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?