I dreamed the shirley poppies came to my yard after all. So I went to look for them. I planted lots in April/ early May. To my surprise there are two white ones in the back bed, hidden among some weeds. One's petals have already flown away in the wind, the other is just as tall as one of my fingers, the smallest poppy I have ever seen. And there is one unopened in the side bed, the height of my hand, in among the zinnias. So three out of over 100, but I am grateful for the three. I thought it too late, to hope to have any.

I probably wont post for awhile, very possibly all week. Bob will be around, and I intend to spend my time with Bob, with Cheese, and of course with Harry Potter. 12:01 am. No matter what else I am doing, even if I think about it not at all, I am waiting, waiting, waiting. I am excited, I am anxious, I am scared. Each book has been darker than the last. I am afraid of what might happen, but I can't stand not knowing. I am going to try and pace myself, not lose my days completely to those in a book, but I fear that is just what will happen. Bob and Cheese will be reading it as well, though we will not share a book, as that would cause much fighting, and Bob reads too fast, and he gets overly anxious to talk to me about things, and it drives me nuts because I wont be that far yet, and he will say something stupid like it doesn't effect the plot. I don't want to take my journey out of order, I don't want to know anything, not even some tiny little detail, like whether or not Harry wears a purple hat one day, nothing, till I read it, in the story myself.

Bob just got home, must go, do busy things, instead of bloggy things.