't-Be-Worse column? Mr. Brightside one? All of the above within a ten minute time-frame?  ME TOO! That said, I don't think anyone's eye is going to stop twitching until we admit at least to ourselves what we're really feeling. For instance I'm feeling anxiety, frustration, fear, disappointment, discouragement, and contentment all at the same time. Can you tell I've discovered the Dr. Marc Brackett/Brene Brown podcast about Emotional Intelligence? If you're struggling (and who isn't), I wanted to share how much it's helped me to carve out time and space to sit quietly. (Away from the news.) Maybe it'll help you too. There's also the classic Oatmeal comic take on why all the conflicting data is driving us nuts. Matthew Inman has a great way of getting to the root of the problem.   When reality takes my words, another thing that helps me is sketching and making collages in my journal. I also do it during ZOOM meetings. Don't tell. This summer I read through old journals. It's been great for spotting bad habits and reminding myself how wonderful life is.

My phone has 63,192 photos on it. I take pictures of beautiful things. That helps too. As Louis Armstrong said, "What a wonderful world." He never said it's an easy world. My little olive tree. An evening walk. A postcard I sent. A sunset here in the shire. It helps me to document every bit of wonderful.

Playing helps too. Sometimes I find a kid to play with and make art with. It justifies all my water balloons, stickers, chalk, and the kaleidoscope collection.  This summer I've rediscovered the library. It makes me read faster because I have to return those books. I also share my books and am gifted more in return. Life is good. My favorite reads this summer have been the often mentioned book Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates,  Madeleine L'Engle's collection of short stories The Moment of Tenderness, and War with the Newts by Karel Capik. I put my reviews on my blog and cannot recommend them more highly. A couple summers ago I discovered Eugenia Gerontara. I love her uplifting whimsical world. This year I ordered a couple more pieces of her art and sent her so many I LOVE YOUR WORK messages that she invited me to visit her studio in Athens! Believe me I will visit ASAP after COVID. When I can get there. If her work speaks to you, check it out online. She has an ETSY store too. I had my pieces personalized. The Little Red Riding Hood pieces are wonderful. I love Little Red swallowing the Big Bad Wolf. I love him sleeping with Grandmother. That one reminds me of Hubby and me. Don't tell. I'm making myself stop with all the photos. We didn't even get into me feeding gluten-free bread to the chipmunks Hubby caught in his catch and release traps. Apparently hundreds of chipmunks are a problem. They like gluten-free bread and I'm pretty sure they run all the way back to my house when he releases them a few miles from here. Hail to the bird using my hanging flowers to build a nest on my front porch. Hail to the hummingbird who sits in my tiny olive tree. Hail to ZOOM classes, books, and summertime. It's not what I planned, but what's not to love? So, how you doing?  "You're only going to be as good as the stuff you surround yourself with." ~Austin Kleon Writer: Stephanie Karfelt/S.R. Karfelt/Saffi Karfelt Specialty: Seeing the bright side  Aspirations: Backing up all my photos

Reading All Seven Harry Potter Books in a Row—Life in the Time of Coronavirus

Sweet Escapism my friend

Escapism is why I decided to reread all of the Harry Potter books in succession. It didn't take me very long to read them on account of the fact that I did little else, plus I didn't have to wait for J.K. Rowling to finish writing them this time.

The virus chaos has been taking its toll around here, so I decided to get OUT of that mess by going to Hogwarts again.

Braincations

It worked. I'm happy to report the series by J.K. Rowling has as much magic as it ever did. I liked whatever book I was on better than the last, and I didn't want to do anything else while I was deep into them. If I had to do anything else the past two weeks, I did it with a book in hand. It wasn't easy. My copies didn't all hold up to the test of time. Broken bindings dropped clumps of pages in my path and so what if I burned more dinners than usual? Who can eat in the middle of a war against evil anyway?

Chocolate isn't food. It's magic. 

The most important thing about reading the Harry Potter books is that once you get to the third book, The Prisoner of Azkaban, you need to have a bar of chocolate! It's just WRONG to read that book without any chocolate. I suffered.

