However, before we get to the camel, I must backtrack slightly.
If you recall, in my last post, I talked about the old Gourmet cookbook instructing one to stuff an olive. Well, after I finished blogging, I continued reading the cookbook (the alternative was cleaning house, and we all know how much that idea attracts me). In the dessert chapter, they suggest stuffing...are you ready?...A RAISIN. I am going to stop reading old Gourmet cookbooks, that's all there is to that.
So after my little break there, things revved up again. Memorial Day I did nothing, nor did anything fascinating happen the rest of that week, but this past week I did Monday,Tuesday and Friday at the law firm, with Andrew the lawyer driving me completely crazy...he wants me to do an involved job involving opening files, some 40 of them, all of which need letters and various things, but he won't quit making me stop doing it by giving me other stuff to do. This is extremely irritating.
However, when I was out to lunch on Tuesday, I checked my phone on the way back and found a text message asking me if I was free for Boardwalk on Wednesday! Well, of course. I'm ALWAYS free for Boardwalk, my favorite thing in the world to do.
So location bus at 6 am Wednesday, and out to the actual Boardwalk set for the first time this season, to discover that the set has grown. It gave birth to a whole Midway behind itself...an old fashioned (well, um, what else, given the time frame of the show) rowdy Midway with a freak show, and hit the milk bottle with the ball and win a prize and a shooting booth and popcorn and all day suckers and all that. We were a little light on the freaks...all we had was a fat lady (nice gal, clad in miles of shocking pink satin) and a very tall man (6'8" or so), but they were quite energetic in beckoning all of us to the show. We had a flea circus, too...and the aforementioned camel. Yup, an actual camel. I heard that I missed the elephant the previous week on set, but you can't have everything.
A nice long day in terms of earning money, but exhausting...the set is behind and below the boardwalk set, which is raised, so you don't get a breeze back there, and we're in those layers of costume, and it was about 80 degrees. And as you can't train a camel to use deodorant, it got pretty whiffy too...unless that was us in all that wool. Could be.
So a rest on Thursday and then back to the law office to be annoyed all day Friday, followed by a night at the Bistro for my band. I am now so exhausted I can't see straight because I am an idiot...I kept forgetting to buy ice cream (which is my unfailing soporific) all week and being too damn lazy to go to the deli (not to mention the fact that by the time I figured out I wasn't getting to sleep, it kept getting to be 1:30 or 2 in the morning and I would have had to get sort of dressed again). The result was that I've been running on four hours of sleep a night all week. Last night when I got home I was sitting here reading before I went to bed and started to literally fall off my chair...I got to bed around 1:30 or 2 and woke up again at 6, which was annoying. Luckily I was smart enough to eat something and go back to bed, where I slept until 2:30 in the afternoon. It is now 8:30 and I'm going to eat something else and go to bed...and I even have ice cream for any umexpected insomniac disasters. Yay, me!
Love, Wendy
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Things Are Slowing Down
Well, that was interesting. About ten minutes after that last post, the phone rang, and it was John and Jeanne asking me out for a drink...so I hopped in the fastest shower ever and grabbed a cab and met them at the Bistro. Unfortunately, I hung out after they left, which was a mistake...ah, well.
So I skipped Jiggers' set on Thursday night, but went to the other band's set on Friday.
And then it was Saturday and Fair Day! As always, piles of old friends to say hello to...fellow PS41 parents, old drinking buddies, and the roving band at our table. Then for reasons that are entirely unclear to me (probably having to do with going to the Bistro after the Fair, not to mention all that beer AT the Fair), it seemed like a wonderful notion to join Sarah and friends to go up to 118th Street to see our friends for their last porch party before they move out to Brooklyn. It was fun...and I almost managed to stay awake in the car service coming home. Frankly, it'll be easier to get to them, or at least easier to get home from them, when they move to Brooklyn. Given that I live on the Lower East Side, the Williamsburg Bridge is MUCH faster than the FDR.
And since then? Nothing, nada, nil. This is probably a good idea, actually...I've been having nice long naps which I probably need after all this bouncing around.
Tonight I actually cooked myself a decent meal (as opposed to just sort of grabbing something)...I got some asparagus, and a little steak, and I cooked a potato, and it was lovely, thank you. As usual, I read a cookbook while eating, and I ran across something that I don't think I ever noticed before in my old 60s Gourmet cookbook...which, as we all know, is a positive motherlode of things nobody in their right mind would ever do, such as stuffing black olives with a pastry tube.
This one is a take on deviled eggs. You stuff pitted black olives with creamed blue cheese. Put one olive in each egg white and fill the egg white with finely chopped pimento. Cover the rim of the egg with butter mixed with chopped parsley and dust with paprika. Stud generously with toasted slivered almonds. ARE THESE PEOPLE INSANE?
First of all, what do you do with the egg yolks? This being Gourmet, I'm gonna presume that you mix them with truffles or some damn thing and stuff them into something else. But never mind the egg yolks. Who in their right mind stuffs an olive with anything, except those nice manufacturers who have nice big factories to do it? (I'm partial to anchovy stuffed olives myself.) The pimento sounds okay, I guess, but covering the rim of the egg with butter? How would you do this? I imagine you use another pastry tube...I mean, you wouldn't want to break your insane momentum by having to wash the one you used to stuff those olives, right? But HOW? The rim of a hard boiled egg white is pretty thin, or at least it is when I hard boil eggs for deviling. And unless you're serving these on a bed of ice, wouldn't the butter start to get awfully soft? This sounds messy to eat, but perhaps they mean it to be a plated first course at the table. I guess the ladies of the era were just grateful that Gourmet didn't suggest doing this recipe using three dozen of those tiny quail eggs. But honestly...
Ah, well, this is not now nor will it EVER be my problem. If I hard boil eggs, I use mustard, mayo, salt and pepper, pickle relish, and maybe a pinch or so of curry powder, mash it all together with a fork and throw it in the egg whites with a teaspoon. There. Done.
And Carolyn, Adrian is Sarah's most recent boyfriend, who is a very nice guy...nice and mellow, which is a good contrast for my kid, who tends toward Speedy Gonzalez. He even seems to enjoy our cross-talk comedian conversations, unlike Seth, a previous boyfriend, who would always sit around totally bemildred, having NO idea what we were talking about.
And to the rest of my readers..."bemildred" is not a typo, it's a childhood joke. So there.
