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timerippleSo, Ashland and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival! *bounces* Way cool, as always.
Tuesday
- Me: *zzzz*
Later... Whee! Henry VI, Part I in the New Theatre, formerly the Black Swan Theatre but re-built and re-named with good plain hobbit-sense. Joan La Pucelle was some serious girl-power. Although I thought she was burned by the French, not the English.
Wednesday morning
- Me: *zzzz*, walks, makes designs on painkiller bottle, walks into town from B&B, drools over aforementioned dresses.
Wednesday afternoon
- Me: "What was that play about?"
Later that afternoon...
The Green Show. French period dance music interpreted by modern dancers. My dad and I were befriended by a golden retriever named Bella, who was sitting directly behind us on the lawn. Best part of the afternoon!
That evening... Henry VI, Parts II & III
- Me: "Dude. Queen Margaret is totally kick-ass."
Three hours later...
- Me: "Richard of Gloucester! That unspeakable ... uh... *hunts for appropriate insult* ... you know, somehow I don't think calling him a beslubbering tardy-gaited measle really does him justice, the slimeball."
And now we're back, and I'm sitting around vainly trying to clean my room in hopes that a bookshelf will fit in the corner. I seem to have acquired a certain number of books which no longer fit in my other bookcase. Besides which, courtesy of my mother's impulsive visit to the video rental store, I have watched Miracle and Nicholas Nickleby over the course of the past two evenings. The latter was most confusing; I wasn't sure whether to feel all protective or do some clandestine drooling. Ah well. One can do both, I suppose.
Tuesday
- Me: *zzzz*
Later... Whee! Henry VI, Part I in the New Theatre, formerly the Black Swan Theatre but re-built and re-named with good plain hobbit-sense. Joan La Pucelle was some serious girl-power. Although I thought she was burned by the French, not the English.
Wednesday morning
- Me: *zzzz*, walks, makes designs on painkiller bottle, walks into town from B&B, drools over aforementioned dresses.
Wednesday afternoon
- Me: "What was that play about?"
Later that afternoon...
The Green Show. French period dance music interpreted by modern dancers. My dad and I were befriended by a golden retriever named Bella, who was sitting directly behind us on the lawn. Best part of the afternoon!
That evening... Henry VI, Parts II & III
- Me: "Dude. Queen Margaret is totally kick-ass."
Three hours later...
- Me: "Richard of Gloucester! That unspeakable ... uh... *hunts for appropriate insult* ... you know, somehow I don't think calling him a beslubbering tardy-gaited measle really does him justice, the slimeball."
And now we're back, and I'm sitting around vainly trying to clean my room in hopes that a bookshelf will fit in the corner. I seem to have acquired a certain number of books which no longer fit in my other bookcase. Besides which, courtesy of my mother's impulsive visit to the video rental store, I have watched Miracle and Nicholas Nickleby over the course of the past two evenings. The latter was most confusing; I wasn't sure whether to feel all protective or do some clandestine drooling. Ah well. One can do both, I suppose.
