Rainier, Slightly Warmer

Our third full day in New York started with a long line for coffee at Stumptown. While the coffee met our caffeine needs deliciously, Stumptown's pastry supply was seriously depleted by the early birds. You would think it would be easy to find a bagel in Manhattan, but we walked at least six blocks in the rain, popping in & out of four shops before we found a place that had bagels. As we noshed and watched the rain continue, we not so enthusiastically plotted our subway course to Central Park. Yeah, in the rain.

As previously mentioned, I learned to like the subway. This subway trip to Central Park would require two different trains. We took the first train with ease up to Port Authority. Then we walked deeper and deeper into the bowels of the subway system to catch our second train. I was feeling a touch skittish about going further underground, but we found our platform only to spy printed memos stating that the C train would be out of service for several days. The memo helpfully directed travelers to other trains for different destinations. So we needed the D train. Um, we couldn't find the platform for the D train. We decided to surface (oh good, I needed some air and sky!) and catch a cab the rest of the way to 79th Street at Central Park.

When we first arrived at Central Park the rain and wind joined forces to make the prospect of walking in the park comically awful, but as we got a few minutes into our walk, the rain and wind mercifully stopped. Seriously, just stopped. Very decent of them! Highlights of our park explorations included: Belvedere Castle, Balcony Bridge, The Boathouse, The Rambles, Hans Christian Andersen Statue, Alice in Wonderland Statue, Dairy, Greywacke Arch, The Mall, and Wollman Rink where kids were actually ice skating. I'm glad we braved the rain, and even more glad the rain stopped for a while!

By the time we ran out of park to walk, we found ourselves at Broadway very near a subway stop that took us within a block of the hotel. Soggy and spent, we retired to our room for the aforementioned greasy room service meal from The Breslin and some James Bond movies on BBC America. Crazy night in Manhattan, huh? That's how we roll.

Tune in tomorrow for more soggy adventures on our last full day in New York.

SoHo & So-So Show

Our second full day in Manhattan featured mostly sunny skies with cold temperatures and whipping winds. The vacation sleeping schedule (I do love sleep!) meant a late start to our SoHo shopping date. Chad and I were both weary of motion-sickness from the cab rides: racing up to traffic lights or traffic to lurch forward when the brakes engage, weaving in and out of dangerously tiny gaps in traffic, the overpowering unnatural smell of various deodorizers. However, I have a mild phobia about being underground or in confined spaces, so I dared not take the subway on previous visits to New York. (I'm fine with the elevated trains in Chicago and monorails in Orlando or Atlanta, but there's something unsettling for me about being underground.) I swallowed my fear and allowed Chad to educate me in the ways of subway travel. My first New York subway experience was easy-peasy, surprisingly clean and comfortable. The trip cost almost as much as a cab ride for short distances ($2.25 each person), but without the motion-sickness proved itself a bargain. We caught the train one block from our hotel at 28th Street & Broadway and emerged on Prince Street in the heart of the SoHo shopping scene.

The streets were crowded with college students and fellow-tourists gawking and gaping at storefronts. I was disappointed in Topshop, a British import of supposedly affordable high fashion, which seemed to me like an overpriced Forever 21 type of store. The lines for fitting rooms were ten people long, so no purchase.

I loved returning to Pearl River Mart to buy Lychee Tea, cute chopsticks and Asian candies. Pearl River Mart tightly packs an amazing array of goods from fabrics to tea to lamps to 40-foot-long parade dragons into a large, multi-level space. Shopping there would have been overwhelming if we hadn't stepped up to the elevated tea room for a hot pot of tea. We got a bird's eye view of the main floor of the store while relaxing for a few minutes away from the crowds.

Other stores worth a mention: CB2 - love the catalogs, enjoyed being able to touch-test the rug I want to order; Muji - meticulously edited selection of travel and home goods including travel-sized containers, essential oils, socks, t-shirts without printing on them, tasteful skyline cut-out souvenirs and more; Kid Robot - fun, alt-pop-art collectibles that the cool kids like.

We ate late lunch/early dinner at Red Bamboo near the university area. Thank goodness for a vegetarian restaurant, but the focus here was on fake meat shaped out of soy, seitan & tempeh, while I prefer a more vegetable and whole bean approach to veggie dining.