With any luck, I'll have something more interesting to say the next time I post...and if all else fails, there's always the vanity press page in the Book Review on Sunday, or another old cookbook to mine.
Love, Wendy
So I skipped Jiggers' set on Thursday night, but went to the other band's set on Friday.
And then it was Saturday and Fair Day! As always, piles of old friends to say hello to...fellow PS41 parents, old drinking buddies, and the roving band at our table. Then for reasons that are entirely unclear to me (probably having to do with going to the Bistro after the Fair, not to mention all that beer AT the Fair), it seemed like a wonderful notion to join Sarah and friends to go up to 118th Street to see our friends for their last porch party before they move out to Brooklyn. It was fun...and I almost managed to stay awake in the car service coming home. Frankly, it'll be easier to get to them, or at least easier to get home from them, when they move to Brooklyn. Given that I live on the Lower East Side, the Williamsburg Bridge is MUCH faster than the FDR.
And since then? Nothing, nada, nil. This is probably a good idea, actually...I've been having nice long naps which I probably need after all this bouncing around.
Tonight I actually cooked myself a decent meal (as opposed to just sort of grabbing something)...I got some asparagus, and a little steak, and I cooked a potato, and it was lovely, thank you. As usual, I read a cookbook while eating, and I ran across something that I don't think I ever noticed before in my old 60s Gourmet cookbook...which, as we all know, is a positive motherlode of things nobody in their right mind would ever do, such as stuffing black olives with a pastry tube.
This one is a take on deviled eggs. You stuff pitted black olives with creamed blue cheese. Put one olive in each egg white and fill the egg white with finely chopped pimento. Cover the rim of the egg with butter mixed with chopped parsley and dust with paprika. Stud generously with toasted slivered almonds. ARE THESE PEOPLE INSANE?
First of all, what do you do with the egg yolks? This being Gourmet, I'm gonna presume that you mix them with truffles or some damn thing and stuff them into something else. But never mind the egg yolks. Who in their right mind stuffs an olive with anything, except those nice manufacturers who have nice big factories to do it? (I'm partial to anchovy stuffed olives myself.) The pimento sounds okay, I guess, but covering the rim of the egg with butter? How would you do this? I imagine you use another pastry tube...I mean, you wouldn't want to break your insane momentum by having to wash the one you used to stuff those olives, right? But HOW? The rim of a hard boiled egg white is pretty thin, or at least it is when I hard boil eggs for deviling. And unless you're serving these on a bed of ice, wouldn't the butter start to get awfully soft? This sounds messy to eat, but perhaps they mean it to be a plated first course at the table. I guess the ladies of the era were just grateful that Gourmet didn't suggest doing this recipe using three dozen of those tiny quail eggs. But honestly...
Ah, well, this is not now nor will it EVER be my problem. If I hard boil eggs, I use mustard, mayo, salt and pepper, pickle relish, and maybe a pinch or so of curry powder, mash it all together with a fork and throw it in the egg whites with a teaspoon. There. Done.
And Carolyn, Adrian is Sarah's most recent boyfriend, who is a very nice guy...nice and mellow, which is a good contrast for my kid, who tends toward Speedy Gonzalez. He even seems to enjoy our cross-talk comedian conversations, unlike Seth, a previous boyfriend, who would always sit around totally bemildred, having NO idea what we were talking about.
And to the rest of my readers..."bemildred" is not a typo, it's a childhood joke. So there.
With any luck, I'll have something more interesting to say the next time I post...and if all else fails, there's always the vanity press page in the Book Review on Sunday, or another old cookbook to mine.
Love, Wendy
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
All Kinds of A Social Life
Well, talk about your social whirl! My social whirl, actually. Or it looks pretty whirly to me, since my usual activities in that direction consist of going to Sarah's Brooklyneer job (a different bar...she's not at the Bistro any more) once a week. The Brooklyneer, by the way, is in Manhattan...don't ask.
So the day after my Boardwalk stint, I went off to a bar in Soho called Boom, which is a place I happen to basically dislike. The reason is that I only ever go there when my pal Tracey is in town, and since she now lives near Rome, I only get to see her about once a year. Therefore, I would like to be able to sit and catch up with her activities...you know, have a conversation. However, Tracey's taste in bars is loud, crowded and expensive, which makes this difficult. But since this is her favorite place in NY, I just bite the bullet. Luckily, this time around we at least (me and Philippe and a friend of his and acquaintance of mine named Angel, and a couple of friends of Angel's, one of whom was a former Miss Atlanta and a darling gal) got a table fairly far away from the live band, so at least I didn't have to scream (much) to be heard. At any rate, a good (if expensive...who charges 8 bucks for a lousy bottle of Budweiser?) time was had by all.
Then on Friday, my pal Jiggers was playing at the Bistrto, so I went to hear him. He had brought his drummer with him, Jon, but unfortunately Jon had been on a tear for a few days and played the first couple of numbers with Jiggers, but then proceeded to fall off his drum set, which enlivened the performance no end. Jiggers convinced him that going home (or at least somewhere else) was probably a good idea.
Quiet weekend, then a stint with the lawyer on Monday which couldn't have been worse timing. I had been mentioning to Sarah that I had a yen for ham...good, home baked ham. I hate that thin sliced flabby deli stuff, and somehow I never seem to get over to the Polish butcher on 2nd Avenue who has the good ham. So Sarah replied by asking 10 people to dinner for Monday.
Yes, well...so Sunday was occupied by grocery shopping followed by making what in our house is called P.S. 41 salad, because it's the macaroni salad recipe I always made every year for Sarah's grammar school potluck, and baking two large chunks of ham. This was because I know from experience that ham goes VERY fast in my house...so since I couldn't get a 16 pound half ham, which is what I was looking for, I got two shank halves just under 10 pounds each. If this sounds like overkill, you have to understand that we have one friend at least (who unfortunately wasn't at dinner) who can go through a 10 pound ham singlehandedly.
So Sarah and Adrian came over Monday while I was at work and put together green salad and deviled eggs and got cheese and various breads and crackers...and I came home for the festivities.
Dear Sarah. She someone managed to collect a group of her absolutely best...vegan and vegetarian friends. This was certainly not intentional...it's just the attrition that occurs whenever you invite a largeish group over for what is essentially a sort of casual potluck type meal in Manhattan. Now if anyone can tell me what the hell to do with the remaining, UNTOUCHED almost ten pound ham...actually, I know what I'm going to do with it, which is slice it up and freeze it in meal size portions. Luckily, as stated above, I LOVE ham. Anyway, we had a lovely time.
