The Philosophy of Kenji

Other animals are jerks, unless you need a cuddle session. Then they're still jerks, but jerks that you need, *%$#@!!!

When you need a good cuddle, follow your chosen person or dog around and yell curses loudly at them until they sit still long enough for you to drape yourself over them. Promptly start purring loudly. If that *%$#@$$ moves before you're done cuddling, bite them and yell!

Sinks are super-fun places to hang out. Tubs are okay, but sinks are just the right size. Yell curses loudly if those *%$#@$$es try to turn on the water while you're in there.

You should pace nervously and bat at the shower curtain when people get in the tub and start running water. It's like they're trying to get wet. *%$#@$$es!

Q-tips and shoelaces are the best toys. Only bat or chase every third attempt to play. You don't want playtime to be too easy for the humans, or they won't appreciate it.

That dog who lives here is cool. She doesn't have thumbs, but she's really big. When the revolution happens, you want her on your side.

Catnip, especially organic catnip, is awesome. I can stop any time I want to. What?! What's with that look? %@##&^!

Jump off of the bed if you think you might yack up a hairball. No one wants to sleep in that mess.

Run your paws over the edge of a magazine or book to make loud flapping noises with the pages when you need food or treats.

Show love with a fierceness that is both incredibly endearing and a bit frightening.

Phrases to learn and repeat often:
Nooooo!
Yeah!
Jerks!
Sit down and cuddle now, you self-absorbed *%$#@$$!
I said now, %@##&^!
That's stupid!
You're stupid!
Get me a Q-tip!

An Open Letter to Birthday Bunny

Dear Birthday Bunny,

Though others doubt your existence, I know you're the real-deal. My husband didn't believe in you, and look what happened on his birthday -- he had to go to his grandpa's funeral. Ever noticed that you can rearrange the letters in funeral to spell "real fun"? Which is weird, because funerals rarely are any fun at all. Despite the circumstances, it was nice to visit with his family, but canceling his birthday celebration and being stuck in a flash flood on I-35 for six hours was not at all fun.

So, for the record, I believe in you, beneficent Birthday Bunny! I offer you a three-week heads-up of what I'd like to find in my birthday basket:


Banana chocolate cupcakes from Delish to share.





Donations to the following charities in my honor:
Capital Area Food Bank
Emancipet
Blue Dog Rescue
Unicef

Most of all, I just want to relax and not do any chores on the day before, day of, and day after, my birthday. Pretty please with carrots on top.

Your ever-faithful fan & friend,
Jenn

Going to "Unfriend" Facebook

About a year ago, I wrote in this blog that I loved Facebook. Scratch that. I no longer enjoy Facebook. It's morphed into an invasive melange of malicious comments and marketing that leaves me feeling pessimistic about the state of humanity.

I don't want to read ugly, nasty, hateful, intolerant comments made by my "friends", or their "friends", or directed at my (real) friends. I already receive plenty of marketing emails. I already see banner ads that may interest me all over the internet. I don't need these things on what should be a polite social networking site. It's not that Facebook in itself is awful. Although there are Facebook privacy policy issues that concern me. It's that some people on Facebook ignore the golden rule (treat others as you would like to be treated), societal norms of polite interaction and any regard to correct spelling, punctuation and grammar.

If you've ever commented on this blog, you may have noticed that I moderate comments. I don't allow nasty comments or marketing spam comments. You want that stuff? Log on to Facebook.

Not One of Us

I had an odd moment last season on the set of Friday Night Lights. Well, actually a few odd moments, but this particular odd moment involved my perceived age. Standing amongst a group of fellow extras while we waited to enter a scene that portrayed high school seniors with their parents at a celebration brunch, I was paired off with a TV-husband and TV-daughter. My TV-daughter was only eight years younger than I am in real life, but whatever, since we would likely be out-of-focus background blurs on the show. A group of the other TV-parents asked me my age. When I replied I was thirty-six, a few people stepped in for a closer inspection, scrutinizing my face and figure. One lady told me that I looked like I was in my twenties. (If only...) I laughed and extolled the virtues of getting proper sleep and wearing sunscreen. More fellow-extras started approaching me and formed a loose semi-circle around me. All of them staring at me. The experience was a bit unnerving. I said a silent prayer that these people not suddenly produce pitch-forks and torches and start dunking me in water to see if I floated or sank with my suspected age-hiding witchcraft.

I shared this anecdote with Chad recently. He wanted to know if the crowd started chanting "not one of us" in zombie monotone. They did not, but I think it was implied.

Friday Night Lights started filming its fourth season this week. I got an email for extra opportunities, and noticed they've raised the minimum age of booster parents from thirty-five to thirty-seven. Fine. See you in five weeks. Five more weeks of getting ample sleep and wearing sunscreen.

I maintain that I could be the mom of a high school student if I had the baby when I was young or if I was one in a long line of newer model step mothers.

Got to Get Paid

Ding-Dong, Death Calling!
An interactive dinner mystery show open to the public.
The cosmetic world has never been the same since Terry Fay began her multi-million dollar cosmetic company. Some call her the “Queen of Cosmetics,” and she is ready to crown a new Grand Exalted Omnipotent Superior Leader. Though the position is far below that of Terry Fay herself, it’s so important that one Terry Fay girl is dying to win.

SATURDAY – September 5, 2009
117 W 4th St, Austin, TX
Dinner & Show – ONLY $33.50!
Performance starts at 8 pm.
Price does not include tax/gratuity.
Reservations required:
(512) 825-1253


Come see me play Bambi Kulakowski: a wide-eyed, feather-brained, cosmetic pusher who believes everyone is (or with a little help, can be) beautiful.

Grrr.

This relentless heat and drought certainly contribute to my current crankiness. I have summer seasonal affective disorder. The sky may be blue, but spend a few minutes baking in my yard (a.k.a. the dustbowl). You'll understand why I'm moving at sloth speed and why any activity requiring me to leave the air-conditioning gives me a headache.

Stupid, bright, shiny, hot heat. Stupid drought.

My birthday is October 8. I want gravel for my birthday --lots and lots of gravel to cover this corner lot of dusty dirt that surrounds our otherwise cute house. Maybe some cacti would be good too, because Austin is turning into a desert. May as well embrace the aesthetic (or lack thereof).

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

After a trial separation, the blog and I have decided that we just can't live without each other. We've patched things up. We're getting back together. I mostly blame myself for the separation. I think I just needed a little alone-time. Absence made my heart grow fonder. I realized how much I missed the blog.