I enjoyed another easy subway ride to the hotel to get dressed-up for the night's Broadway show. Indulge me for a moment as I pass judgement on people who wear hiking boots and grubby jeans with fleece to a night at the theater. I opine that Broadway & off-Broadway shows warrant (at least) a nice, clean, dark pair of denim and dressy shoes perhaps a shirt with a collar or merino wool sweater on top. You're in no danger of being pulled into a mosh pit or being splattered in mud from monster trucks, so lose the lumberjack look.

When Chad & I approached our mezzanine seats for the show, I sensed someone staring at me, then heard Chad exclaim, "Wow! What are you doing here?" The man seated directly behind us was Charles K., the coolest accountant I know, from Austin who happened to be in Manhattan for work and happened to score tickets to the same show. Small world!

I held such high hopes for Promises, Promises starring Sean Hayes (who I adore) and Kristin Chenoweth (what's not to love?) based on one of my favorite movies ever - The Apartment. Sean Hayes grabbed my attention anytime he was on stage and Kristin Chenoweth packs mighty pipes into her pixie frame, but overall, I found the Burt Bacharach music rather tuneless, the dance numbers trite and the lighting design distracting. Katie Finneran as Marge MacDougall offered an unexpected bright spot in the show with her funny owl noises and shimmies that brought true humanity and humor to her character. Perhaps I should admit to myself that I don't like musicals unless they're poking fun at the random song outbursts in a self-aware, winking manner. Perhaps the combination of high ticket prices, star-power and love of The Apartment script set my expectations at an unreachable high. Overall the show felt flat.

Upon returning to our super-hip hotel via subway, we made our way past the bouncers to the lobby for some dessert and bubbly drinks. The dimly-lit scene with its too loud music filled with highly-preened people felt silly and self-conscious like a high school dance. People tried to shout witty banter at each other in varied attempts at wooing. I felt like Chad & I were the only couple at a cheesy singles night event.

Tune in tomorrow for weather woes / what to do when it rains on your vacation parade.

Springtime in New York!...Delayed for Rain, Possible Snow

After limited lackluster debate about where to go for vacation, we decided on New York City. (Marfa, Palm Springs and Washington D.C. were also vacation destination contenders.) Despite Chad's way-too-frequent trips to Manhattan for his old job, he didn't really get to explore the city much or do many tourist activities. Despite my few previous trips to Manhattan, I knew there was more to see and experience in the vibrant city.

I thought I picked a good week to go weather-wise. I thought we'd revel in the lush, lovely blooms of Central Park. I thought we'd take the ferry to Staten Island and enjoy the amazing views of the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge. Yeah... not so much. The weather was alternately cold and rainy or colder with stinging wind and a chance of snow. Best laid plans and all that clap-trap...

I scored an amazing hotel deal on Travelzoo at a tragically hip new hotel, The Ace Hotel NYC. Chad overheard one patron accurately describe it as, "upscale dorm living, but the scene in the lobby can be a bit much on the weekends." When we arrived at the hotel to check-in, we were greeted by a velvet rope and two handsome bouncers who directed us to the hotel's desk. A booming bass stereo was thumping so loudly, I could barely hear the desk clerk. She informed us that there was a fashion show going on in the lobby (Ann Taylor Spring and Summer Preview) and a DJ spinning later. You can read Glamour magazine's bit about Rachel Bilson at the fashion show and Lucky magazine's blog about the hotel's hipster ambiance. Once we got up to our interior courtyard room on the seventh floor the noise dissipated and the small room was perfectly appointed with the essentials, including a large bathroom.

We were too late to get dinner at the Shake Shack nearby, but found our way over to Toon Thai at 435 Park Avenue South for the most delicious Thai food I've ever had. With full tummies, we returned to the hotel just as the rain started. Trying to sleep that night was a bit rough. Our interior courtyard room was pretty quiet, but we struggled to find the right balance between opening the window and running the overzealous heater.

The air coming in from the window reeked of cooking pork fat thanks to the not-so-yummy meatcentric restaurant, The Breslin. I'll skip ahead and tell you that we ate room service from The Breslin one night, and did not like it. Chad quipped that the "salad" which was nothing more than bitter lettuce swimming in oil was proof of the restaurant's "contempt for vegetable-eaters". I'll sum it up with: greasy, gross, skip it. Bear in mind that I'm a vegetarian who values her health, and doesn't think of butter as a food group unto itself, but if you like fatty meat and butter, you might like The Breslin.