Then I did nothing whatsoever for the rest of the week until Friday, when my friends John and Jeanne arrived in town and I met up with them at an art show in a bar in my neighborhood...Jeanne's son is an artist. We had a great time; John's an old acting pal and I love Jeanne dearly, but they live in LA now, so obviously casual nights out together are a little difficult. Actually, I see more of Jeanne than I do of John these days, since her son has been in art school here and she's in a lot more frequently than John is. And Larry joined us...another part of the acting crew that includes me and John. We all met doing a perfectly awful production of Richard III, and like soldiers who fought a war together, we remained friends. I was so glad to see Larry. For madly complicated reasons (short version...we dated for a while and he thought that I wanted a firm commitment, which I didn't, and now he refuses to be friends in the sense that he never calls, or answers emails, or anything because he thinks...God knows what he thinks). I never get to see him unless someone else arranges it (i.e., a Richard reunion or John being in town), and I love him dearly.
And finally, Mother's Day turned up. Sarah and Adrian took me to brunch in Brooklyn, followed by a stop at their home bar there, followed by a stop at another bar, so I got to see all kinds of our friends and had a lovely day (I think...it got a little blurry around the third bar)...but unfortunately, I had to go work for the lawyer the next day, without which I could have done. I felt VILE. Whatever happened to those days when I could drink tequila (not that I was drinking tequila...I'm a little odd, but not flying INSANE) and get to a job at 9 the next morning and feel fine? This aging thing is just no fair.
Tomorrow I should go and see Jiggers at the Bistro again, but maybe not. I've got to be there on Friday anyway for my favorite band, and then Saturday is the best street fair in the Village, whch NOBODY misses.
I tell you (pace Satchel Paige), the social ramble ain't restful.
Love, Wendy
So the day after my Boardwalk stint, I went off to a bar in Soho called Boom, which is a place I happen to basically dislike. The reason is that I only ever go there when my pal Tracey is in town, and since she now lives near Rome, I only get to see her about once a year. Therefore, I would like to be able to sit and catch up with her activities...you know, have a conversation. However, Tracey's taste in bars is loud, crowded and expensive, which makes this difficult. But since this is her favorite place in NY, I just bite the bullet. Luckily, this time around we at least (me and Philippe and a friend of his and acquaintance of mine named Angel, and a couple of friends of Angel's, one of whom was a former Miss Atlanta and a darling gal) got a table fairly far away from the live band, so at least I didn't have to scream (much) to be heard. At any rate, a good (if expensive...who charges 8 bucks for a lousy bottle of Budweiser?) time was had by all.
Then on Friday, my pal Jiggers was playing at the Bistrto, so I went to hear him. He had brought his drummer with him, Jon, but unfortunately Jon had been on a tear for a few days and played the first couple of numbers with Jiggers, but then proceeded to fall off his drum set, which enlivened the performance no end. Jiggers convinced him that going home (or at least somewhere else) was probably a good idea.
Quiet weekend, then a stint with the lawyer on Monday which couldn't have been worse timing. I had been mentioning to Sarah that I had a yen for ham...good, home baked ham. I hate that thin sliced flabby deli stuff, and somehow I never seem to get over to the Polish butcher on 2nd Avenue who has the good ham. So Sarah replied by asking 10 people to dinner for Monday.
Yes, well...so Sunday was occupied by grocery shopping followed by making what in our house is called P.S. 41 salad, because it's the macaroni salad recipe I always made every year for Sarah's grammar school potluck, and baking two large chunks of ham. This was because I know from experience that ham goes VERY fast in my house...so since I couldn't get a 16 pound half ham, which is what I was looking for, I got two shank halves just under 10 pounds each. If this sounds like overkill, you have to understand that we have one friend at least (who unfortunately wasn't at dinner) who can go through a 10 pound ham singlehandedly.
So Sarah and Adrian came over Monday while I was at work and put together green salad and deviled eggs and got cheese and various breads and crackers...and I came home for the festivities.
Dear Sarah. She someone managed to collect a group of her absolutely best...vegan and vegetarian friends. This was certainly not intentional...it's just the attrition that occurs whenever you invite a largeish group over for what is essentially a sort of casual potluck type meal in Manhattan. Now if anyone can tell me what the hell to do with the remaining, UNTOUCHED almost ten pound ham...actually, I know what I'm going to do with it, which is slice it up and freeze it in meal size portions. Luckily, as stated above, I LOVE ham. Anyway, we had a lovely time.
Then I did nothing whatsoever for the rest of the week until Friday, when my friends John and Jeanne arrived in town and I met up with them at an art show in a bar in my neighborhood...Jeanne's son is an artist. We had a great time; John's an old acting pal and I love Jeanne dearly, but they live in LA now, so obviously casual nights out together are a little difficult. Actually, I see more of Jeanne than I do of John these days, since her son has been in art school here and she's in a lot more frequently than John is. And Larry joined us...another part of the acting crew that includes me and John. We all met doing a perfectly awful production of Richard III, and like soldiers who fought a war together, we remained friends. I was so glad to see Larry. For madly complicated reasons (short version...we dated for a while and he thought that I wanted a firm commitment, which I didn't, and now he refuses to be friends in the sense that he never calls, or answers emails, or anything because he thinks...God knows what he thinks). I never get to see him unless someone else arranges it (i.e., a Richard reunion or John being in town), and I love him dearly.
And finally, Mother's Day turned up. Sarah and Adrian took me to brunch in Brooklyn, followed by a stop at their home bar there, followed by a stop at another bar, so I got to see all kinds of our friends and had a lovely day (I think...it got a little blurry around the third bar)...but unfortunately, I had to go work for the lawyer the next day, without which I could have done. I felt VILE. Whatever happened to those days when I could drink tequila (not that I was drinking tequila...I'm a little odd, but not flying INSANE) and get to a job at 9 the next morning and feel fine? This aging thing is just no fair.
Tomorrow I should go and see Jiggers at the Bistro again, but maybe not. I've got to be there on Friday anyway for my favorite band, and then Saturday is the best street fair in the Village, whch NOBODY misses.
I tell you (pace Satchel Paige), the social ramble ain't restful.