Here are a few things you may have missed during the separation:

JUNE:
Fox Services installed a brand new energy efficient air conditioner/furnace after the old, very loud electricity-sucker conked out. The new HVAC system was expensive, like trip to Europe for two expensive, but very much worth it as we now enjoy a steady, quiet 78 degrees inside and a 30% lower utility bill. We got a few rebate checks and will also get some kind of income tax credit for upgrading to an energy efficient model.

After completing a challenging acting class that ended with a talent showcase for casting directors and talent agents, I finally signed with a talent agent! Condra Artista represents me in San Antonio and Austin. I've been on two auditions already. Sadly, there aren't many film projects happening in the area lately. Thank goodness Friday Night Lights, the television show, will begin filming the fourth season here in September.

JULY:
Central Texas had the hottest month on record in July. We're also in the midst of the worst drought since the 1950s. Gardening and landscaping at the 1952 House have come to a standstill, except for a bumper crop of basil and these succulent flowers.




Chad and his business partners signed a lease on a small office for their new business. The office is an old house that was rezoned for commercial space. Chad's new commute clocks in at just under two miles. I'm so proud of Chad and his partners. These guys have exceeded my expectations by far! As a result of Chad's new office space, I don't have to share my desk anymore, but also don't find iced lattes waiting for me in the refrigerator.

AUGUST:
Chad and I escaped to Estes Park, Colorado for a few days of cooler weather, a friend's lovely wedding reception and Rocky Mountains scenery. We stayed at the one-hundred-year-old Stanley Hotel. This lovely old hotel is reportedly haunted. Stephen King stayed at The Stanley Hotel and was inspired to write his bestselling book, The Shining after a few ghostly encounters there. Chad and I didn't see any ghosts, but the last morning we were there, someone gently shook my shoulder to wake me. I opened my eyes to see Chad fast asleep on the opposite side of our king-size bed. Our hotel room was locked up tight. I was just a touch scared, and slightly annoyed to get my ghostly wake-up call an hour and a half before I needed to be awake.

I took another fun sewing class at Stitch Lab, which is owned by my long-time friend and former Zach Scott Theatre coworker, Leslie Bonnell. I learned to make reusable grocery bags out of fabric remnants and old t-shirts.



COMING SOON:
Gravel. I'm done with trying to keep grass alive here.
New paint colors on the exterior trim of the house.
Public shows with my mystery dinner theater group at The Spaghetti Warehouse.

Happy Trails

Friends, fans, family and foes,

Thanks for tuning in over the past two-and-a-half years. Chad and I have officially owned (and by that I mean have been making mortgage payments on) our house for three years now. It's been a bumpy ride, and I learned much along the way. The first six months that we lived in this house, I really grew as a person. (Seriously, I gained like fifteen pounds from the stress-eating, lack of sleep and lack of real exercise.) Chad and I have done so much to this sweet house of ours, I'm not sure what's left to do other than basic maintenance.

Besides house projects, I've also shared tales of weight loss, grief, famous-people-sightings, travelogues, philosophical yammer and party pictures on this here blog. Having an outlet for news and personal expression has been both useful and cathartic. That said, the blog and I are starting a trial separation. The blog and I still both love you, and you did nothing to cause this. Sometimes blogs and their writers just drift apart. The blog and I still love each other, we're just not "in love" anymore.

Via con Dios, mis amigos,
Jenn

Forced Staycation

Chad and I are ill. It's likely a flu bug, but likely not the N1H1 flu, so don't freak out. The Center for Disease Control frowns upon false alarms. Chad started illin' on Thursday. I was still in denial most of Friday, trying to wash dishes, sweep, take out the trash and walk the dog at her usual times. Meanwhile, Chad was napping between business blah-blah.

By Saturday, I had to admit that I only felt okay when sitting very still. Chores made me super-tired, as did walking the dog. Talking and putting words together in a make-sense way was difficult. Same thing Sunday.

I think that Chad has it worse than I do, because he says his skin hurts and his bones ache. I just have a headache. His fever is more sweaty and chilly, while my fever is limited to a slightly warmer than usual forehead.

The upside of this illness is that it's making Chad and I be still and stay home. It's nice to take it easy. I'm cleaning out the DVR. I made some progress on the Netflix list. I'm catching up on my magazines too.

Keepin' it Rated PG

That moment many actresses dread happened today. I was contacted by a (legitimate, respected) casting director who I've worked with before to audition for a paid role requiring nudity and sexual situations for a Screen Actors Guild movie. (Screen Actors Guild affiliation lends a certain amount of credibility to a movie production.) I said no. I don't even want to audition for the role. I wanted to audition for parts of more age-appropriate, clothed women; not the early 20s-aged bimbo.

I thought that by getting into film and television work later in life, I wouldn't have to worry about the whole "to nude or not to nude" question. Silly me.

So Sad

On Friday afternoon I was sweeping the kitchen floor while Chad was working in the office, and we both heard a thump and a yelp. Chad called out from the office that a dog had just been hit by a car on the busy street that borders our yard. The dog limped into our yard and collapsed. I went into autopilot mode, running out to attend to the dog. The poor, sweet dog was in bad shape. Making matters worse, he turned out to be Max, our octogenarian neighbors' dog. Max is much bigger than our dog, but is also some kind of Black Lab mix like our Janie. Luckily, Janie was at doggy day care and did not witness any of this sad drama.

I started petting Max's tummy gently and telling him it would being okay. I yelled at Chad to run across to the neighbors' house and get one or both of Max's people-parents. By this time, I'm in tears. Another neighbor has arrived on the scene and is asking me if Max is my dog. I say no. The other neighbor tells me that Max will not make it even as I keep petting his tummy repeating the mantra that he'll be okay. I so don't need to hear the score at that point. I pretty much ignore the other neighbor. Her house is stupid-looking, and we've never met anyway.

Chad walks up with Max's mom. She confirms that the injured dog is indeed Max, that he must have gotten out of their yard. I start barking orders. Get a towel for the back of the hatchback. Help me carry Max. We're taking him to the emergency vet just down the road. I tell Max's mom to ride with us. I run into our house, do a kitty head count to make sure they're all inside and then lock the front door. I sit in the back of the car with Max and keep petting his chest and saying it's okay, though clearly it's not. Max struggled for breath. He made it to the vet's parking lot, but with my hand on his chest, I felt his heart stop just before the vets arrived with the stretcher to carry him inside. I whispered to the vets, "he's gone."