Anyway, our first full day in Manhattan was bracingly cold and windy. We decided to take a cab up to The Museum of Natural History. The giant museum packs really interesting exhibits into an overwhelmingly large space. We cruised through charming, almost cozy-looking, life-size dioramas of Asian culture, Native Americas Culture, birds of many climates and then up to the dinosaur bones and fossils. The museum had so much more to see, but after nearly four hours, we were tired. We cabbed it back to Madison Square Park to eat at Shake Shack. I had the sinfully-fatty and delicious vegetarian shroom burger with fries and stole a few bites of Chad's Concrete frozen custard yummy thing. The meal was dangerously good and totally worth huddling under an outdoor heater to dine in the cold but pretty park.

We walked a few blocks back to the Ace Hotel to get ready for our show, The 39 Steps. We had front row center seats, which I didn't realize when I bought the tickets, but I'm so glad. The 39 Steps cast delivered the most hilarious, best performed show I've ever seen! Four actors play multiple parts and simulate many different scenes with deceptive ease. If you are in Manhattan, this is THE show to see, friends. My face was sore from smiling and laughing so much!

After the motion-sick-inducing cab rides thus far on our trip, Chad and I opted to walk the twenty-one blocks back up Broadway in the cold to our hotel.

Tune in tomorrow for more, including how I learned to love New York subways.

Happy Spring!

Chad pontificated that dying Easter eggs in the spring is similar to carving pumpkins in the fall: it's a creative task that sometimes doesn't turn out like you thought it would, the weather is great, and you're anticipating fun.

I'm so hippitty-hoppitty happy that spring is here. I've been walking around the house half-saying/half-singing "spring-a-ding-ding-ding!" Winter in Austin seemed to drag on too long this year. It's official that I can't deal with cold weather anymore. My blood is too thin from years of long, hot Austin summers. (I can't vouch for the scientific accuracy of the previous statement, but you get the idea.)

Since returning from the cold, rainy, dirty, crowded doldrums of Manhattan, I've confirmed yet again that I love living in Austin! (Travelogue to come in next few posts.)

Things That Bother Janie

In no particular order, these are the things that cause Janie great concern:

Kites - the bigger, the scarier

Balloons - especially Mylar

Statues - mostly just if she hasn't already seen them several times before

Scarecrows

Spray bottles - only when being sprayed near her

Any human under four-and-a-half feet tall

When someone has an apple, but doesn't share a few bites

When someone opens that cheese box (refrigerator), but doesn't give her a bite of cheese

When she sees her kitty-friend, Kenji, get lettuce, but Janie doesn't get any lettuce, even though Janie doesn't like lettuce

When the kitties fight with each other - Janie checks out the fuss, but doesn't get involved.

When a kitty wants to come inside, but no one opens the door - Janie will alert Chad or me and lead us to the door.

Sonic - Sonic is our fourteen pound male cat. He hides around corners, then jumps out at Janie when she tries to pass. He puffs up his fur and hisses. It's very scary. Janie flinches and backs away, but then she wags her tale for some reason and acts excited. Maybe it makes Janie feel included when Sonic ambushes her since he also accosts Marigold and Kenji (our other two cats).

Baths - duh. It should be noted that Janie behaves well during baths. She stands very still and gets a far away look in her eyes as if she is meditating on her happy thoughts until the bathing ceases.

Love the One You're With

I admit it. I look at other houses sometimes. I'm a homeowner, but I'm not blind. I see houses that have professionally landscaped exteriors on quieter streets. I see houses that have fireplaces and interior laundry rooms. I can't afford most of those houses, so there's no harm in just looking, right? I mean, they're totally out of my league. They're probably so accustomed to the longing glances from strangers that they don't even notice anymore.

I love my 1952 house. As I painted over a few dings inside the house, and finally painted the new door and frames outside this weekend, I couldn't help but notice this sweet house's age spots. I saw the chipped wood trim, the cracks in the shingle facade, the uneven repairs on patchwork drywall in the corners of some rooms. I looked out over the too-big-for-me yard with its raggedy mix of bare dirt, grass and weeds that needs to be mowed again already. I fantasized of a day when I'll have just a small courtyard or patio to maintain with a posh garden home or modern condo.