Love, Wendy
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Being Bizarre on the Boardwalk
What a weird damn day.
You have to understand that everybody who works on Boardwalk Empire loves it to pieces. It is the best set in the world to work on...runs like clockwork, you're treated like a human being, wonderful food, great people. Well, today the whole thing fell apart...to an extent, anyway.
We were shooting in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, a self report location (you don't get a courtesy van/bus from Manhattan). Well, that was fine, because the shoot was directly under the subway stop (the trains are elevated out there) and holding was a short three blocks away. I was due at 5:30 pm (yeah, 5:30 in the evening), but I got there very early because I don't know the area very well...like 4:15 or so. So once they saw there were a few people there, they started rushing us into costume, hair and makeup because evidently the director wanted to rush the first scene through. This was fine, but for some reason it ended me up getting my hair done 3 times. First they wanted me immediately, and decided I was going to wear my original shawl over my head, so they just pulled my hair into a bun. Then they decided they had more time and started with the hot rollers. Then they found out that Lisa wanted me to wear the hat instead of the shawl, so now we had to go with the full dress hair, with all the hot rollers. Before that, my Asian girlfriend whose name I never remember did a lightning fast makeup job on me.
Now they decide we're going to set, so since I was only wearing a heavy sweater, I grabbed my coat. And my purse, since nobody had brought the prop purses yet. Then we went over to set, and I was put in a scene and taken right back out of it and told to go back to holding. This, I think, was when the last hair stuff came up. Then they issued me a coat, which was much appreciated because it was damn chilly outdoors today.
Anyway, me and a few other people hung out in holding and then suddenly they called lunch, and vanned us over to lunch...which was held in the same place where I was in holding last week for that ghastly Iceman shoot. Luckily, this time it was warm and we had gorgeous fried shrimp and roast beef and tiny pastries and things (the food was not in the least affected by the general weirdness of the day, thank God).
Then back to set and down to the slog of filming until we were wrapped at 1:30 in the morning. And vanned back to the city...and the nice bus driver even let a few of us off at Allen and Houston, which meant I was practically home. Yay!
But in the middle of all this, two of the background guys had some sort of altercation, two neighborhood guys tried to bull their way through the set while we were filming and threatened the crew guy who told them they couldn't, and weirdest of all, a large group of the Hasids who live in that area decided to watch us. That was entirely strange. They stood there, probably 15 or 20 of them and the occasional wife, in their black and white clothing and those tall crowned hats and their side curls, and I couldn't figure out why. Frankly, there are few things duller than watching a crowd scene being filmed. Would you stand around for hours watching people walk back and forth? What was worrying me about it is that the Williamsburg Hasids are known for not co-existing very well with the hipsters of the neighborhood, to the point of occasional violence, and I was frankly afraid that they would decide that the film was doing some sort of damage to their holy neighborhood and rush us...and it didn't help that they were on all sides of us. It waas beginning to make me twitch, but that may have been a function of the fact that the third hair style didn't work very well with the damn hat, which kept sliding down to the bridge of my nose, thus rendering me even blinder than I normally am on set (no glasses).
However, the gods eventually smiled on us. We wrapped, as I said, got on the bus for home, and just as we pulled away, it started to rain. As we came off the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan, the rain turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm...BUT IT DIDN'T HAPPEN WHEN WE WERE FILMING!
Meanwhile, I occupied my time before going to Brooklyn by being a very good little girl. I have now paid my rent, cable, telephone, electricity, Actors Equity dues and SAG/AFTRA dues. Aren't I great?
Here's to a better shoot next time...
Love, Wendy
You have to understand that everybody who works on Boardwalk Empire loves it to pieces. It is the best set in the world to work on...runs like clockwork, you're treated like a human being, wonderful food, great people. Well, today the whole thing fell apart...to an extent, anyway.
We were shooting in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, a self report location (you don't get a courtesy van/bus from Manhattan). Well, that was fine, because the shoot was directly under the subway stop (the trains are elevated out there) and holding was a short three blocks away. I was due at 5:30 pm (yeah, 5:30 in the evening), but I got there very early because I don't know the area very well...like 4:15 or so. So once they saw there were a few people there, they started rushing us into costume, hair and makeup because evidently the director wanted to rush the first scene through. This was fine, but for some reason it ended me up getting my hair done 3 times. First they wanted me immediately, and decided I was going to wear my original shawl over my head, so they just pulled my hair into a bun. Then they decided they had more time and started with the hot rollers. Then they found out that Lisa wanted me to wear the hat instead of the shawl, so now we had to go with the full dress hair, with all the hot rollers. Before that, my Asian girlfriend whose name I never remember did a lightning fast makeup job on me.
Now they decide we're going to set, so since I was only wearing a heavy sweater, I grabbed my coat. And my purse, since nobody had brought the prop purses yet. Then we went over to set, and I was put in a scene and taken right back out of it and told to go back to holding. This, I think, was when the last hair stuff came up. Then they issued me a coat, which was much appreciated because it was damn chilly outdoors today.
Anyway, me and a few other people hung out in holding and then suddenly they called lunch, and vanned us over to lunch...which was held in the same place where I was in holding last week for that ghastly Iceman shoot. Luckily, this time it was warm and we had gorgeous fried shrimp and roast beef and tiny pastries and things (the food was not in the least affected by the general weirdness of the day, thank God).
Then back to set and down to the slog of filming until we were wrapped at 1:30 in the morning. And vanned back to the city...and the nice bus driver even let a few of us off at Allen and Houston, which meant I was practically home. Yay!
But in the middle of all this, two of the background guys had some sort of altercation, two neighborhood guys tried to bull their way through the set while we were filming and threatened the crew guy who told them they couldn't, and weirdest of all, a large group of the Hasids who live in that area decided to watch us. That was entirely strange. They stood there, probably 15 or 20 of them and the occasional wife, in their black and white clothing and those tall crowned hats and their side curls, and I couldn't figure out why. Frankly, there are few things duller than watching a crowd scene being filmed. Would you stand around for hours watching people walk back and forth? What was worrying me about it is that the Williamsburg Hasids are known for not co-existing very well with the hipsters of the neighborhood, to the point of occasional violence, and I was frankly afraid that they would decide that the film was doing some sort of damage to their holy neighborhood and rush us...and it didn't help that they were on all sides of us. It waas beginning to make me twitch, but that may have been a function of the fact that the third hair style didn't work very well with the damn hat, which kept sliding down to the bridge of my nose, thus rendering me even blinder than I normally am on set (no glasses).