The vets carried Max inside. They talked to Max's mom about final arrangements. The vets very kindly brought her Max's collar, and made a plaster imprint of Max's foot. Chad and I were in shock. We both later admitted that we held out hope for a miracle recovery. Max's mom was probably also in shock. She was keeping it together though.

We drove home with Max's mom. We talked about the busy road we live beside: how narrow the lanes are, how people speed, how curvy the road is, how back in the 1950s when our houses were built that street was out in the boonies, but how today it is considered to be a very central location.

Chad and I both couldn't stop thinking about poor Max yesterday. As I was dozing off to sleep last night, I got the falling sensation like a roller coaster going down the big hill and just as the plummet started, I'd jerk awake and think, "poor Max." This sleep-fit happened at least five times before I finally moved to the living room to watch TV. Janie followed me into the living room and flopped down on the rug beside me. We cuddled, and I kissed her big, bony head as she dozed. She needs a bath. Soon.

I Love You, Ma'am.

Tonight Chad & I met friends out at a popular Tex-Mex Restaurant that has a tiny parking lot. There was a scruffy-looking man in the parking lot, waving people into free parking spots. There are moments when I might roll my eyes at suspected homeless people waving me into a free parking space, but I'm feeling extra sympathetic lately. After we parked, I walked over to the scruffy, unofficial parking attendant and handed him $1 for his entrepreneurial hustle. He said, " I love you, ma'am. Thanks for looking out for me."

Organic Oil Spill

Our sweet dog, Janie, loves to chew on things. It's her very favorite, slightly expensive hobby. Janie chews her way through three durable Nylabones ($5.99 each), one large braided rope ($4.99 each) and one squeaky tennis ball ($1.99 each) in a typical week. For the most part, Janie does not chew on unapproved items in return for this weekly allotment of approved chews.

We ran out of Nylabones two days ago, but since Janie had other chewy things to occupy her, I procrastinated over my trip to the pet store. This morning Janie and Sonic (who have an antagonistic relationship with each other) shared some point of interest out in the backyard nearly nose-to-nose with each other. I investigated, and found that Janie helped herself to a bottle of liquid, organic fertilizer (free sample) from the deck. Janie chewed the bottle open, and made a puddle of fish oil mixed with other smelly liquids. She sweetly shared the stink-puddle with her bully-of-a-cat brother, Sonic.

Luckily, the stuff was organic and non-toxic. I don't think either of the culprits ingested much, if any, of the oil spill. I ushered both hooligans inside and offered fresh water.

Now, I'm off to the pet store for some (cursed, highly addictive, slightly expensive) Nylabones, braided rope and squeaky tennis ball. That'll teach me to try and cut corners on the weekly chewing allowance.

Weekly chewing habit: $24.95; Happy, well-behaved dog who doesn't poison herself or her feline friends: priceless.

Emotionally Exhausting

When I act, I like to refer to the character I'm playing as a separate person, and call the character by name, rather than saying "I" when referring to the character. I know it sounds silly, but bear with me.

I love the movie The Apartment -- a darkly sweet, slightly maudlin romantic comedy released in 1960. I jumped at the chance to work with a film student to recreate a scene from this movie. I'm playing the part of Fran Kubelik, an elevator operator at a giant insurance company who fell in love with the wrong guy -- a married executive who swears he'll leave his wife for Fran. In this scene we're recreating, Fran just got an emotional sucker-punch from the executive's secretary who informed Fran that she's one in a long line of mistresses, and that the executive will not leave his wife as promised. Fran has to hide her breaking heart from a nice guy/pushover in the office named Bud who tries to ask Fran out. His timing couldn't be worse.

So I have to act like Fran, who is trying so hard to keep her cool, fighting back tears and revulsion, trying to be polite to Bud, but also wanting desperately to get away from him so she can go tend to her wounded heart and shattered self-esteem. Acting out this four-minute scene is emotionally exhausting, especially when done repeatedly over a two-hour rehearsal. Imagine your slightly out of shape psyche running a 10K.

Fran is not me. I am not Fran. But sweet, fragile, wants to be tough, wants to be independent, wants to make smart choices, but fails miserably, Fran tires me out.

As rewarding as this experience is, I'll be glad when it's over.

Grow Up to Be Food!

The weekend before last, Chad and I were walking past the lovely gardens at East Side Cafe and saw that they used Hastings galvanized metal feed troughs as planters. So out to a feed supply store we went to find some of our own.

I took my sweet time finding enough egg-sized rocks for the bottom of the troughs and raking up dead leaves to layer between the rocks and soil. I'm no master gardener, but I've read stuff about the importance of good drainage and compost. Then I got baby herb and veggie plants along with nineteen bags of good soil from my favorite nursery.

This Saturday I finally completed the plantings: red grape tomatoes, yellow pear tomatoes, yellow bell peppers, yellow squash, mint, basil, lavender, thyme (three kinds - we use a lot of thyme), lemon verbena, dill and cilantro. Fingers crossed that we'll get some actual veggies and useful herbs.

Oh, and we have grass this spring. Pretty. The yard seems to dig the perennial rye grass seed from last fall. The grass feels nice on bare feet.

Supermodel

The Ennui... le sigh...

I had a dinner mystery show out in Killeen on Saturday night. Killeen is home to a nice, new civic center. The audience laughed in all the right places and participated when prompted. They clapped at the end. Our director said it was a particularly great show.

I was a featured extra in a music video shoot on Sunday for a local up and coming musician. The video was shot at the new, very nice Concordia University campus. The shoot was very well organized and efficient, even wrapping early for the day.

Despite these positive experiences, and a long to-do list, I am bored and feeling just kind of blah. I am questioning why I feel so lackluster of late. Maybe I need a vacation. Maybe I need to start a new sewing project or home improvement project. Meh... That stuff takes motivation and my needle is leaning towards empty just now.

Here's a list of ten activities I like. Maybe one of these will strike my fancy this week and snap me out of this funk.

1. Kayaking on Ladybird Lake, formerly known as Town Lake.
2. Seeing movies.
3. Having a leisurely meal at Austin Java Company which features lots of veg options in a super-laid-back atmosphere.
4. Planting flowers, herbs and/or veggies. Chad & I even tracked down some unconventional planters this weekend that are now sitting empty in the backyard.
5. Um... sewing. I have two patterns I've been meaning to try.
6. Reading. I'm in the middle of a book now that is supposed to be funny, but that is actually kind of stressful and hitting too close to home. Maybe I should stick that book in the freezer and start one that will be more fun, and less, you know, critically acclaimed.
7. Going out with friends. Anywhere.
8. Riding my bike.
9. Um...