My dream-abode is either brand new, or newly remodeled and move-in ready. It doesn't need to be bigger, but I'd like to trade-in one of the bedrooms for another bathroom and a laundry room that doesn't involve a trip out to the carport. Oh, and of course it has ample closets. I know some people go gaga for garages, but I'm attracted to a lighted, walk-in closet myself. Though I lust after this imagined future home, I haven't found it yet. If I do find it, who's to say that the timing will be right?

For now, I love this house. I still see all the traits that first drew me here. We've had some great times and made memories. We're attuned to each others' quirks and creaks. We're comfortable together. Sometimes that's enough.

Knock-Knock. Who's There?

Living on the corner of one of Austin's busiest streets has its challenges. There are the booming bass car stereos thump-thumping past at all hours of the day and night, the loud motorcycles and modified car engines speeding by (and sometimes shaking) the bedroom windows, the honking of car horns, idling traffic on weekdays between 3:15 and 5:30 PM, the rooster across the street who crows at odd hours -- and that's just the noises. We also get more than our fair share of door-to-door solicitors selling (nonexistent, outrageously expensive) magazine subscriptions, political supporters spreading the word about their candidate or cause, people seeking donations for some legitimate charities and some questionable charities, Boy Scouts selling mulch (which was a welcome sales pitch - bought eight bags), assorted Jehovah's Witnesses, one lady selling sad string-art (not making this up) and a few confused people who thought our house was for rent. After Chad's car got side-swiped back in December, one bold soul knocked on the door offering his car-fixing services.

Once an unscheduled handyman showed up at our house in his clearly marked company vehicle wearing his company uniform. When I politely told him I wasn't expecting a handyman, he claimed he had the wrong house. This was shortly after our house was robbed, so of course I got a bit paranoid wondering if he was casing our house to see which easily-pawned items we might have replaced.

Yesterday had to be the oddest door-knocker during our habitation of the 1952 house. At noon, a man in full military fatigues stood on the stoop. Janie-dog (fifty-five pounds of mixed-breed protective services) accompanied me to the door. The man (hopefully a legitimate member of the military?) said he was sorry to bother me, but that some road debris had lodged itself under the front of his SUV. He asked to borrow a serrated knife. (All the better to stab me with?! my inner Little Red Riding Hood wondered.) Our house sits near one of the main routes to the military reserves base. He was in full fatigues with his name on his chest, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I brought him an old, short blade serrated knife. He thanked me and said he'd leave the knife on the front stoop when he was done. I locked the door tight behind him, just in case. He left the knife as promised when he was done. I don't trust an unscheduled handyman in company car and uniform, but I do trust a young man in military fatigues who seems worried that he's running late.

Safety First

I am saddened and sickened by the man who flew his small plane into an office building here in Austin last Thursday. This column by Austin American-Statesman's John Kelso sums up my similar feelings on the situation.

I had nightmares Thursday night after viewing news coverage of the crash. Friday night I had trouble sleeping at all. Saturday night I dreamed that our house was robbed again. Monday night while running errands, I drove past the burnt-out shell of the IRS building. It looked like a hulking ghost.

We try to be safe: wearing seat-belts, locking doors, looking both ways before crossing the road, taking vitamins, washing hands... For all the precautions we take, we can't completely avoid danger. Or get adequate sleep.

Spring Fever

Sunday we enjoyed a high temperature of 77 degrees. Chad and I (along with a LOT of other Austin residents & visitors) went kayaking on Ladybird Lake. A person can't ask for a nicer taste of spring than that. Even though Saturday was overcast and chilly, the garden stores were full of lovely spring plants. I wanted to go on a plant-buying spree, but I refrained.

Today the high will be 36 degrees with strong chance of snow and/or sleet. It's okay. I'm going to enjoy it, because summer will be here with its relentless heat and sun all too soon.

Celebrate Your Love with a Murder Mystery Dinner

I'm in another dinner theater show that's open to the public. You might think it's odd to celebrate Valentine's Eve with a whodunnit dinner show. Honestly, so do I. The upside to watching a mystery show on date night is that you're so busy trying to pay attention to clues and solve the crime while eating your yummy dinner, that there's no room for awkward date conversation or awkward periods of silence. That's gotta be good for new romances and long-standing romances alike. Just sayin'.

Saturday, February 13
Enjoy a three course meal & three act show.
$50 per person, not including tax & tip.
Show starts promptly at 7:30.
Dave & Buster's Austin
Call 512-346-8015 for reservations.

