Last night I dreamt I attended a reunion with all of my theater friends. The event was held under a moonlit sky in the middle of a corporate building's parking lot. Everyone was there, and everyone looked the same, just taller.
Shortly after arriving, little gnomes started to appear from nowhere. After a moment's time there were hundreds of them. The party guests were not worried from this, nor were they excited. It seemed as if I was the only one who actually noticed them. One, two, three, three hundred stout and pudgy gnomes, all wearing identical yellow long-sleeved shirts, blue trousers and pointy red hats. Their faces were also identical to one another- rosy cheeks, bulbous nose, gray hair, yet a somewhat youthful face. I looked to the tables set up near the corner of the parking lot- gnomes were popping up like a game of whack-a-mole. I turned to look at some of my friends- gnomes were darting past their knees, swift and unnoticed by all but me. I lifted my gaze to the rooftop of the corporate building- a chorus line of gnomes, all in silence, their painted smiles and glossy eyes staring at me, and their bodies swaying in unison- left, right, left right. I watched the rooftop gnomes for a while, half wondering if they were the paid entertainment, and half wondering if they would offer me a hat.
They never gave me a hat.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
To Say the Least...
Let me tell you about a recent embarrassing moment....
Greg and I spent a lovely Friday afternoon hiking at Oneonta Gorge. We waded through clear streams, admired waterfalls, and had a grand ol' time with Mother Nature. At one point on our hike, the path forked into two paths. One let you continue on the main trail, while the other led you down to a beautiful cliff that allowed a great view of Triple Falls (three waterfalls in one- clever.). Greg and I decided to take a breather and head down to the viewing spot. As we headed down the path, a nice older gentleman was heading up. We smiled and said our polite hellos and continued on our merry way. It was a great spot.
I sat down to rest my legs for a few minutes. Soon after sitting, I felt a little tickle on my left leg. I looked down and saw a creepy looking copper colored bug crawling up my thigh. I quickly swatted my hand across my thigh, hoping to get it off me. It fell off my leg, but it looked (and felt) like it fell right into my skirt, and onto my ::ahem:: lady part.
I freaked out.
I jumped up and started running in small circles, screaming over and over "Oh my God, it went in my crotch! IT'S IN MY VAGINA!!" I then lifted my skirt over my waist, skivvies in full view, and continued to scream and flail my limbs wildly, hoping that this desperate act would ensure my body being bug free. It was in the middle of this dance that Greg tapped me on my shoulder and said, "Hey....Krisha?"
"What?!"
Greg then pointed behind me. I turned around, and to my surprise, saw the nice old man, camera in hand (but not to his eye. He wasn't a pervert.) and a look of shock on his face. He had seen the whole thing.
Instantly, I lowered my skirt, turned back around and buried my embarrassed face in my hands. Greg laughed and took pictures.
Greg and I spent a lovely Friday afternoon hiking at Oneonta Gorge. We waded through clear streams, admired waterfalls, and had a grand ol' time with Mother Nature. At one point on our hike, the path forked into two paths. One let you continue on the main trail, while the other led you down to a beautiful cliff that allowed a great view of Triple Falls (three waterfalls in one- clever.). Greg and I decided to take a breather and head down to the viewing spot. As we headed down the path, a nice older gentleman was heading up. We smiled and said our polite hellos and continued on our merry way. It was a great spot.
I sat down to rest my legs for a few minutes. Soon after sitting, I felt a little tickle on my left leg. I looked down and saw a creepy looking copper colored bug crawling up my thigh. I quickly swatted my hand across my thigh, hoping to get it off me. It fell off my leg, but it looked (and felt) like it fell right into my skirt, and onto my ::ahem:: lady part.
I freaked out.
I jumped up and started running in small circles, screaming over and over "Oh my God, it went in my crotch! IT'S IN MY VAGINA!!" I then lifted my skirt over my waist, skivvies in full view, and continued to scream and flail my limbs wildly, hoping that this desperate act would ensure my body being bug free. It was in the middle of this dance that Greg tapped me on my shoulder and said, "Hey....Krisha?"
"What?!"
Greg then pointed behind me. I turned around, and to my surprise, saw the nice old man, camera in hand (but not to his eye. He wasn't a pervert.) and a look of shock on his face. He had seen the whole thing.
Instantly, I lowered my skirt, turned back around and buried my embarrassed face in my hands. Greg laughed and took pictures.
Monday, July 6, 2009
What I Should Be Doing
My sister-in-law is coming to town! Although the visit will be short, I'm really looking forward to the time we will have.
Greg and I have been getting the guest bedroom all set up. Currently it has been used as our giant walk-in closet. Since we had decided to fix up the master bedroom first, all of our clothes and any extras were thrown into that spare room. Well, now we have to put a person in it, so we actually have to be productive and create a room that's more of an enjoyment than a punishment to stay in. I swear, if we didn't have guests coming over, we'd probably never get motivated to fix that room up. So earlier today, I started hauling our storage containers back up to the master bedroom, and about five minutes into working, I tripped on the stairs and twisted my ankle. Don't worry, it's not serious. It just hurts like a bitch, and now it's really difficult to carry things up and down the stairs. Now, Greg is doing all the work, and I feel like dead weight. Although it hurts my ankle to put too much weight on it, I can't help but feel guilty for not being able to help out more. What I should be doing, rather than typing away, is sucking it up and helping out. What hurts more, feeling guilty or walking up and down stairs? I'm not sure.
Greg and I have been getting the guest bedroom all set up. Currently it has been used as our giant walk-in closet. Since we had decided to fix up the master bedroom first, all of our clothes and any extras were thrown into that spare room. Well, now we have to put a person in it, so we actually have to be productive and create a room that's more of an enjoyment than a punishment to stay in. I swear, if we didn't have guests coming over, we'd probably never get motivated to fix that room up. So earlier today, I started hauling our storage containers back up to the master bedroom, and about five minutes into working, I tripped on the stairs and twisted my ankle. Don't worry, it's not serious. It just hurts like a bitch, and now it's really difficult to carry things up and down the stairs. Now, Greg is doing all the work, and I feel like dead weight. Although it hurts my ankle to put too much weight on it, I can't help but feel guilty for not being able to help out more. What I should be doing, rather than typing away, is sucking it up and helping out. What hurts more, feeling guilty or walking up and down stairs? I'm not sure.
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