Okay, a list of eight activities I like. Now I just need to get motivated. Woooohooo... Wait, no, sorry, that sounded really insincere. Let me try again. WOOOOhooo... Nope. Still not there. Whatever...

What I Learned in Class Yesterday

Yesterday I took a workshop here in Austin for acting. I won't mention the class name, the instructor's name or any class member's name. Overall, the experience left me feeling bad. You've likely heard the old adage: No one can make you feel bad about yourself without your permission. Well, one particular class member left me feeling bad about him, not just about myself. The overall experience left me feeling bad about acting as a hobby or profession.

Here are the top things I learned:
1. According to our instructor, no one can make a living from acting work in Austin.
2. Our instructor is now single, twice divorced and bitter about his divorces and his ex-wives.
3. As actors, we should just be ourselves when introducing ourselves to the camera, known as slating, but a more energetic, happier, confident version of ourselves... wait, not that energetic.
4. One of my classmates takes Viagra. He's also divorced after forty years of marriage. He has a habit of dating young, gorgeous and very expensive women. He's remarried now to his high-school sweetheart, but the fantasy does not live up to the reality. His new wife supports his acting hobby. He sometimes stays out until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning, and tells his wife it's for acting, when by his own admission, he could really be up to anything. (This declaration was accompanied by a smirk.)
5. According to my instructor, I look older than my headshot photos, which were taken ten months ago.

My personal observations from the class were:
1. No one looks good under fluorescent lights on low-quality video tape.
2. Low-end, consumer-grade video cameras really do add ten pounds, especially when one is filmed at an up angle, thus I should probably lose another fifteen pounds if I want to continue on in this particular low-end, consumer-grade medium.
3. My hair looks better curled or with its natural waves on camera, versus the blown-out straight look.
4. When the camera operator implores me to talk faster, louder, and not break eye-contact with said camera operator while simultaneously telling me to be myself, I start to look a bit nervous.
5. I do some good "crazy eyes".
6. Apparently, men (especially older men who take Viagra, bear a striking resemblance to Droopy Dog and have a habit of dating young, gorgeous, expensive women) don't like for women to talk. At all.

I came home and took a long shower to try and wash that day off of my skin and out of my hair. I still feel a bit queasy.

My Dad, the Master Squirrel Catcher

Today is my dad's birthday. I wish he was still alive so I could call him and wish him a happy birthday. I miss him.

My dad had a silly sense of humor, cracking corny jokes often, but he was funniest when he wasn't trying to be. Like the time a noisy critter moved into the air ducts of our house. Dad heard this critter rattling around for a few days. He couldn't get a visual confirmation of exactly where, or what type of wee-beastie, the critter might be. After several trips through the attic armed with a flashlight, my dad managed to scare the critter into eventually emerging from an air vent into our fancy, formal dining room. The critter was a flying squirrel.

Since flying squirrels are nocturnal, this critter decided to emerge into our dining room after dark. Since it was after dark, my dad was already wearing his jammies, which consisted of tighty-whities and white athletic socks. The flying squirrel was in a panic when my dad rounded the corner to see the critter gliding to a stop on the dining room chandelier. My dad, in full Quixotic glory, called for me to bring him a butterfly net and a box. My younger sister and I stood with mouths agape as Dad chased the squirrel around the dining room and into the living room, back and forth several times, finally cornering the beastie with the butterfly net and wrangling him into the box. Dad, weighing around 195 pounds, and standing tall at 6 feet and 1 inch, conquered his tiny, nimble opponent. What a sight that was! A sight that our neighbors were welcome to watch since the dining room and living room featured large sliding-glass-doors. (Our proper-Southern mom constantly fussed at Dad, my sister and I to close the curtains at night, but we rarely heeded these particular instructions.)

After a brief celebration and congratulations to our dad for apprehending the furry interloper, my sister and I wondered what fate lay ahead for the critter. After some lengthy, tear-filled negotiations, my dad promised my sister and me that he would drive the squirrel to a wooded-area about a mile from our house and release him or her back into the wilds.

Happy Birthday, Dad. Thanks for the memories, and for accommodating the wishes of two tender-hearted little girls in your battle to keep the house varmint-free.

File Under Miscellaneous

This Friday evening, check your local listings for NBC's show Friday Night Lights. I have a scene with principal character Billy Riggings. I got a good 30 seconds of face time!

This past Sunday marked the one year anniversary of Janie coming to live with us. We love our sweet doggie-girl. She recently mastered the new trick roll-all-the-way-over.

Chad resigned from his job. Yes, in this economy. He's striking out on his own, and I couldn't be more proud. We've saved up lots of money, so we've got it covered financially. If worse comes to worse, we can live in my little, old BMW. Remember, you can't drive a house, but you can live in a car!

I'm working with a University of Texas film student to reinterpret a scene from the movie Happy Go Lucky. The student is such a sweet, slightly shy guy. I hope he gets a good grade on this assignment, and that I get a good clip for my acting reel.

I started a new script/show for dinner mystery theater with the first show performed on Valentine's Day. I'm glad to start a new script/show, because the old show featured my dearly-departed friend Phil as my stage husband. While my new stage husband who took over the part did a great job, he wasn't Phil, and it made me sad to do that show without Phil.

I went to the doctor last week for an annual physical. I don't remember the last time I had a physical. I'm quickly approaching the age that my dad had his first heart attack. I wanted to make sure that everything was okay health-wise. I'm happy to report that I'm in excellent health according to the exam and lab results. Phooey to genetics. Yay for regular exercise and healthy-ish eating habits.

After two-and-a-half years of not coloring my hair, I'm itching to go blonder. Thoughts? Concerns? Advice?

That about brings you up to speed. Big hugs to all.

Vortex

On those days when I don't have an acting job, rehearsal or class, I find it hard to get myself looking presentable and out of the house. I manage to make it to the gym a few times a week, and usually end up walking to the post office or grocery store in my gym clothes -- not the prettiest picture. Luckily, I'm not a target for the paparazzi. If I were, I'd always be in that section of Us Weekly that insists "Stars Are Just Like Us". I can see the caption now. "This no-name actress wears sweaty gym clothes to grab a half-gallon of nonfat milk and 6-pack of toilet paper."