However, the gods eventually smiled on us. We wrapped, as I said, got on the bus for home, and just as we pulled away, it started to rain. As we came off the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan, the rain turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm...BUT IT DIDN'T HAPPEN WHEN WE WERE FILMING!
Meanwhile, I occupied my time before going to Brooklyn by being a very good little girl. I have now paid my rent, cable, telephone, electricity, Actors Equity dues and SAG/AFTRA dues. Aren't I great?
Here's to a better shoot next time...
Love, Wendy
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Another Sunday With The Vanity Press Crowd
Oh, how I love my Sunday papers. I cannot live without the Daily News funnies, the Post's lurid headlines, and of course, my beloved NYTimes crossword puzzle.
And then there's the Book Review. Today's vanity press ad has some nice things in it, such as Living the Life I Always Wanted, by a gentleman named John F. Willey, who wishes to tell us about being born in 1930, and how "Tough times awaited him and his family as the Great Depression got underway." But, "Despite some bumps, John has lived an amazing life of adventure, loving relationships, and friends."
Oh, yawn. I can just see a little tiny playlet at the Willey house on Thanksgiving:
Ed: Mom, I'm sitting at the children's table this year.
Mom: Ed, you're 43 years old. Whyever would you do that?
Ed: Because if I have to listen to Uncle John talking about his amazing life one more time, I'm going to vomit all over the turkey.
Then there's "Now I Can Call Myself A Biker," by David Royle. "This is the story of David's exploits and adventures to gain experience he so desperately wanted. It has shown that even at his age, in his mid-life crisis, it wasn't too late to learn how to ride a motorbike." A MOTORBIKE? Not even a Harley? You might as well write a book about how at the age of 45, you finally learned to ride that tricycle. I can just see him, that badass David, wearing his leathers...on his Vespa.
However, my favorite is this one. ". . .talks about Sorala Nakib's adventures during her long flying career as a cabin crew (a cabin crew? must have been a REALLY small plane if she was the entire cabin crew...) and her musings as a spiritual guru and peace seeker. It's a biography that will blow your mind!" How we got from being a cabin crew to a spiritual guru I'm not quite sure, although I must say that in these days of air rage, it probably came in handy. However, what this gal really needed was an editor to come up with a better title...this little epic is called "Underneath A Flight Attendant." Really. Good GOD.
Other than that, I was all set to go and see friends for a Saturday night drink last night, but it didn't quite work out. My friend Lee called last week to tell me to come over to our friend Jeremy's bar last night, so I called Caesar to get him to come along. He poohed out on me at the last minute, so I went over to the bar (on the Lower East Side)...only to find no Lee and no Jeremy. So I had a beer (feeling distinctly out of place among the 20-something hipsters) and came home. Never trust half-drunk martial arts crazies. Oh, well.
On the far brighter side, Katie from Grant Wilfley called earlier this week to confirm me for another Boardwalk Empire shoot this coming Wednesday! Yay! I really need it to get the taste of that lousy Iceman shoot out of my mouth. God only knows what they want me to do this time...after my toothless scene, I'm quite prepared for them to tell me I'm going to be an aging madam in the whorehouse set (yes, there is one) wearing period underwear. Who knows? But then, who cares? Like everyone else who works on that show, I love it to pieces and don't much care what I do...
So tomorrow I will go and get my furry face waxed (too few people talk about the billygoat effects of menopause...damn nuisance), and I already took care of my hair, since I don't want them putting that awful dark spray on it again at Boardwalk...took me three applications of shampoo to get that junk out. And I'll go to the library so I'll have something to read on set...and hope for a nice long shooting day.
Love, Wendy
And then there's the Book Review. Today's vanity press ad has some nice things in it, such as Living the Life I Always Wanted, by a gentleman named John F. Willey, who wishes to tell us about being born in 1930, and how "Tough times awaited him and his family as the Great Depression got underway." But, "Despite some bumps, John has lived an amazing life of adventure, loving relationships, and friends."
Oh, yawn. I can just see a little tiny playlet at the Willey house on Thanksgiving:
Ed: Mom, I'm sitting at the children's table this year.
Mom: Ed, you're 43 years old. Whyever would you do that?
Ed: Because if I have to listen to Uncle John talking about his amazing life one more time, I'm going to vomit all over the turkey.
Then there's "Now I Can Call Myself A Biker," by David Royle. "This is the story of David's exploits and adventures to gain experience he so desperately wanted. It has shown that even at his age, in his mid-life crisis, it wasn't too late to learn how to ride a motorbike." A MOTORBIKE? Not even a Harley? You might as well write a book about how at the age of 45, you finally learned to ride that tricycle. I can just see him, that badass David, wearing his leathers...on his Vespa.
However, my favorite is this one. ". . .talks about Sorala Nakib's adventures during her long flying career as a cabin crew (a cabin crew? must have been a REALLY small plane if she was the entire cabin crew...) and her musings as a spiritual guru and peace seeker. It's a biography that will blow your mind!" How we got from being a cabin crew to a spiritual guru I'm not quite sure, although I must say that in these days of air rage, it probably came in handy. However, what this gal really needed was an editor to come up with a better title...this little epic is called "Underneath A Flight Attendant." Really. Good GOD.
Other than that, I was all set to go and see friends for a Saturday night drink last night, but it didn't quite work out. My friend Lee called last week to tell me to come over to our friend Jeremy's bar last night, so I called Caesar to get him to come along. He poohed out on me at the last minute, so I went over to the bar (on the Lower East Side)...only to find no Lee and no Jeremy. So I had a beer (feeling distinctly out of place among the 20-something hipsters) and came home. Never trust half-drunk martial arts crazies. Oh, well.
On the far brighter side, Katie from Grant Wilfley called earlier this week to confirm me for another Boardwalk Empire shoot this coming Wednesday! Yay! I really need it to get the taste of that lousy Iceman shoot out of my mouth. God only knows what they want me to do this time...after my toothless scene, I'm quite prepared for them to tell me I'm going to be an aging madam in the whorehouse set (yes, there is one) wearing period underwear. Who knows? But then, who cares? Like everyone else who works on that show, I love it to pieces and don't much care what I do...
