We went to see the new HP this weekend, and, as usual, the empress and I had entirely opposite reactions. Where I thought it was lovely and more visually, hmm, stimulating than the first two, I found there to be more gaps in the narration, more holes, the story moving too quickly, not as compelling. It's as though there was simply too much story to put into a movie, so they decided to focus on making it very, very pretty. And of course C thought that narratively, it was the best of the three. I will never understand how we can walk out of a theater together feeling as though we'd seen two completely different movies.

I really wanted to go down to the MW afterwards, but curses! They were having some silly Hyde Park Community fund raiser and everyone was wearing hula shirts and leis. No thank you. We ended up sitting in the arboretum until 2:30 in the morning, drinking beer and talking about every random thing. Despite the plethora of bugbites I now find myself covered with, we had a spectacular night. It's our new summer night hang out. Who needs crowded, noisy bars when there's the arboretum right there?

I've been reading Nancy Mitford the past few days, and am finding myself thinking like a turn-of-the-century British aristocrat. These novels are actually pretty fun to read. It's like stepping into a world completely different from my own, but in the opposite way from reading Mahfouz. It's all landed gentry and coming-out balls and marriage marriage marriage (but only the right and proper kind). Very fascinating. And Mitford writes with the most subtle, quiet wit, I absolutely adore it. It all feels very frivolous and fun, in the way "The Nanny Diaries" was supposed to be last weekend. Instead, "The Nanny Diaries" just made me sad (there are people in this world who should never give birth). Nancy Mitford is perfect summer reading.