Running to auditions

Yesterday I had an audition in an older part of town. Cool open studio space but it was sitting on the third story of a very steep flight of stairs. With all the excitement and energy, I quickly jogged to the top only to reach it. Only then I was winded and in need of my inhaler.

They probably wondered why I was so breathy in my monologue. Lol

Advice from one who went before

At the ripe old age of 4-, I am finally making the leap into adulthood by moving in with my boyfriend slash partner. And that move of course involves many little administrative duties like changing the address on your Netflix account, and making sure your name is on the buzzer. But there are other tasks, little mine fields -- really odd things you may not have thought of before -- especially if you've lived alone for most of those previous 4- years. Here's a short list of the things I now know, and my advice to you on how to tackle them.

1. The first time you write the new address
   It's going to shock you how this will affect you, as if all of your life has come to this one moment of success. My first time was on a photo release in an Agent's office.
   Advice: No one cares, so don't bother telling them why you're smiling and also crying real tears on to the legal documentation.
2. Emergency Contact
   When you have to look up the phone number in your phone you will feel like a schmuck.
   Advice: This is not your fault, modern technology is the culprit. No need for the mea culpas.
3. The forgotten space
   There will be a space -- whether it be a closet, drawer or gap behind a chair -- that will shock you by the usage. Your jaw may drop by what you find. Mine was an upper cabinet in the kitchen which contained a collection of paper bags from the ages.
   Advice: Ask before pitching, because you won't believe how much he may have wanted to keep that vintage Macy's bag that apparantly he was birthed in, based on the level of response.
4. The bathroom closet
   If #3 didn't get you, this one will do you in. Resist the urge to discuss whatever it is you find in there. There will be something, I assure you. My boyfriend reads this, so I'm not listing the found items here, but...just...wow!
   Advice: Do not engage.
5. Why is this here?
   The dining room table is set for 10, and on no occasion in the last year has there been a dinner party for that size. And boy a comfy chair would be awesome in that window at seat #8.
   Advice: Plan your strategy wisely. This will be a multi-month conversation and you aren't going to win most of those conversations, even for a minute. But sometime in the future you will catch him with just enough sleep deprivation, and intoxication, that this dining room table will be set for 4 and we will get that comfy chair. As God is my witness...we will get that comfy chair in the sun!

Oh Apple!

Just got home and Rob, the BF, queued up the Apple TV announcement from today. Oh the marketing. The glorious marketing. I didn't see much difference frankly, mostly aesthetic, but whatevs. 

Ice is nice

Two days ago, I stopped by The Chopping Block and picked up a ice cube tray that makes giant cubes for premium drinking. I had a gruelling commute last night, and was thrilled that the cubes were ready for use when I got home. I made a very delicious, stirred manhattan, which I sipped while nibbling spicy pork rinds and watching Coven.

The salad bar tub

I've been terrible about reading the weather this season, and as a result it seems to always catch me by surprise. Case in point: today. Was it supposed to snow again? I'm flummoxed.

And as it turned out, I forgot to bring lunch. Thankfully, there is a small restaurant in my building and they have a fairly extensive salad bar (hot and cold).  As I was filling my container, I noted an "attendant", watching and waiting diligently to bring anything new that was needed. I used to have that job myself, back in the day. While I was still in college, for summers I would come home and stay with my Grandma, who worked as head cook at a restaurant in town. It was themed sort of: the restaurant was in the cafeteria of a school that had closed down and been converted to a craft mall. The decor: country tacky. The food: brilliant buffet, down home and homemade. Six days a week, my Grandma cooked everything herself: soups, breads, five different kinds of old fashioned salads, mashed potatoes and gravy from scratch, roast beef, ham...and the list goes on. I was a soux chef of sorts when I worked with her. I would get up at 3:30am and drive her to work, then come back at 5:30 to start my day. I would prepare immaculate presentations of coleslaw, potato salad, stewed apples, pickled beets, tropical fruit salad, marshmallow salad, cucumbers and tomatoes.

At 10:30am every morning, I would begin to present the salad bar, which was served in an antique

claw-foot tub. I would fill it with ice from the bar, then place very artistically antique bowls filled with the brilliant foodstuffs I had prepared. I was so proud of my work and frequently received raves from the owners for my attention to details. The potato salad would be sprinkled with paprika and then adorned with paper-thin slices of bell pepper. The stewed apples had a rose made from apple peel. The marshmallow salad would have concentric rings of maraschino cherries decorating the top. And then -- very old-fashioned now in retrospect -- every bowl was under laid with endive lettuce. The effect was a chilly green field, sprinkled with jewels to be tasted.

When the restaurant opened at 11:30am, my job was to watch the entire line of food to be sure it was always filled and presentable. I would stand at attention for hours with my starched, white apron and a clean dishtowel handy for spills. The only problem: the restaurant didn't do any business. It was set in an out of the way location and most of the people who wandered in took a look at the tacky decor and wandered away again.

But only after marveling at my beautiful, salad bar tub.

A close one

I am really grateful that a certain set of people for the most part seem to find me interesting, enough to talk with, listen to, agree to meet for dinner. It occurred to me today that it may not have been thus, and may not always be so. Thanks, dear reader! 

Thanksgiving Lessons Learned

1. Always eat at someone's house who LOVES to eat. If they don't LOVE to eat, then that meal is going to be crap.

2. Traditions are important. Don't fuck with more than one. 

3. Try out a new idea each year. Maybe choose one dish from the year that was exemplary and add that to the menu. You never know what may catch on. 

4. Don't eat alone, no matter the reasons. Trust me. 

5. Since the main part of the holiday focus is the meal, make it a long event. Focus on courses, even if you're serving buffet-style. This is most important at the dessert course: make coffee and after dinner drinks. Enjoy the evening together. 

6. Everyone must participate. Everyone must bring something. It's important. It's about demonstrating our thankfulness for the abudance we have been given, even if that has been slighter this year. Bring what you can, even if that's paper plates or ice, or a song for the table after dinner.