So tomorrow I will go and get my furry face waxed (too few people talk about the billygoat effects of menopause...damn nuisance), and I already took care of my hair, since I don't want them putting that awful dark spray on it again at Boardwalk...took me three applications of shampoo to get that junk out. And I'll go to the library so I'll have something to read on set...and hope for a nice long shooting day.
Love, Wendy
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
The Iceman Freezeth
Well, that was a hideous day. I got a call from Grant Wilfley Monday to go do something called The Iceman yesterday. It's about a serial killer or something, with Michael Shannon, who played the insane FBI guy in Boardwalk...got a few words with him yesterday and he's a pleasant guy.
It was a pretty scary few hours before they told me what time to report, because they were going to be out in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and my entire funds consisted of $12. The reason this was scary was because in order to get to the train out there, I had to go to the stop at Essex and Delancey. Under most circumstances this is no problem at all, because the M9 bus stops around the corner from my house and drops me at the subway. However, if it had been a 6 am call, I would have had to walk from my place to the subway...about ten blocks...in darkness, which didn't appeal to me at ALL (the bus doesn't start running until 6 am). However, all was well...the call was for 8:30, so no problem.
But sheesh. I should have known it wasn't going to be one of the better days when I saw breakfast, which was just barely adequate. A thing of scrambled eggs, some potatoes, and some bacon was it for hot food, and then energy bars and doughnuts and a little fruit for the rest. I realize this sounds picky, but even Law & Order (which is notoriously cheap) does better than that. Usually you get a manned omelet station, and quite often lots of bagels and smoked salmon, and a MUCH better selection of fruit and hot stuff.
We then got into 60s outfits and tromped over to the first set, which was right on the edge of the East River. Did I mention that the temperature was in the 40s and there was a 22 mile an hour wind? We were MISERABLE. Luckily, I met a nurse who was on set (because there was going to be a stunt at some point during the day and the union says you have to have medical personnel on hand for that sort of thing) who was somewhat disturbed by the fact that I was shivering uncontrollably, and she had her car right there...her lovely, HEATED car. God bless Deborah. Without her I would have been standing in that damn wind without a coat for two hours.
We then went back to holding, which was also unheated. We sat around there for a couple of hours or so, and they announced lunch. WALKAWAY LUNCH. All background people hate, hate, hate this. (It means you leave the set and go find a deli or restaurant and pay for your own food.) It's particularly annoying when you're in period costume, because of ill-fitting shoes and things...aside from the fact that your feet hurt, you look peculiar as hell. This was a real problem for me, because having bought my papers and a Diet Coke, I was now down to 7 dollars. I found a deli with a 5 dollar ham and cheese and brought that back to holding (still icy cold).
On to the next set! This was almost 8 friggin' blocks away...no vans, no nothing. And I was wearing 3 inch heels. And of course, no warming truck or anything like that. So we froze out there for another couple of hours.
They finally called Background to Holding, and at this point Letty (a nice gal about ten years my senior who was another background person) and I stood up on our hind legs and announced that they were going to get us some transport back to holding, because we weren't walking it. Eventually they did, but we had to wait another half hour in the cold for it.
Back to holding, they wrapped us, and then said goodnight. No vans, no cars, no nothing. By this time it was dark, and the subway was six blocks away. Luckily me and Letty and another couple of gals found a nice background guy with a car and got him to drive us...but for God's sake. If they call me back for this one, the answer is going to be a resounding NO. I finally got home via subway and bus and got into bed with every single quilt and blanket in the house on top of me. BRRRR.
Meanwhile, my check from The Bitter Pill was in the mailbox when I got home, and my social security was in the bank this morning, so I occupied a good chunk of the day buying three thousand tons of groceries and various other necessities of life. What a relief after this last couple of weeks. Naturally, I was so excited about going to the grocery store that I forgot my shopping list, but what the hell. I can shop without one...after all, I know what I eat. So now I've got chicken and pork chops and some sirloin steak and lettuce and baby carrots to snack on and the kind of cat food the cats prefer (so they'll quit gnawing on me) and toilet paper and hair dye (I really, REALLY need it) and deodorant and cigarettes without having to charge them at the deli (God bless my deli) and I am going to go to bed early. Then I'll get up, read the papers, and do the damned laundry, since I also bought laundry soap. The laundry hamper has taken on a life of its own, and I'm completely out of socks and bras and the only pair of underpants I have is a pair Sarah left here and they're one size too big for me (she's got a bottom, while I'm flat as a pancake).
Meanwhile I'm tired and still slightly chilled. And of course, without my list, I forgot to buy Tylenol and now I have a headache. I'm going to live with it because I just can't face going out again...I'm going to sleep anyhow.
To add insult to injury, after all that running around on subways and buses yesterday, when I went out for groceries and the drugstore, Law & Order had set up shop and was filming a block and a half from my house. Why the hell can't they ever call me for these shoots? Oh, no, it's always Brighton Beach or Harlem. Growl.
Love, Wendy
It was a pretty scary few hours before they told me what time to report, because they were going to be out in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and my entire funds consisted of $12. The reason this was scary was because in order to get to the train out there, I had to go to the stop at Essex and Delancey. Under most circumstances this is no problem at all, because the M9 bus stops around the corner from my house and drops me at the subway. However, if it had been a 6 am call, I would have had to walk from my place to the subway...about ten blocks...in darkness, which didn't appeal to me at ALL (the bus doesn't start running until 6 am). However, all was well...the call was for 8:30, so no problem.
But sheesh. I should have known it wasn't going to be one of the better days when I saw breakfast, which was just barely adequate. A thing of scrambled eggs, some potatoes, and some bacon was it for hot food, and then energy bars and doughnuts and a little fruit for the rest. I realize this sounds picky, but even Law & Order (which is notoriously cheap) does better than that. Usually you get a manned omelet station, and quite often lots of bagels and smoked salmon, and a MUCH better selection of fruit and hot stuff.
We then got into 60s outfits and tromped over to the first set, which was right on the edge of the East River. Did I mention that the temperature was in the 40s and there was a 22 mile an hour wind? We were MISERABLE. Luckily, I met a nurse who was on set (because there was going to be a stunt at some point during the day and the union says you have to have medical personnel on hand for that sort of thing) who was somewhat disturbed by the fact that I was shivering uncontrollably, and she had her car right there...her lovely, HEATED car. God bless Deborah. Without her I would have been standing in that damn wind without a coat for two hours.