Temple Grandin

If you have HBO, set your video recorder for the premiere of the biopic Temple Grandin tonight at 7:00 Central / 8:00 Eastern. Filmed in the Austin area, starring Claire Danes, this movie recreates the fascinating history of Temple Grandin - a talented and intelligent, autistic woman who researched and designed advances in the humane treatment of cattle and who also serves as an advocate for autistic people. I watched the film Thursday night at HBO's Texas premiere party, and loved it. The story was touching, visually artful and humorous. While watching I completely forgot about Claire Danes as an actress, and was immersed in Temple Grandin's personae. Claire Danes did an amazing job. I don't want to give anything about the story away, so no spoilers here.

HBO kindly and thoughtfully hosted a lovely premiere event at the Austin Convention Center with Temple Grandin herself speaking after the movie. Ms. Grandin spoke with charm, wit and passion about her research and about living with autism. I'm so glad I was invited to attend. HBO also gave copies of Ms. Grandin's book Thinking in Pictures to guests. I'm looking forward to reading it!

Friends, you may remember me gushing over getting to work on this film as a 1965 airline stewardess. You can see my back in the first scene. I'm in a beige stewardess outfit with my hair in a bun and a pillbox hat. Honestly, I'm a tad disappointed that my face isn't visible in the film, but that's such a shallow complaint in light of this great story. I'm blessed that I was able to be a teeny-tiny part of such a wonderful project.

Emerging from the Germs

I spent the better part of December and January with a tenacious cold-sinus infection-bronchitis bug. Lots of coughing, nose-blowing, tiredness and general malaise. I made it to the gym a few times for slower than usual, lighter than usual, less frequent than usual workouts. Chad took over most of the dog walking duties. I spent more time than usual at the house drinking more hot tea than usual and going through way more boxes of tissues than usual.

My major accomplishment during this sick time was finishing the pictured 1000-piece puzzle with Chad's assistance.



I'm now ready to get back to my usual schedule of going to the gym three times a week, keeping up with the chores and walking the dog a few miles everyday. Wish me luck!

There, in the sky, that's weird.

Our precious pooch, Janie, alerted me to the presence of an enormous kite in our airspace last week. In full Lassie-mode, Janie whipped her head towards the giant kite on the horizon, then whipped her head back to me, urging me with her eyes to make that thing leave. She trotted back and forth between me and the fence barking with concern.

I tried to get Janie inside and distract her from the perceived threat in the sky, but she wasn't having it. Janie very rarely jumps at the door, but this kite had to be stopped, even if she had to open the door herself. After ten minutes of continuous barking and jumping at the door, I went back outside with her. We sat on the deck steps together. I hugged her tight and repeated, "it's okay. It's not going to get you." Still she watched worriedly, giving warning yips every few minutes. Even after the kite's merciful retreat, Janie wanted to run out every few minutes and check the sky for interlopers.

Tonight as I sat reading and Chad sat tapping on his keyboard, we heard Janie talking in her sleep, giving quiet tight-lipped yips. Chad quipped, "she's saying, don't let that kite get me. She's having a kite-mare."

Donate Now

If you have not already donated money to the Haiti earthquake disaster relief, I implore you to do so now. I donated through UNICEF. Here is the email message I received today:
_________________________________________________________________

Words fail: up to two million children are at risk in Haiti right now.

Separated from their families. Trapped under rubble. Countless newly orphaned. Desperate.

Every moment matters: donate NOW and 100% of every dollar to the U.S. Fund for UNICEF will go directly to fund child-saving relief efforts in Haiti.

We can save these children. I say this because I've seen your generosity and I've seen UNICEF's response. Less than 48 hours ago, UNICEF delivered to Port-au-Prince:
10,000 tarpaulins
4,600 water containers
5.5 million water purification tablets
556,000 oral rehydration sachets
These supplies are bringing critical relief to up to 10,000 families. An additional 20,000 families will receive similar supplies momentarily. But it's not enough and these two million children are relying completely on international relief.

Please give now: every gift will save a life, and 100% of your donation will go directly to UNICEF to support relief efforts.

Children in Haiti have nowhere to go. No homes, no hospitals, no government aid centers. There is literally nothing beyond what you and I and the rest of the relief community can provide.

Yes, delivering relief into the country has been exceedingly difficult. Yes, logistics and communications have taken time.

