D: So what, you’re just going to throw a couple pictures and a video up here and call it a post?
A: Yeah, that was pretty much the plan.
D: . . .
A: Don’t give me that look, Druid – I know I’ve been lax in blogging, and writing, and editing (not to mention cleaning – yikes!)–
D: Lax! What is this lax malarkey? Lax is kind – you’ve been downright negligent. Wait, why are you smirking?
A: You used the word ‘malarkey.’ I love that word, and it makes it impossible for me to take your scolding seriously.
D: *You* are impossible.
A: I do my best. So, lax or negligent, I think I have a good excuse: it’s a lot of work being The Boy’s roadie.
D: I think that’s groupie.
A: Do you even know what that means?
D: . . . No.
A: Thought not. Of course, I suppose I’m both roadie, and groupie. I am his mother, after all. It’s kind of my job.
D: And I can see that big smile on your face, A. Admit it: you love it.
A: Of course I do! So, here’s the song he’s going to be singing, starting this very evening:
Mom-pride aside, the entire cast is spectacular, and I can’t wait to see the full show. I’ve hovered in the background of a few of this week’s dress rehearsals, ostensibly under the guise of helping out with a few props —
D: Sneaky, A. That’s just sneaky.
A: Well, I had to make sure The Boy’s sword was sparkly enough. . .
D: (Sigh) The two of you are so strange.
A: Yes, we are. And we’re having a blast with our strangeness. Believe me, D. This is all in the name of recharging my creative batteries. After the show, I’ll have a better perspective for editing. You wouldn’t want me to do anything rash, like cutting out a whole swath of your scenes in World War 2–
D: Goodness, look at the time. You need to be getting going, A – or you’ll be late! A? A! Put the pen down, A. Stop editing!
A: Ha! Crazy writer logic wins again! Thanks for stopping by everyone, and have a wonderful weekend!