We then went back to holding, which was also unheated. We sat around there for a couple of hours or so, and they announced lunch. WALKAWAY LUNCH. All background people hate, hate, hate this. (It means you leave the set and go find a deli or restaurant and pay for your own food.) It's particularly annoying when you're in period costume, because of ill-fitting shoes and things...aside from the fact that your feet hurt, you look peculiar as hell. This was a real problem for me, because having bought my papers and a Diet Coke, I was now down to 7 dollars. I found a deli with a 5 dollar ham and cheese and brought that back to holding (still icy cold).
On to the next set! This was almost 8 friggin' blocks away...no vans, no nothing. And I was wearing 3 inch heels. And of course, no warming truck or anything like that. So we froze out there for another couple of hours.
They finally called Background to Holding, and at this point Letty (a nice gal about ten years my senior who was another background person) and I stood up on our hind legs and announced that they were going to get us some transport back to holding, because we weren't walking it. Eventually they did, but we had to wait another half hour in the cold for it.
Back to holding, they wrapped us, and then said goodnight. No vans, no cars, no nothing. By this time it was dark, and the subway was six blocks away. Luckily me and Letty and another couple of gals found a nice background guy with a car and got him to drive us...but for God's sake. If they call me back for this one, the answer is going to be a resounding NO. I finally got home via subway and bus and got into bed with every single quilt and blanket in the house on top of me. BRRRR.
Meanwhile, my check from The Bitter Pill was in the mailbox when I got home, and my social security was in the bank this morning, so I occupied a good chunk of the day buying three thousand tons of groceries and various other necessities of life. What a relief after this last couple of weeks. Naturally, I was so excited about going to the grocery store that I forgot my shopping list, but what the hell. I can shop without one...after all, I know what I eat. So now I've got chicken and pork chops and some sirloin steak and lettuce and baby carrots to snack on and the kind of cat food the cats prefer (so they'll quit gnawing on me) and toilet paper and hair dye (I really, REALLY need it) and deodorant and cigarettes without having to charge them at the deli (God bless my deli) and I am going to go to bed early. Then I'll get up, read the papers, and do the damned laundry, since I also bought laundry soap. The laundry hamper has taken on a life of its own, and I'm completely out of socks and bras and the only pair of underpants I have is a pair Sarah left here and they're one size too big for me (she's got a bottom, while I'm flat as a pancake).
Meanwhile I'm tired and still slightly chilled. And of course, without my list, I forgot to buy Tylenol and now I have a headache. I'm going to live with it because I just can't face going out again...I'm going to sleep anyhow.
To add insult to injury, after all that running around on subways and buses yesterday, when I went out for groceries and the drugstore, Law & Order had set up shop and was filming a block and a half from my house. Why the hell can't they ever call me for these shoots? Oh, no, it's always Brighton Beach or Harlem. Growl.
Love, Wendy
Friday, April 20, 2012
Long (and Lucrative) Day
Oh, boy, am I tired.
We had a mercifully late call out to Boardwalk Empire yesterday...mercifully, because they decided we should self-report; i.e., get there on our own instead of providing a van. In my case, for an 8:45 am report time, this meant leaving the house at 6:30 and taking the M14 bus to 1st Avenue and 14th Street followed by the L train to Lorimer, followed by the G train to Green Point Avenue. God bless them, they did provide a van at the subway stop, because we were in holding/wardrobe/makeup/hair at our basic set, the actual Boardwalk set, which isn't anywhere you can get to easily. I was actually early at the subway station, even though I originally got on the wrong G train - going in the wrong direction - and had to backtrack a few stations. Luckily I noticed this (always look up your subway stations) before it got too crazy. This sort of thing (not to mention the occasional and often bizarre problems that occur on NYC public transportation - you know, body on the track, police activity, fleeing suspect, dog panhandling...you never know) is why I tend to leave early.
Anyway, into holding, wardrobe (my God, they really do hate me with that damned costume...I couldn't look worse...oh, wait, yes, I could - see below), hair, which they proceeded to destroy by deciding to spray my gray streaks (well, I've been so flying broke I couldn't afford to dye it before the shoot, and anyway I figured that if I was a toothless old broad in a dive bar, the gray streaks were appropriate) with some kind of color spray to hide them. The resllt of this is that my hair was not only teased and hairsprayed, but covered in this gook that made the whole thing feel like cement. And Lisa, the head of costumes, was annoyed because she agreed with me that the gray would have been totally appropriate. So nice to be vindicated.
Then breakfast and a van to the set, which was a dive bar a few blocks away. I don't think it was purpose-built for the show, because if they were going to do that, they simply would have built it at Steiner Studios, where most of the interiors are shot. But it was appropriately disheveled and smoky(causing me a good bit of nostalgia for the old days when you didn't have to get up and go outside to have a damn cigarette in a bar).
They seated me right in front of the camera, out came the teeth, and there I will be, ladies and gentlemen, in Episode 4, laughing uproariously with my head thrown back, my mouth wide open...and no teeth. I can't WAIT to see this one.
It was an odd day in one respect. While I know a lot of the regular crew on the set (well, after three years I damn well should, and besides that, you meet them on other sets, too), and they always greet me when I turn up, yesterday I was flavor of the month. Everybody knew my name, everybody was very busy trying to accommodate me in one way or another...it was fascinating. Of course, this was because you see, it turned out that I was the only person on the set minus teeth. Therefore I was just as visible as hell (gumming my way through the day and doing that great big horselaugh) and I think that people were completely fascinated that I would do the thing at all. And boy, were they determined that I'd be visible...Ingrid the makeup gal came by about every five minutes to smear more red lipstick on me to make SURE people could see my mouth. Um...thanks, I think. Of course, on any period set, you get used to people wandering around and suddenly darting at you with powder or lipstick or coming out of nowhere to readjust your hat or stick another bobby pin in your hair...you get so that you really barely notice the fact that people are picking at the hair on your neck or twitching at your hat or whatever.
And it went on and on and on. Lately I've been doing quite short shoots on Boardwalk...like 6 hours or something...but this was an old-fashioned in it for the duration number...in at 8:45 am on the clock, signed out at 11:30 pm. Plus three meal penalties (we ate lunch at 5:30 pm), smoke pay, some night differential, for a glorious total of 13.8 hours. This means that my paycheck will be a fairly hefty one...over 300 bucks.
