Opening Night, Vandalism, Coincidence and Boys
So, here's a major update post. It's full of some pretty crazy stories.
We opened A Christmas Carol on Friday. Aside from some technical problems (jerky flying, the trap breaking and Christmas Yet To Come almost falling to his death), opening was great. We were well-received by everybody, and I've gotten some very positive feedback. Kip and I, in good spirits, headed out to my car to make the "quick" (four hour) run to Seattle and back to pick up Zach (more on that later). As we made our merry way, singing and joking, I hardly paid any attention to anything as I went to unlock the car door. From behind me, I hear Kip ask,
"Hey Amanda, what's that on your car antennae?"
We both stared at it in confusion and then disgust as it dawned on us that somebody, for some unknown reason, had decided to put a duck's head on my car antennae. Yes, that is exactly what it sounds like: Someone decapitated a duck, probably the result of some hunting that had been done, and put its head on my car antennae. The blood that had dripped from it onto the side of my car was still quite red, I could tell even in the dark, so whoever had done it had done it recently. We stood there stunned for a while, trying to figure out if this was just a very unfunny joke or if it was meant to be a threat. Kip thought it might be because he's gay, I thought it might be because my mom's gay, but neither of those reasons really made any sense. So after some frantic discussion, we went back into our dorm to find an RA. She recommended we call the police, which I did, and thankfully they arrived quickly. While we were waiting for them we discovered that two other cars also had duck heads on their antennae, all in the same basic area that my car had been in. The police looked at it sort of nonchalantly, then lifted it off by the bill (Ellensburg born and raised, they didn't even use a napkin) and put it in a brown paper bag. I'm only glad I caught it that night instead of a week later when it would've been less of a head than a lump of decomposing flesh.
Now that's what I call vandalism.
Then, Saturday, my dad came up to see the show. He brought with him a gift that had a very interesting story attached to it. It was an 1890 printing of Dickens' Christmas stories he'd found on eBay (for those who don't know, I heart Charles Dickens). Normally books like these go for hundreds if not thousands of dollars, being bid on by Dickens lovers everywhere. My dad placed the first bid at eleven dollars. No one else bid against him.
So my dad thinks, wow, somebody really wants Amanda to have this book. He gets it in the mail and finds a note in the back, folded up with twelve dollars, apologizing for the rabbit nibbles on the edge of the book and asking that my dad not tell this poor woman's husband what happened. He tried to find a way to contact her without going through her husband but couldn't find anything. So basically, we got this 1890 printing for free.
Then my dad opens up the cover. On the inside is a name written in cursive. The name? Wait for it....
James Keough. That's right. This book was owned previously by a Keogh. Though the spelling can differ from region to region they all come from the same root. How insane is that?
My mom comes the next day bearing cookies and an OFFICIAL Linus security blanket. Which is very soft and amazingly warm and lovely. Since she was the first to ask about Zach, I'm going to make this my official announcement to all my lj friends:
Zach Sanders (whom you Bathhouse people may know was Gandalf, YSW people as Lear and Shorecrest people as nobody in particular) and I have been a pair for some time now. It was the result of a VERY complicated situation between the two of us and his ex girlfriend, Irene, which I won't go into. Needless to say, it's been a time of big realizations about myself and about other people in my past. I tried a lot of things to make everybody else happy but that all ended up falling apart, and in the end I had to make the choice that was going to make me happy. So I did, and this is it.
So now you know. Thus are the adventures of Amanda Keogh.
We opened A Christmas Carol on Friday. Aside from some technical problems (jerky flying, the trap breaking and Christmas Yet To Come almost falling to his death), opening was great. We were well-received by everybody, and I've gotten some very positive feedback. Kip and I, in good spirits, headed out to my car to make the "quick" (four hour) run to Seattle and back to pick up Zach (more on that later). As we made our merry way, singing and joking, I hardly paid any attention to anything as I went to unlock the car door. From behind me, I hear Kip ask,
"Hey Amanda, what's that on your car antennae?"
We both stared at it in confusion and then disgust as it dawned on us that somebody, for some unknown reason, had decided to put a duck's head on my car antennae. Yes, that is exactly what it sounds like: Someone decapitated a duck, probably the result of some hunting that had been done, and put its head on my car antennae. The blood that had dripped from it onto the side of my car was still quite red, I could tell even in the dark, so whoever had done it had done it recently. We stood there stunned for a while, trying to figure out if this was just a very unfunny joke or if it was meant to be a threat. Kip thought it might be because he's gay, I thought it might be because my mom's gay, but neither of those reasons really made any sense. So after some frantic discussion, we went back into our dorm to find an RA. She recommended we call the police, which I did, and thankfully they arrived quickly. While we were waiting for them we discovered that two other cars also had duck heads on their antennae, all in the same basic area that my car had been in. The police looked at it sort of nonchalantly, then lifted it off by the bill (Ellensburg born and raised, they didn't even use a napkin) and put it in a brown paper bag. I'm only glad I caught it that night instead of a week later when it would've been less of a head than a lump of decomposing flesh.
Now that's what I call vandalism.
Then, Saturday, my dad came up to see the show. He brought with him a gift that had a very interesting story attached to it. It was an 1890 printing of Dickens' Christmas stories he'd found on eBay (for those who don't know, I heart Charles Dickens). Normally books like these go for hundreds if not thousands of dollars, being bid on by Dickens lovers everywhere. My dad placed the first bid at eleven dollars. No one else bid against him.
So my dad thinks, wow, somebody really wants Amanda to have this book. He gets it in the mail and finds a note in the back, folded up with twelve dollars, apologizing for the rabbit nibbles on the edge of the book and asking that my dad not tell this poor woman's husband what happened. He tried to find a way to contact her without going through her husband but couldn't find anything. So basically, we got this 1890 printing for free.
Then my dad opens up the cover. On the inside is a name written in cursive. The name? Wait for it....
James Keough. That's right. This book was owned previously by a Keogh. Though the spelling can differ from region to region they all come from the same root. How insane is that?
My mom comes the next day bearing cookies and an OFFICIAL Linus security blanket. Which is very soft and amazingly warm and lovely. Since she was the first to ask about Zach, I'm going to make this my official announcement to all my lj friends:
Zach Sanders (whom you Bathhouse people may know was Gandalf, YSW people as Lear and Shorecrest people as nobody in particular) and I have been a pair for some time now. It was the result of a VERY complicated situation between the two of us and his ex girlfriend, Irene, which I won't go into. Needless to say, it's been a time of big realizations about myself and about other people in my past. I tried a lot of things to make everybody else happy but that all ended up falling apart, and in the end I had to make the choice that was going to make me happy. So I did, and this is it.
So now you know. Thus are the adventures of Amanda Keogh.