Mood: Impressed



In which I tell of my friends’ talents, and how much I am impressed. The works.



I guess I should began at the beganning, it’s the place to start after all. And, of course, you should begant to read at the beganning, it is very hard to read backwards.



My church as a anual Talent Night, this is their second year. Besides singing two songs, and my sister playing As The Dear, we/I (I forget whom) came up with the idea of…a play. Me, being me, went and wrote it…er…massively edited it, It began as "Who Killed Doc Robin?" but was somewhat stupid. It became A Jovial Murder. I don’t act so became director, 4 of my sisters enlisted for parts, three siblings, good friends took more parts, then I had one part left. I, I knew just who to ask–Fred. Fred is a young man of ten. And, from past experiences, I couldn’t miss the chance of him not being in this play/skit. We gathered at my friends home one Thursday two weeks ago. We practiced and practiced.



By the end of the practice, at about 9 o’clock in the evenin’ things where in…little less then caos. You see, the butler kinda decided he didn’t want his part and began asking to trade with the others, it was very confusing, there was alot of trading, I suddenly had three prophands (and only wanted two, the one didn’t want to be a prophand at all). I had changing of parts and oh…caos. My script needed another massive edit. By Sunday I had five more characters; (that includes two prophands). I had, two tentative characters. We needed a practice to sort it all out, so Friday evening, this last Friday, the night before the showing, we practiced again. My butler was again, the butler, thank goodness, he was so good at it! Alot of it had changed, and threw the evening, another character was added…goodness. But, by the end of the evening, I was also, very excited about it. It was going to…well, rock.



The night came around, it was fun, my grandparents came. At the act before A Jovial Murder, 12 young people run down the stairs to the church basement, under the sactuary and quietly climbed the rounding stairs and emerged behind the stage, invisible. I sat behind the stage and watched my Charlie, quietly laugh, he gave me thumbs up at a particular scene. I watched as Harboil (my sis) sally out, "Hello, I’m Harboil Li-nk, Miss Robins sent for me." Tappering off her sentences.



They’re putting it on DVDs, I’ll be buying on, just to watch, and glote over their talents again.



I shall again leave you with a poem, The Evidence, by Lewis Carol. It’s so silly and confusing, I love it.



`They told me you had been to her,
And mentioned me to him:
She gave me a good character,
But said I could not swim.

He sent them word I had not gone
(We know it to be true):
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?

I gave her one, they gave him two,
You gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.

If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.

My notion was that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.

Don’t let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.’

(Imported from HomeschoolBlogger.)