And boy, can I use the money. I am so broke. The problem, of course, is that you have to wait for your checks from movie companies. The prison shoot for Bitter Pill hasn't paid me yet, but that check should, please God, be arriving within the next couple of days. I was hoping for it today, but no such luck. Tomorrow, please God. I've got just enough money (if I ration cigarettes) to get through tomorrow and get the Sunday papers (on Sunday...duh), but Monday will be interesting to say the least. This sort of thing is terribly annoying because I've got all this money in the pipeline...the Bitter Pill check and my tax refunds (and Boardwalk, of course, but that'll be a week and a half). Oh, well. I always manage to survive. If worst comes to worst, since I sensibly bought a new Metrocard yesterday, I'll go see Sarah on Sunday and beg a pack of cigarettes from her.
It was a pleasure...if an exhausting one...to be out on a good old fashioned long Boardwalk day. It's by far my favorite show to work, and the usual players were there, so there was lots of good talk with us old hands showing off for the newbies and goofing around and the odd conversations you tend to have in holding. There was one conversation about men's underwear, for some reason or other that I forget, for one yesterday.
And when I was changing to finally come home (yes, of course we had a van back...it was after 9 pm, and them's the rules), one of the costume gals told me that she had just loved my laughing turn..."There was such pure joy on your face!" I may marry that child.
Now I'm going to submit for a Law & Order that just turned up in my inbox and seems to be filming right here in the neighborhood. Wish me luck!
Love, Wendy (otherwise known as Tessie the Toothless)
We had a mercifully late call out to Boardwalk Empire yesterday...mercifully, because they decided we should self-report; i.e., get there on our own instead of providing a van. In my case, for an 8:45 am report time, this meant leaving the house at 6:30 and taking the M14 bus to 1st Avenue and 14th Street followed by the L train to Lorimer, followed by the G train to Green Point Avenue. God bless them, they did provide a van at the subway stop, because we were in holding/wardrobe/makeup/hair at our basic set, the actual Boardwalk set, which isn't anywhere you can get to easily. I was actually early at the subway station, even though I originally got on the wrong G train - going in the wrong direction - and had to backtrack a few stations. Luckily I noticed this (always look up your subway stations) before it got too crazy. This sort of thing (not to mention the occasional and often bizarre problems that occur on NYC public transportation - you know, body on the track, police activity, fleeing suspect, dog panhandling...you never know) is why I tend to leave early.
Anyway, into holding, wardrobe (my God, they really do hate me with that damned costume...I couldn't look worse...oh, wait, yes, I could - see below), hair, which they proceeded to destroy by deciding to spray my gray streaks (well, I've been so flying broke I couldn't afford to dye it before the shoot, and anyway I figured that if I was a toothless old broad in a dive bar, the gray streaks were appropriate) with some kind of color spray to hide them. The resllt of this is that my hair was not only teased and hairsprayed, but covered in this gook that made the whole thing feel like cement. And Lisa, the head of costumes, was annoyed because she agreed with me that the gray would have been totally appropriate. So nice to be vindicated.
Then breakfast and a van to the set, which was a dive bar a few blocks away. I don't think it was purpose-built for the show, because if they were going to do that, they simply would have built it at Steiner Studios, where most of the interiors are shot. But it was appropriately disheveled and smoky(causing me a good bit of nostalgia for the old days when you didn't have to get up and go outside to have a damn cigarette in a bar).
They seated me right in front of the camera, out came the teeth, and there I will be, ladies and gentlemen, in Episode 4, laughing uproariously with my head thrown back, my mouth wide open...and no teeth. I can't WAIT to see this one.
It was an odd day in one respect. While I know a lot of the regular crew on the set (well, after three years I damn well should, and besides that, you meet them on other sets, too), and they always greet me when I turn up, yesterday I was flavor of the month. Everybody knew my name, everybody was very busy trying to accommodate me in one way or another...it was fascinating. Of course, this was because you see, it turned out that I was the only person on the set minus teeth. Therefore I was just as visible as hell (gumming my way through the day and doing that great big horselaugh) and I think that people were completely fascinated that I would do the thing at all. And boy, were they determined that I'd be visible...Ingrid the makeup gal came by about every five minutes to smear more red lipstick on me to make SURE people could see my mouth. Um...thanks, I think. Of course, on any period set, you get used to people wandering around and suddenly darting at you with powder or lipstick or coming out of nowhere to readjust your hat or stick another bobby pin in your hair...you get so that you really barely notice the fact that people are picking at the hair on your neck or twitching at your hat or whatever.
And it went on and on and on. Lately I've been doing quite short shoots on Boardwalk...like 6 hours or something...but this was an old-fashioned in it for the duration number...in at 8:45 am on the clock, signed out at 11:30 pm. Plus three meal penalties (we ate lunch at 5:30 pm), smoke pay, some night differential, for a glorious total of 13.8 hours. This means that my paycheck will be a fairly hefty one...over 300 bucks.
And boy, can I use the money. I am so broke. The problem, of course, is that you have to wait for your checks from movie companies. The prison shoot for Bitter Pill hasn't paid me yet, but that check should, please God, be arriving within the next couple of days. I was hoping for it today, but no such luck. Tomorrow, please God. I've got just enough money (if I ration cigarettes) to get through tomorrow and get the Sunday papers (on Sunday...duh), but Monday will be interesting to say the least. This sort of thing is terribly annoying because I've got all this money in the pipeline...the Bitter Pill check and my tax refunds (and Boardwalk, of course, but that'll be a week and a half). Oh, well. I always manage to survive. If worst comes to worst, since I sensibly bought a new Metrocard yesterday, I'll go see Sarah on Sunday and beg a pack of cigarettes from her.
It was a pleasure...if an exhausting one...to be out on a good old fashioned long Boardwalk day. It's by far my favorite show to work, and the usual players were there, so there was lots of good talk with us old hands showing off for the newbies and goofing around and the odd conversations you tend to have in holding. There was one conversation about men's underwear, for some reason or other that I forget, for one yesterday.
And when I was changing to finally come home (yes, of course we had a van back...it was after 9 pm, and them's the rules), one of the costume gals told me that she had just loved my laughing turn..."There was such pure joy on your face!" I may marry that child.
Now I'm going to submit for a Law & Order that just turned up in my inbox and seems to be filming right here in the neighborhood. Wish me luck!
Love, Wendy (otherwise known as Tessie the Toothless)
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