armes de destruction de masse

Today is the big day in Shakespeare class. THE SCENE. I'm not in the scene, because there were only 3 characters and the other people in the group wanted it more than I did -- they lobbied hard, using ads in both the Hollywood Reporter and Variety. So, in the end, I came out as director, which appears to be a glittery name for the prop-chick.

Things I have to tote on my bike today:
1 wooden sword
1 cudgel
1 real leek
2 eat-leeks

whoa, what? leeks? Act 5, Scene 1 of Henry V: Pistol's Farewell in which the Welsh guy, Fluellen, makes the scoundrel Pistol eat a leek, the symbol of Wales. Rather than subject my Pistol to a real leek, I set out to create an edible leek made of cookie dough. The color was fantastic, but unless I made it really, really, really small it would cook out flat. And the really, really, really small version was breakable when picked up. What to do? What to do? I spent 20 whole minutes walking around Fred Meyer (checking out the sales on clothing, but mostly thinking about the edible leek) when it came to me like a vision: String Cheese wrapped in tissue! No photo available, but it looks just like the leek, God pless it.

Now I can get on with my life ... although it will be hard to get "I will peat thy pate" out of my head.

Finally, not to state the obvious, but it's freakish how Henry V has changed in reading it now from reading it about 10, 12 years ago. Let's see ... party boy Henry becomes king after his father (who usurped the crown) and decides to prove his manhood by invading France, on the justification that unverified papers (and officials with outside agendas) say it's his.

Party boy George becomes king after his father and decides to prove his manhood by invading Iraq ...

I've lost all romantic respect for King Henry. He is dead to me.