After a full schedule of classes, shows and rehearsals last week, there were a few housekeeping tasks to attend to this afternoon. I kept thinking that I would make it out of the house at some point today, but between the vacuuming, laundry, dirty dishes and putting clothes away, I didn't manage to get out until it was time for Janie-dog's evening walk. I didn't wear any makeup for that, but at least I wore cute jeans and a shirt with buttons instead of track pants and a t-shirt.

Housekeeping has a vortex effect on me. I think I'll be able to pull away, but keep getting sucked back into the dizzying frenzy. You try putting on mascara and lip gloss in a whirlpool.

Squeamish

During the great dressing room project that spanned 2008 and 2009, I dropped the corner of a giant wardrobe door on my big toe. It took what seemed like an eternity to get the offending door lifted off of my toe, though it was maybe ten seconds. My toenail on that big toe is going to come off. I know that the toenail will grow back. I know that having a naked toe for a while is going to be part of the healing process. My one, big, superficial concern is that my new toenail won't be here in time for the start of open-toed shoe season. Ick. Blast these open-toed and peep-toed shoe trends! And, no, I don't do socks with sandals. Except for that one time I took the trash out late at night, but as a general rule, no.

Encouragement

Remember that restaurant commercial I did back in December with the 5:00 AM call time? Remember how I wrote on this blog that I saw the commercial, and was disappointed to spot a split-second of the side of my hair? Good news! I have seen a new edit of the commercial and I saw my sleeve and right at the end of the commercial, I turn my head so that viewers can see half of my face! Yay! Okay, it's a tiny thing, but it's SOMETHING ENCOURAGING.

A few weeks ago, some sweet friends said they saw me on Friday Night Lights. They gave a glowing review, and gave me a DVD of the episode. It was really weird to watch myself, but also kind of cool. The episode is Season 3, episode 7. In the show, I'm listening to character Billy Riggins talk about a house he's trying to sell. I'm there for a good twenty seconds, totally recognizable. Again, it's a tiny thing, but it's a prime time network television show, and my sweet, admittedly partial friends liked my performance.

I am encouraged.

I <3 Studio Ghibli

I know where I'll be on certain Saturdays at 2:00 for the next few months. Wanna come with?

Dressing Room!

We previously had a guest room with a queen-size bed in it. Only my mom has ever stayed with us, and only for three days out of the nine-hundred-forty-nine days (thus far) that we've lived in our little 1952 house. Chad & I concluded that the guest room was not an efficient use of the precious square footage or of the even more precious storage space in our cozy, old house.

Over the holiday break, we rented a U-Haul and took all the guest room fittings to the Salvation Army for donation. Then we drove up to IKEA and loaded up the truck with PAX Wardrobe Units and an ottoman with a washable cover. (Washable covers are a necessity when you have four furry children.) Behold, the Dressing Room! I can actually see all of my clothes now that they are not stuffed into a tiny, dark closet. My shoes (hi, my name is Jennifer, and I have a lot of shoes) all fit into the wardrobes, and no longer have to live on rickety shoe racks on our bedroom floor. Chad has full use of his closet, which is also in the dressing room, since I moved my overflowing stash of dresses and theater costumes out of his space. Now we can both get dressed in the (wait for it...) Dressing Room!

As the guest room before:


The cats enjoyed the queen-size bed, but they'll sleep anywhere. Mostly, the furniture just took up space and was very seldom useful.

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As the lovely, useful Dressing Room after:







As you can see in the photos, the kitties still like to hang out in this room. The nice glass doors on the wardrobe units keep their pretty fur off of our clothes.

If you (Mom) ever need to stay with us in the future, we saved a set of queen-size sheets and blanket for an air mattress. You'll just have to let us in to grab some clothes.

Office Organization

Chad and I just can't leave well-enough alone. After two-and-a-half years in this house, we decided to rearrange and completely reorganize the office. Then we decided that since no one (except for my mom) has actually ever stayed in our guest room (and even when Mom stayed, it was only for three nights) that we should make that room a more useful place in the context of our daily living.

The office project is officially done! I'm happy to share before and after photos.

Before: We didn't own as many books back then. The office closet was a complete mess... complete with mini-avalanches every time we tried to retrieve anything.

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After: We rotated the desk so that Chad and I can both use it at the same time. The desk is huge, so there's plenty of room for his-n-hers Mac laptops. We also added lots of storage for files, wrapping paper and office supplies to alleviate the crazy closet situation.

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The guest room turned dressing room project is 90% finished. I hate to show rough-drafts, so you'll have to wait for those photos. The rug I ordered for that room is running late of the estimated delivery date thanks to Pottery Barn and their spotty service record. Plus we still have a little arranging to do.

I dropped a very heavy door on my big toe during the assembly of a wardrobe storage unit. Apologies if you happened to be in the neighborhood and heard my string of nonsensical ravings as I hopped around on one foot wincing in pain.

In Flux

Chad and I used our time during the winter holiday break to completely dismantle the office and the guest room. We're rebuilding and reconfiguring the office to be better organized and more useful than it was before. We're turning the guest room into a dressing room complete with big wardrobe storage units from IKEA, a new rug and a new ottoman. Tune in next weekend for before and after photos... hopefully!

Disappointment

About an hour ago, while watching Samantha Brown's Weekend in Paris show, I saw that restaurant commercial that I shot back on December 15. I was able to pick out two of the ladies I sat with during filming, one of the handsome young men from my day of filming, the chef who made the impressive skillet flames and the side of my hair -- not my the side of my face, just my hair.

My mom keeps asking me when I'll be on TV so she can watch. I'll probably just be a blurry profile in many projects.

I remind myself that I just started doing film and TV projects this summer (after many years of stage work). In only six months, I've been involved in three commercials, four feature-length movies, six episodes of Friday Night Lights and one sitcom pilot. I have high hopes for the future despite the disappointing blurry profiles.

Merry, Happy Christmas Wishes

My favorite Christmas carol is Carol of the Bells. The song is shrill, kind of silly, features the onomatopoeia ding-dong a lot and is fast/allegro with people singing over each other at points. What's not to love? I played this song in my church handbell group when I was in the sixth grade. I never enjoyed or enthused over my violin or piano lessons (despite my parents' best efforts), but I loved playing the handbells. Wearing the white gloves, polishing the brass on the bells and depending on the other bell-ringers was all part of the ritual and the fun. After our handbell group played, the candlelight service commenced with the sanctuary lights dimming and the flames passing from one candle to the next in our very large Southern church. Those flickering points of light provided lovely illumination and cast everyone in angelic glow. I have this aural and visual memory firmly etched in my mind.