But this means nothing in the face of these children who need us. We will do whatever it takes to save these children, no matter how difficult, how seemingly impossible.

Please, help us save more lives.

With humility,
Caryl M. Stern
President and CEO
U.S. Fund for UNICEF


P.S. The U.S. Fund for UNICEF is absorbing all administrative fees associated with handling your donation, so that you can be confident 100% of every dollar you give will go directly to relief efforts.

Happy New Year!

I'm paraphrasing Charles Dickens from A Tale of Two Cities here: 2009, it rocked in some ways and sucked in others.

Rocked:

Chad started his own business with two great partners that exceeded our best expectations!

Chad discovered the joys of actually living at home versus spending far too much time on business travel.

I actually got to spend time with Chad and have a handsome date to dinner and events.

I was fortunate to work as a production assistant for the auditions for Broadway's Spiderman musical. It was a blast! 250 amazingly talented young people auditioned for two roles. Two were chosen to move on to New York City!

We spent the equivalent $ of a European vacation on a new HVAC system which is much more eco-friendly and works great.

We welcomed Harper to one branch of the family tree and Regan to the other branch. Hello, nieces!

Our sweet pets: Marigold, Kenji, Sonic and Janie are all still with us - happy and healthy.

Sucked:

We spent the equivalent $ of a European vacation on a new HVAC system.

Chad learned some of the pitfalls of running his own business during back-to-back all-nighters on the phone with India.

We lost Chad's Papa F. Consequently, Chad spent his birthday this year at Papa's funeral.

Our sweet 1952 house got robbed. We're still recovering financially, physically (door repairs / painting replacements) and emotionally from this major inconvenience.

One month after the extended warranty ended on my car, we spent the equivalent $ of a deluxe domestic vacation on my (stupid) car repairs. Three words: Melted Engine Parts.

Chad's car got side-swiped parked on the street in front of our house mere days ago. To quote Chad, "it looks like a beater-car now".

Goodbye, 2009. We'll not forget you and your events. You had flair for drama, friend!

Glamorous!

Much of my life as an actress is not at all glamorous. Tonight's peak behind-the-scenes found me in the greenroom gluing on fake nails for tonight's dinner mystery show while running lines with my fellow-actors. I rocked those nails during the show, and will rock them for a few more days as that glue is strong! Classy, right?

The Dave & Buster's showroom may not be Broadway, but I had a blast helping the audience celebrate New Year's Eve. I've never gotten so many hugs after a show. Thanks to all who came out! I'm so blessed to get paid for doing what I love!

Old Year's Resolutions

Instead of looking forward to 2010 just yet, I must attend to some unfinished business for 2009.

1. Paint the exterior door frames after getting new security doors.
2. Finish installing all the new doorknobs and locks.
3. Get all the new locks re-keyed to match so I don't have six different house keys to carry around. I'd like to cut that number to two house keys.
4. Make key copies to distribute to a select number of responsible friends who can come to my aid when I lock myself out of the house or when I need a cat-sitter. Don't all volunteer at once...
5. Hand-wash cashmere sweaters. I think I procrastinate over this task, because I don't love the smell of wet goat and Woolite. However, I do like having my choice of clean sweaters on cold days.
6. Learn lines for New Year's Eve show.
7. Shamelessly plug the New Year's Eve show even though I'm sheepish about people I know seeing these shows. Just remember, it's not high-art, and it's all in good, silly fun.

New Year's Eve at Dave & Buster's in Austin!

hilarious three-act mystery
chef crafted three-course dinner
complimentary power card for games
midnight countdown with champagne toast, dancing and DJ!
doors open at 7:30pm
dinner & performance begin at 8:30pm

Space is limited. Call Special Events at 512-346-8015 today!
$64.99 per person (plus tax & gratuity).
Reservations required.

Open Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

We got our new security doors and new, sturdier side door installed this week. This is great, except that we now have a lot of painting to do of door frames and the new door. I know it's a busy time of year, but maybe you could spare an elf to help us paint? Please.

Other than help with the never-ending list of home-maintenance projects, the gifts I want this year aren't things that the elves can build. I want more fun times with friends; more travel with Chad to places such as Washington D.C., New York City, Boston, Ireland and Marfa; more moments of discovery and joy.

I apologize that we haven't decorated for Christmas yet, unless you count putting the red & green collar on the dog, but we've been awfully busy. We're gonna get right on that tomorrow!

