Onward Hoe!

Let's talk about how many people said something to me this weekend about the blog. Just when I've started to think that my mom's the only one still with me, all these people pop up who've apparently been "ghost readers" for who knows how long. Thanks, ghost readers, for making yourselves known. And thanks to the rest of you who are still out there anonymously. I heart you all. Love, love.


We at "Onward Hoe" are proud to report that such comments as those following have been made about what we do here. (Are other bloggers considered to be press? We'll say that they are just for the sake of legitimacy.)


"Word is getting out. This is the blog to read."
~Andrea


"Andrea told me your blog was funny, so I decided to check it out. I have to say for the record, she was right."
~ Seth


Now there's all this pressure, though, to make the thing funny. I'm not sure I can live up to all the hype. But my subconscious might have a fighting chance. Let's talk dreams, shall we?


Last night, I had a dream within a dream (That's actually a quote from "The Princess Bride." If you got it, award yourself 10 points. It was unintentional, though. I really did have "a dream within a dream."). You see, what had happened was that in my dream, I'd had a dream about being at a mall with my friend Alan. We were sitting at a table in the middle of the mall, and there was a bag on the table, which we felt the liberty to investigate thoroughly. It was a bag of food that someone had left there, we realized, to save the table for their own use. In going through it all, we pretty much destroyed all of the contents. Then we realized the owner would probably be coming back for it, so we ran away and found a booth in a Chick-Fil-A where we could hide out. We ran into some friends there, and we were talking to them when the owner of the bag came in, fuming at his destroyed lunch. As it turned out, he also knew our buddies at Chick-Fil-A, and the whole time he was telling them about it, Alan and I were trying to hide behind our food. I was eating the most enormous orange slice ever. It was the size of a slice of watermelon if the watermelon were cut the long way.

Ok, so in my dream, I told Alan about the mall dream, and Alan thought it would make a good stage performance (this seemed like a great idea in dream world), so we wrote a script and set a performance date. Somehow I completely forgot about it until I was at the theater and I heard the music that was supposed to act as our cue to go on. I figured what I was wearing at the time (my standard winter-wear: jeans, tennis shoes, high school letter jacket) would suffice for a costume, so I headed backstage where Alan was in his very summery costume of a polo shirt tucked into khaki shorts, looking like one of the dudes from "Tea Partay." And onstage we went. With our scripts. Because we hadn't rehearsed.

The thing was a disaster, because, as with much of my life, none of the details had been planned. Everyone completely abandoned the script, and the story took several turns. Nobody knew what to say or where to stand, and finally, I just left the stage and went into an office where one of my old supervisors was sitting at the desk. I don't know what she had to do with any of it, but I asked her what I should do. "How can I end this thing?!" I asked in a panic. She had no idea. Then suddenly, the audience erupted into applause, and I realized, with great relief, that it was over.

The cast came off the stage, and somehow Alan had turned into my cousin John (VERY different people), and he was so happy at the success of the show that he just kept hugging everyone. I wandered out onto the stage completely confused and just trying to figure out how anyone could possibly consider that fiasco anything resembling successful.

The End.