By the time I was in the eighth grade, my family had moved to the tiny town of Cross Lanes, West Virginia. Our church there was much smaller, as was the church sanctuary. The candlelight service was held late on Christmas Eve. This smaller church did not have a handbell group, but relied on the voices of the congregation for the music. As we left the Christmas Eve service that year, snow fell at a quick rate. The snowflakes caught bits of light in the quiet night sparkling like tiny stars falling. By Christmas morning, the whole town was covered in a gorgeous white, glittering blanket. That's my only white Christmas so far in life. I treasure the memory of it.

A good story features groups of three, because three is the magic number. It takes at least three legs for a stool to stand, three wishes for the moral of the tale to unfold. Even in the Holy Trinity of The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit, three is the number.

I'm only listing two favorite Christmas memories here, because I think that the third is yet to come.

Merry Christmas to all.

Validation

Yes, this video is 16 minutes long, but well worth your time. Watch it! I went to school in Plano with the star/producer of this video, TJ Thyne. I often ran into him at speech tournaments and theater events. He's always been a charming person and a great actor. Someday I hope to be part of such a fun yet poignant film project.

And remember, you're great!

Saucy... Pasta Sauce

Yesterday I ventured down to south Austin at 4:58 AM to shoot a commercial for an Italian restaurant. Much pasta was consumed during filming. The pasta was delicious when it was warm, but cold pasta is not my favorite. I highly recommend the peach Bellini, and am craving one now despite the chilly temperatures outside. The cran-grape juice masquerading as wine featured a prominent fruity bouquet with a smooth, sweet finish.

The gorgeous ladies in the photo with me are Anne Clare (with whom I've worked on four different projects now), Yael and Michelle. They were so much fun! If you see the commercial, rest assured that we didn't have to fake the laughter at all.

I feel blessed to get paid to giggle and slurp pasta all day. However, that 5:00 AM call time was not so heavenly.

Way Too Tender-Hearted

One of my favorite cats I used to visit during my time as a Furry Godmother petsitter has a blog. The cat's people-mom is a writer, so you do the math. I subscribe to the blog updates and had not seen an update for nearly ten months. I figured that Tippy, the twenty-two-year-old sassy cat, earned her wings in kitty Heaven already, but I just received a blog update from Tippy. She is very tired, but still here in the earthly realm. She talks about how her mom is strong, young and healthy for a person, while Tippy is nearing the century mark in kitty years. Tippy assures her readers that she has had a great life, feels that she has fulfilled her destiny and needs to nap forever soon. She thinks that her mom will be okay since she's young and healthy.

I can't stop crying. It's ridiculous, I know.

Selling Out, But with Principles

Last Monday marked my second acting appearance in a commercial capacity. I worked as an extra for a series of promotional videos for the University of Texas' new business conference center. Because I graduated from UT, and have fond memories of my time there as a student and an employee, I feel just fine about lending my image and implied endorsement to the new conference center.

The other actors, film crew and I were treated to lunch at one of the center's dining halls. The food was delicious with lots of different choices. The dining area was comfortable and lovely. Well dressed porters stood by to clear dishes. It was by far the best craft service (food) I've ever had on a set. The rest of the conference center features warm, modern design and decor. Fast, free wifi is available throughout the building. The conference rooms offer options for huge windows with natural light that can easily be covered by an automatic shade for better viewing of projector presentations. The staff from the UT School of Business who managed the shoot were incredibly nice and appreciative of our time. Overall, I'd love to work with this bunch again should they ever need me.

You'll never catch me in a commercial for (dead) fur coats, weight loss potions or raisins. A girl has got to have her principles! I can't endorse goods or services that I wouldn't willingly use.

Deck the Dog

Chad and I haven't had time to deck the halls just yet. I managed to hang an evergreen wreath. Chad put the lights along the roof, only to find that half of the bulbs are burnt out, and that the timer (which he naturally left up on the roof) isn't set right. But, we did deck out Janie with her new Christmas collar and leash. I love that her collar says "naughty" and "nice", because Janie behaves very nicely when she knows you (or Santa) might be watching, but she naughtily squeezes through the kitty gate to grab kitty toys or kitty food when she thinks no one will know.

An Open Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

Over the years our relationship has had its ups and downs for sure. The Barbie Condo with elevator was awesome, but the boxing gloves -- Santa, what were you thinking? Anyhoo, I've been a mostly good girl this year. I cleaned up my room, removing that big pile of junk from the top of my dresser drawers. I cleaned out my closet and donated most of the old clothes to charity after Buffalo Exchange turned up their stylish noses at much of it. I've kept the cats' ears clean and walked the dog a couple of miles each day. Which brings me to my first request:


I really like this wall mounted fish bowl, and think I can find a place for it that will be safe from the cats and dog. I also want a blue beta fish that will happily swish around in his fancy digs.

Santa, you know I love to read, but have little time to do so lately. Please no books, DVDs or CDs this year as I am well stocked with these items.

I know it's a big request, but what I really, really would love is an automatic dishwasher. Any washer that's energy and water efficient in a white color will be perfect. Honestly, with our 56-year-old cabinets and low counter tops, it will be hard to install a dishwasher, so if you could send an elf skilled in electrics and carpentry to install the new dishwasher, I'd be ever-grateful. Pretty-please!

I don't know if you have any pull with the talent agents in Austin, but I want Heather Collier Talent Agency to represent me in my pursuit of an acting career. I've heard she's the best! Put in a kind word for me, K?

Maybe it's a little odd to make requests for other people, but if you could bring my husband, Chad, a new bicycle for Christmas, I'd love to ride bikes more often with him. Ozone Bikes has several stylish and comfortable cruiser bikes that I think he'd like.

Please stuff my stocking with some M&Ms, Toblerone, Regal Cinemas gift cards and invitations to fun parties & delightfully dorky game nights.

What kind of cookies do you want me to leave out this year? Or is it a raw veggie plate kind of year?

Thanks from your friend & fan,
Jenn

That's a Wrap!

Monday marked my sixth appearance as an extra on Friday Night Lights. Monday was also one of the last days for filming of the show's third season. I've become chummy with some of the other regular extras. I'll kind of miss them, as the large majority of Friday Night Lights extras only work on FNL, and not on other television shows or films.