So, um, what time can I expect the painter-elf to arrive?

Love,
Jenn

My Favorite Things

I'm sure you've all heard that Oprah is not doing a "Favorite Things" episode this year. To fill the void, I'm splashing out with my own spin on "Favorite Things".

I love this necklace. It's sparkly, lovely and handmade.


These condos are my favorite addition to the overcrowded condo market in Austin. They've been designed in an eco-friendly manner, are in a great neighborhood, and each unit has a private balcony and rooftop terrace! I'm thankful for my 1952 house, but a girl can dream.

This scarf adds a little flash to outfits. It's from Martin & Osa. I find that Martin & Osa is my favorite chain store lately.


My favorite local store in Austin, Adelante, happens to be located mere blocks from our house.


Book People earned the title of the largest, independent book store, and features great staff selections for books. While Book People is my favorite book store, Half Price Books is a very close second.



I'm not much of a foodie. A good self-serve salad bar makes me happy. The Whole Foods at 5th Street and Lamar Boulevard has an amazing salad bar with lots of vegetarian selections.


I love me some scented candles. Lights Out Candles are produced locally with soy wax and lead-free wicks. The nag champa scent is so delicious and earthy smelling.


My favorite self-indulgence is a visit to Milk and Honey Spa. I've been to both locations and find the atmosphere and services heavenly.


Readers, I hope this helps with your withdrawal process during the Oprah no "Favorite Things" kerfuffle. Don't bother looking under your seats for any of these items, but you might want to vacuum under there.

Workin' On It

A very nice handyman repaired and reinforced the door jamb and door frame just a few days after the door-kick-in-house-robbery back in early October. However, we're still working on cosmetic repairs. I painted the exterior of the front door frame and door yesterday and today. Chad continues to toil at the task of repairing the drywall and texture around the inside of the front door frame. Then I'll paint that area.

One good thing about prepping the front door to be painted was that I cleaned off a year's worth of dirt, dead bugs and spiderwebs from the entryway. Ewww. It looks much better now.

I've ordered the security storm doors and a new, much sturdier door for the carport entry. All should be installed by mid-December.

After gathering and submitting much paperwork, we got our check from the insurance company (minus the $1000 deductible and depreciated value of our stuff versus the actual replacement cost). We opted not to replace some of the stuff that was stolen. Between beefing up security at the 1952 house and replacing some of our items, it's been an expensive venture.

I still hesitate to leave the house. I have a somewhat irrational fear that if an opportunistic robber sees my car gone or sees me leave with Janie-dog on foot, our house will be robbed again. I'm working on shedding that fear.

Happy Pre-Halloween

We skipped the hosting of the sometimes-annual BYOP shindig this year, but we couldn't skip pumpkin carving altogether. As usual, Chad's is super-arty, masterfully crafted and generally cooler than mine. I'm just the weensiest bit bitter and jealous about his mad jack-o-lantern skills. Love his ode to Dia de los Muertos. I was feeling lazy and did the bedazzled cat face.



And here's our spider-friend. I call him Hector.

No BYOP This Year. Come to a Show Instead!

Sadly, the recent break-in at our house was the final nail in the coffin of this year's BYOP party. Chad and I decided not to host our sometimes-annual pumpkin carving party this year. We're both tired and over-scheduled. Life has thrown too many curveballs of late.

However, if you want to share in some Halloween fun with me, I'll be in two dinner mystery shows for Halloween. Both shows are open to the public. Costumes are encouraged as you will be attending Victoria Van dor Voort's (that's my character's) annual Halloween party in the year of 1929. When rumors start circulating the party of a little dip in the stock market, the accountant better watch his back! (October 29, 1929 -- google it if you need a little perspective.)

Friday, October 30, 2009

ONLY $50 PER PERSON!
(Includes tax/gratuity for dinner, the show and a fun costume contest with prizes!)

DAVE & BUSTERS
9333 RESEARCH BLVD #A600
512-346-8015 FOR RESERVATIONS

&

Saturday October 31, 2009
ONLY $33.50 PER PERSON!
(Not including tax/gratuity for dinner and the show.)

Spaghetti Warehouse
117 W 4th St. Austin, TX
512-825-1253 FOR RESERVATIONS

The Show Must Go On. Twice.