It's also wrong to endure a pandemic without any chocolate to ward off those Coronavirus Dementors. By the time I got to the last book, the Easter bunny—looking a lot like an Instagram shopper coming from Target—brought me a Lindt dark chocolate bunny (it's the only gluten free one I could find!).

After I finished reading all the books, I reread the last couple chapters of The Deathly Hallows (the seventh and last one) a couple of times. I did NOT want it to end. Despite all of the information provided I needed more! For instance, what happened to Voldemort's body? SPOILER ALERTS FROM HERE ON OUT! They left it separate from the other bodies at Hogwarts, but my mind kept going back to things like, they'd better be careful not to bury him somewhere so Death Eaters can make a shrine of it.

Details matter!

In my mind I decided to fan-fiction an ending for my personal satisfaction. It was much more satisfying than leaving Hogwarts only to return to Coronavirus. After much thought on how to get rid of Voldemort's body, I decided that Professor McGonagall should transfigure him into a toothpick, pick him up with a handkerchief (she wouldn't want to touch him even as a toothpick), toss both the toothpick and handkerchief into the air and cremate both with a flash of fire so hot that not even ashes would remain. It is a waste of a perfectly good hankie, I admit.

From there I thought about what Harry would do next. After everything he's been through, he's got to be worn out completely. Hermione will probably want to head for Australia and fix her parent's memories, remember she altered them by wiping all memories of having a daughter and sent them away to protect them from the Death Eaters? Maybe she could spend a year down under snorkeling the reefs and visiting New Zealand with Mum and Dad. Once I got thinking about these things I thought there's likely to be a reward from The Ministry of Magic for capturing Voldemort. I'm thinking a million galleons would be a tidy sum. Harry, being the fair soul that he is, would surely split it with Hermione and Ron. Let's face it, they helped and it would mean a lot to Ron.

Avoid Reality!

Something that stuck with me about the books is the wrap up chapter. Remember nineteen years later Harry and Ginny are taking their kids to catch the Hogwarts Express? Hermione and Ron are there with their kids. We all wanted that happily ever after ending, but after reading that I was left with feelings of hmmm. They all married their person from school? I get it. Even after investing a whole lot of time thinking about that I decided that ending makes sense.  After all the main characters have been through maybe no one else would really understand them after enduring that war on Voldemort. Harry, who's never wanted fame, would never be able to trust that future friends are real or influenced by his reputation. No one else will really get them.

But in my mind I wanted to give them time in those nineteen years before they wind up all together together, to think about things, explore options, and make sure it's what they want.

That's how I ended up deciding that Malfoy would run a chain of coffee shops.

Yeah, my Harry Potter friends are already ripping into me about that one. But once the name Starlucks hit me, it became Draco's financial empire. After the Ministry had their way with his family fortune based on ill-gotten gains, he had to do something for money. Sure, he may have stolen the idea from Luna Lovegood, but he's making a fortune on Butter Beer with a Froth of Felix Felicis.

S.R. Karfelt

It gives you about ten minutes of good luck and makes Starlucks stores popular to hang around due to their cheerful atmosphere. Even Hermione, who still can't stand Malfoy even years later, frequents the Starlucks off the lobby at The Ministry of Magic. She likes the non-magical but ridiculously strong coffee called the Muddud.

Draco came up with that one himself.

Yes, I've put a whole lot of thought into Malfoy's wildly successful chain of coffee shops. Several locations, Diagon Ally/Hogsmeade/Beaubatons have evening hours. They offer such popular specialties like the Parry Hotter. It's popular with young men because it makes men temporarily hotter than they really are. The Hairgrid is big with bridal parties. It gives the drinker a lovely unmanscaped face of facial hair for a couple of hours. Young women out for a night with their girlfriends like it because they get hit on less, and they can enjoy their friends' company for the evening.

Sometimes a writer brain comes in handy during a stay-at-home pandemic, even when we're not using it on our OWN stories. I could do this for the next two weeks, except I'm running dangerously low on chocolate and Froth of Felix Felicis is nowhere to be had what with all of the Coronavirus Dementors here in New York.