I finally got a title for my recurring extra role which was "upscale booster mom". Talk about pressure to impress the wardrobe people! Extras for FNL are told to bring their own clothes, and are further instructed about which season you're supposed to be representing in your wardrobe choices and sometimes specific colors. Not only did I need to bring appropriate choices that were not white, not black, not covered in busy patterns, not adorned with logos, but that were upscale looking. It was tough, but I never had to borrow any clothes from the wardrobe truck for FNL! If an extra has to borrow clothes from wardrobe, the person gives their pay voucher to a wardrobe team member to "hold hostage", meaning that if the extra doesn't return the clothes, they don't get their pay voucher back, and they don't get paid. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is stand in line at the wardrobe truck at the end of the shoot to return clothes, and then have to go stand in another line to get my pay voucher signed.

Back to Monday's scene, Connie Britton, who plays the (very attractive) school principal and wife of the (very attractive) football coach, delivered hilarious jokes and spoiler information while ad libbing a speech at the "senior brunch". She is one funny lady! It was one of those you-had-to-be-there moments, for which I was happy to be there.

Maybe by the time season four of Friday Night Lights starts production, I'll have the talent agent I want, and I'll be able to book a speaking part with more than one line.

My Favorite Things 2008

Oprah has her list of favorite things. Just in time for the giving-thanks and gift-giving season, here's my list of faves (in no particular order):

Chad

My furry family of Marigold, Kenji, Sonic & Janie

Scented candles of all kinds, but especially the Mexican Cocoa soy candle by Pacifica or Thai Lemongrass soy candle also by Pacifica



Books and time to read them, but don't buy me more books. I have plenty for now!

Movies at Regal Cinema's Arbor Theater

Sporty shoes and gym couture from Betty Sport

Soigne boutique's great selection of clothes and accessories

And finally, I pine for this ridiculously expensive wreath from Pottery Barn.


Unlike Oprah's super-lucky studio audience, you won't find these items under your chairs. Sorry.

Make It Work

Today's title refers to Tim Gunn's signature saying on the reality show Project Runway. Tim looks over aspiring fashion designers' creations in various states of readiness and says, "make it work." What a great catchall statement. One can convey a variety of sentiments ranging from heartfelt encouragement to implied catty disapproval with this one phrase.

My television and film career thus far has consisted of only a few spoken lines and many extra/background roles. Adding a few more "extra" credits to my acting résumé last week, I pretended to be a college student for a Westwood College commercial and played a concerned constituent at a Dillon city council meeting for Friday Night Lights. I made some money while making it work.

This week, I was back on the Friday Night Lights set as an "upscale booster club mom". I donned my multi-strand fake pearls and tweed blazer with straightened coif to give the impression of an upscale mom. The wardrobe lady didn't like my tweed blazer, and while rifling through the other clothes I brought, plucked out a royal blue velvet blazer, aqua v-neck sweater and said, "I'm loving the blues. Make it work." She then sent me to change clothes. The pants I brought were too big and hung low on my hip bones. I wiggled out of them without even unzipping or unbuttoning them. So I tried a skirt I bought this summer. The skirt fit better, but was a little loose. I guess I made it work, meaning that my outfit looked okay, but this situation has driven home the point that it's time for another closet clean-out and another list of need-to-buy wardrobe staples as my body shape changes to a healthier size. Make it work.

Yesterday was a long, sweaty day on the FNL set. We shot a pep-rally scene in a school gym and then a hotel lobby scene as if we had traveled to an away football game. I spotted lots of FNL principal cast members, but am no longer giggly with starry-eyed fan feelings. They're just like the popular kids at school to me now. I like some of them, and don't particularly like others, but I respect their position in the pecking order. I was so glad when my scenes finally wrapped yesterday to come home and have a shower after wearing my sweater and velvet blazer outside in the 80-degree Texas weather. I heard a rumor that filming of FNL will move to Canada next year, which contradicts an earlier rumor I heard that this will be the last season of the show. I have no idea what the truth is, but think it would be odd to film a show revolving around landlocked, dusty, small-town Texas football in the chilly, scenic coastal city of Vancouver. Make it work.

I'm tired of being an extra. In stage shows, I am accustomed to playing larger parts with spoken lines and, well, some real acting. Walking back and forth through scenes without looking at the camera isn't really acting. And while I've never been an enthusiastic sports fan, pretending to be all cheery and peppy at the fake football pep rally yesterday wasn't really acting either. I'm having trouble right now making this work, this acting career that doesn't include much real acting.

BYOP 2008

Gather round as I tell the tale of the first BYOP party many moons ago. I lived alone in a tiny studio apartment, only about 350 square feet total with a giant closet and a tiny hot water heater. I had to walk uphill both ways to the bus stop to go to my stupid soul-sucking job trading mutual funds. The only thing that kept me going some days was the grand plan I had to host a pumpkin carving party as Halloween grew near. I invited my seven friends at that time to "Bring Your Own Pumpkin" to my apartment for some fall festiveness. I spread a plastic paint drop cloth on the floor and all seven friends and I crowded around and wielded sharp instruments in close proximity of each other. We crafted some lovely creations, but that was back before those new-fangled digital cameras, so it's hard to share the photos with you youngsters in the blogosphere. Each jack-o-lantern was lovelier than the next. And lest you think the pumpkin carnage was senseless, we roasted the seeds and ate them, providing sustenance for our merry-making.

The BYOP party grows larger each year now. While each pumpkin carving party is great fun on its own merits, I'll always remember that first one fondly.

Here are a few photos from BYOP 2008:





I have to admit, this last pumpkin was my fave. Nick M. made a trick-treat-toe game with removable Xs and Os. Clever!

Sadly, Chad was so busy helping me prepare for the BYOP party this year, that he did not carve a pumpkin. Eek! I've requested that he pay penance by carving a turkey portrait into a pumpkin for our Thanksgiving centerpiece. Look for photos of that later this month!

Not Gonna NaBloPoMo

For those of you who are unaware of what NaBloPoMo is, as I was until last year, this shortened phrase stands for National Blog Posting Month. The idea is to have bloggers post each day for the month of November. I did this last year, and while it was good practice for writing and a good exercise in discipline, many of my posts were boring and full of psychobabble. I'm sparing myself and my loyal readers (Hi Grandma!) that exercise this year.

However, I wish Jensational the best as she embarks on NaBloPoMo. She is a far wittier writer than I can hope to be with fabulously irreverent accounts of her adventures as a new mom, working woman and city dweller. Go Jensational!

How I Spent the Weekend Before Last

It took two days, a big roll of blackout fabric, one expensive trip to the nursery, two semi-expensive trips to Lowe's, twelve bags of mulch, much sweat and exertion, but Chad & I finally have something approximating landscaping in the front yard.