Late Friday night I canceled a movie date, because I felt queasy. Just after midnight, the misery began. Repeated mass exodus of all nutrients out of my body occurred approximately every 45 minutes. By 7:00 AM Saturday I was convinced I was dying, and had almost convinced Chad of my imminent demise. Spoiler Alert: I survived, but still don't have much of an appetite. By 9:00 AM, I drank a Diet Coke, and kept it down/in.

During the violent bouts of dry-heaving, I burst little blood vessels all over my face, and had smatterings of blood-red freckles all over my face. I did not feel pretty - not at all. I could barely stand long enough in the shower to wash my hair without feeling faint and weak. I had to rest for a few moments before mustering the energy to blow-dry my hair.

Then I got to go to Dave & Buster's and perform TWO three-act dinner mystery shows back-to-back for 270 Chi-Omega sisters and their parents. Four hours of delivering lines at the top of my lungs, in constant motion in five-inch heels, wearing a floor-length, jewel-encrusted evening gown that probably weighs in at five pounds. It's called devotion to the craft. (That, and having an understudy who no one likes anymore.)

That which doesn't kill me can only make me feel stronger... or leave me exhausted for five days trying to recover. I'm still so tired.

No, I don't know where I got it if it was food poisoning. If it was a stomach bug, then Chad has an amazing immune system, because he hasn't gotten it. No, I'm POSITIVE that I'm not pregnant.

We Were Robbed. It Sucks.

Friday I came home from an audition to find the front door of our 1952 house ajar with a dusty footprint on the door. I nudged the door open to see our TV gone from its usual spot and the open cabinet door revealing the dusty outline where the Xbox 360 normally resided. Before I assess the rest of the mayhem, I quickly check all the pets. One, two, three cats, all staring at me expectantly. One, large, apparently not-at-all-menacing dog still in her crate, unharmed.

I wedge the front door closed by placing my purse on the floor in front of it, because that door is not closing back into the shattered frame. I call 911, and they ask if the robber is still in my house. Hmm... I didn't even look, this being my first home robbery and all. I brandish my pepper-spray and ask the operator to stay on the line as I check. Nope. Just me and the pets now. The 911 operator tells me to call the non-emergency number, 311. Um, as Kate D. likes to say, that number is for mattresses in the road. I've been robbed! I accept that my stuff being taken, and rifled through and tossed about, is not a true police emergency. I call 311. A different nice operator stays on the line with me as I walk through the house surveying the mess, debris, damage and chaos. The nice operator gives me a case number and says she'll send a crime unit officer over to photograph the shoe print on the front door and dust for other prints.

Then I call Chad and give my standard emergency assessment speech preamble, "I'm safe and the pets are all safe, but..." followed by the non-standard, "we've been robbed. The front door was kicked in, and I can't get it closed now, and I'm a little scared to be in here alone right now." Sweet Chad makes the two-mile commute home in record time, hugs me, hugs the pets, and we start with the phone calls: the insurance company, several handyman services to see who can make it out the soonest to repair the door frame, the 311 police line again to report more stuff missing. We wait for the crime scene unit police officer to show up. She photographs the scene, takes the foot print, tells me she likes the rugs and paint colors in our house. A neighbor runs over and gives the officer the license plate number and description of two suspicious characters who may, or may not, be the robbers.

Finally, Chad and I are left to vacuum and put things away. Every drawer and cabinet (except for the locked file cabinet -- thank God I locked the 200-pound file cabinet!) has been opened and searched. Eww. Strangers touched our stuff.

I am fascinated by the random things taken such as cheap, fake gold jewelry. Yet my jewelry box sat totally intact. My six-year-old iPod which has my full name engraved on the back is gone with its power cord. My limping-along, three-year-old laptop, with its chipped plastic casing, which has four different passwords to access files or even to use the computer at all, is gone along with its power cord. (Thank God I obsessively back up the computer every ten days to an external hard drive, which was hidden and locked up tight.) The serial numbers for all the stolen electronics are on the police stolen merchandise lists now. Not that I have any hope of ever recovering any of it.

My advice to all of you reading this: get a reinforced door frame or door jamb. You can have a steel door (which we do) with three different locks on it (which we do), but if your door frame is old wood (guilty), it can easily be kicked in. Our neighbors who had their door kicked in a few years ago also advocate a security storm door with shatterproof glass-like material and three bolts that jut into the wall when locked.

Yeah, I'll be adding two security storm doors to my birthday wish list.

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.