The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Artistic Director and Co-Founder of TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS. | Author of "Nachtstürm Castle," "Niamh and the Hermit." | Playwright: "Cupid and Psyche," "Math for Actors." | Classical director and educator.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Passing on Parades

So the Red Sox won the World Series. Huzzah! No more unexpected and horrible long train rides either a) delayed or b) full of inconsiderate fans! Huzzah! But it also meant a class skipped (booooooo) because of said fans, trains, and a need to be back in Marlborough for this afternoon.

Howsomever, this being God, He said, "Ah yes. And I shall send perfect weather for those who long to be jostled in Boston. And I shall have Emily at home, for when Peter sublocates his knee. And thus He spake, and thus Peter sublocated. And yea, forth did Emily offer her support and her old crutches and her voice to read Terry Pratchett during the interminable emergency room wait. And verily, it was - if not immediately good - then at least His Providence. (skip a bit brother) And lo, the people did rejoice by feasting on Chinese food and watching Spiderman 3. (skip a bit more) And thus, forthwith and forsooth, didst the Emily descend into the netherhouse where she did her homework and wondered what day it was."

Poor Pete. He's feeling all like he's asking for too much from us! He's not used to being the invalid. But it looks like his knee might not be in too bad shape. So, praise God! And now we know that anyone who is a lefty in this family or decended from this family will, like a Sleeping (Dancing) Beauty, sublocate his (or her) knee just before his (or her) seventeenth birthday. Oh, the irony! We dancing fools!

And speaking of dancing and speaking of fools, some clips for kicks and giggles:

Mood: But I don't wanna do my homework!
Music: None. The heater on. My fingers typing.
Thought: The problem is that my two papers due on Thursday are more or less the same thing. And I keep thinking tomorrow's Thursday which, in fact, it is not. Ah ca!


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