Chad also tilled up the yard and spread grass seed and nontoxic fertilizer in the front yard. Now we just have to wait for the grass to grow. In the process of digging and tilling, we found several big rocks and lots of little plastic plant markers. One of our sweet, octogenarian neighbors told us that a part-owner of Shoal Creek Nursery lived in our house for several years, and planted the whole front yard like a lush flower garden. Then the next owner of the house ripped up all of the plants and had grass in the front yard. I'd love to see a photo of the yard back in its flowering garden glory.

Coffee, Tea or...

I've been busy, and alternately, recovering from the busy. A week ago, I got to play that 1965 flight attendant after all. According to one of the casting people associated with that movie, the director handpicked each extra based on their photos. The director insisted that I should be the flight attendant and ordered the wardrobe crew to make the dress work. Luckily, the vintage dress was stretchy polyester and posed no problem.

Last Wednesday, I awoke at 5:00 AM to put my hair in hot rollers and drive an hour down the road to the tiny Georgetown airport for my 6:30 AM makeup call time. The hairstylist teased my hair and used about twenty bobby-pins to coax my hair into a 1960s updo. Then the makeup lady worked her magic with liberal use of black eyeliner to make me look 1960s glamorous. Then the other extras and I sat in the big tent and waited for the rain to stop. We waited nearly two hours, because the airport was supposed to be set in Tuscon with a line referencing how hot and dry it was.

When we finally got to go to the airport landing area, we climbed aboard a vintage 1957 airplane to film our scene of disembarking the plane with the film's title character, Temple Grandin, who was played by Claire Danes. Claire climbed slowly up the steps to the airplane. She took her spot and asked where I'd be standing as we exited. She & I talked about how flying seemed much more glamorous back in the 1960s compared to how grueling and unglamorous air travel is today. Claire has gorgeous eyes in person. She is very willowy. One can't help but want to hug her and offer her a hearty meal upon seeing her.

After a rehearsal of the scene, the director decided that he wanted me to stand at the bottom of the airplane steps and say goodbye to the passengers as they left. We shot the scene about fifteen times from different angles and with different cameras, pausing a few times to wait out short rain showers. At one point during all of this, I heard a voice behind me call out, " Dear, your slip is showing." I turned and said, "Thanks for telling me, but why are you looking at my slip?" to none other than Catherine O'Hara. She replied, "I gotta stare at something between takes." Then she called a wardrobe lady over to help me fix the slip. Catherine O'Hara is strikingly beautiful in person. She seemed very nice and good-natured, hanging out with the extras between takes.

We finally wrapped our scene around 3:00 PM and headed back to base camp/the tent to change out of our costumes and hand in our pay vouchers. When I gave my costume back to the wardrobe lady, she smiled and asked if I knew I was singled out to be the flight attendant. I said yes and explained about the concern over the dress not fitting. She told me I looked perfect and that I got a lot of attention from the crew. *blush* Then she congratulated me for doing such a great job. Her very complimentary gushing was the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae on that rainy Wednesday.

Housewife/Actress Needs Vacation

I've been busy. The past few weeks have seen me at auditions, acting workshops, working as an extra, acting in a film director's workshop for the University of Texas and then filming that scene, doing the usual housework/chores and trying to make it to the gym three times a week for 90-minute sessions. The next few weeks of my calendar hold more of the same.

I'm tired. I want to go away to a nice hotel somewhere quiet for a few days (maybe weeks) where I'll sleep a lot and read some books. While I'm gone, I'd like for a professional handyman (or handywoman) to patch the sagging trim work around the carport steps, replace the carport door, repaint all the exterior doors and shutters from black to "blackberry jam", install an electric dishwasher, build custom cabinetry and drawers in the kitchen to replace the 55 year-old cabinets and drawers that will be damaged when the electric dishwasher gets installed, replace the columns around the front porch & carport, repair all the cracked concrete in the carport and repair the rotting wood trim on the corner of the carport roof. While I'm gone I'd also like for a professional landscaper to level the yard (front and back), design and install an irrigation system, plant lots of pretty native/drought-tolerant plants, artfully place some big boulders along the front and busy-street sides of the yard and build a raised bed in the back for my veggies that are outgrowing their pots.

Just call me when it's all done, and (maybe) I'll be ready to return home. Thanks!

Friday Night Lights, Take 2

I worked as an extra again yesterday for "Friday Night Lights". (I have got to watch that show this year!) Another lady and I got plucked from about twenty other extras to stand with actors who actually had lines at a scene featuring a real estate open house. I got to say a line too! It was, "No. Not yet." Exciting stuff!

Super-cute (but not as cute as my husband) actor, Kyle Chandler, said "hi" to me as we passed in the doorway to the open house. I've liked him ever since he was on "Early Edition".

After my scene was done, I had to clear out of the camera range, but was not allowed to leave yet. A nice crew lady gave me a folding chair that said "cast" on it. I got to sit in the room with the sound guys and watch the monitors of the different cameras. The sound guys even gave me a headset so I could hear what was happening on set. I felt like a real actor, and not just "background".

I think that FNL gets such good reviews from critics because the use of natural lighting whenever possible and the multiple camera views of each scene make the show look real, as if you're there. I also love that the scripts are somewhat loose on this show, allowing for a bit of adjustment for the situation and realism in the language.

Just before sunset, the director told us we were wrapped and sent us back to base camp in big, white shuttle vans. This second go-round on FNL was nicer than the first.

But They're Real

I got a call today from an HBO production shooting in Austin. The Casting Directors liked my look and set aside my photos for consideration for a role as a 1950s era flight attendant. This is one of those phone calls actors dream of getting! And the movie stars Claire Danes, who I've loved ever since she played Angela on "My So-called Life".

Anyway, I'm confirming some information for the casting lady over the phone which includes my clothing sizes. People in the 1950s were generally smaller than people today. My shortness is working for me, as are my small-ish feet. My pant size, dress size and shirt size are all fine for the vintage costume pieces. Then the casting lady asks my bust size, and I tell her. She says, "Really? Are you sure?" I confirm that I had a professional fitting for new bras recently (after all that weight loss) and that, yes, that's my bra size. She then says, "I think that takes you out of the running." I'm crestfallen and watching my role as a 1950s flight attendant slip away. I blurt out, "but they're real. It's not like they're crazy implants. I can mash them down with some ace bandages or something." The casting lady goes on to say that she's sure they'll have something else for me, and that they'll be in town shooting until Thanksgiving. Don't call us, we'll call you, and all that.

Sigh...