I am getting increasingly annoyed at the newspaper stories about people complaining about the high noise level around their apartments.
Admittedly, I am a person who happens to love noise. I am perfectly capable of tuning it out, and I can sleep through a nuclear war, so it's not on my list of things to complain about. When I was apartment hunting, I kept having to explain this over and over to real estate people, who took one look at me and said, "You'll want a nice, quiet place." No. No, I won't. A nice quiet place would make me absolutely crazy. I live alone, and I spend a lot of time alone, basically out of choice...I'm quite fond of my own company. But I like to know that life is going on around me. Right now I have a yappy dog who lives on my floor (I just heard him in the hall making a few remarks), and a gent whom I think is next door to me who plays the drums at midnight. This is just fine with me. As are the large family parties that occasionally take place down the hall. I think this is great...it makes me feel at home.
I do, however, know that there are a lot of people who just hate this sort of thing, and that's their prerogative. Who said we should all be alike? The only thing I ask them to do is THINK ABOUT IT BEFORE YOU MOVE, for God's sake.
There was a story in the paper today or yesterday about a building where the residents are up in arms about a rooftop party that goes on next door to them. These people moved into an apartment on Eighth Street in Greenwich Village, which is a large street that runs straight across town and contains a whole lot of restaurants and bars and shops and things. And on Saturday night traffic tends to jam up on it and horns honk. Did it not occur to these people that if they're living on a street like this they are not living in a gated suburban community? Same with people who move in above a bar. Did it somehow escape their attention that there was a bar right next door to the door they were walking into to see that apartment? Did they think somehow that the bar would obligingly lower its noise level because they were now in residence?
Look, if you want to live right in the middle of things, you're going to have noise. If you don't like noise, find another street to live on. There are lots of nice quiet streets in New York, honest.
Now, if you've been living in a nice quiet apartment for a while and they decide to open a bar right under you, that's a different problem. Now you do have a basis for complaint. But NOT if they were there first. Sheesh.
Love, Wendy (who has her radio going and is happily listening to that nice dog, too)
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Reprising My Famous Role as The Wicked Witch of the West by Melting
By which you may gather that, yes, I did play the Wicked Witch many years back, and yes, the temperature being 95 or so, I was back on the Boardwalk for a winter shoot on Friday.
And boy, was I ready for the Boardwalk. I spent damn near the whole week with the lawyer, and I can't even begin to tell you how much that man is getting on my nerves. I mean, a day or two, or even three, every now and then is fine, but he seems to be consuming WAY too much of my time at the moment. However, I must remind myself that it's A. only six hours a day (actually seven hours, but there's lunch) and B. I do get paid, although not nearly enough. Money is a GOOD THING. Just ask Martha Stewart.
But then on Friday I got to go to the Boardwalk for an odd little call. We weren't called for the van until 12:15 pm, so I figured we'd go into the night. This was slightly annoying because my favorite band was playing at the Bistro, and I was beginning to get anxious text messages from the bar personnel as to whether I'd make it, which I thought was cute. Everybody knows how much I love my band. I even got one from Trish the bartender announcing that my seat at the bar was reserved, and sure enough, when I got there, there was a seat for me...with a Reserved card on the bar. I loved it.
However, I had resigned myself to missing the band for once because I knew we were doing two scenes, and by dinner time (around 7 pm) we were just breaking to change into spring instead of winter clothes (i.e., take off the heavy coat, put on the sweater, change to a straw hat from a felt hat) and eat...when all of a sudden me and Joe (a cohort of mine) were told that we were wrapped. The reason was that both Joe and I are heavily featured in this episode...it's the one where I'm toothless...and the next shot would have brought us way too close to the action of the scene where we would have been recognizable. Which would have been okay, except that we were were supposed to be in Atlantic City, and we'd both just been featured in Chicago...in the same time frame. This was fine, except that we would have had to sit around in holding until everybody else was wrapped at 10:30 in order to get back to the city (the set is in a transportation desert in terms of subways and buses). However, turns out that Joe had driven to the set that day and even though he lives in New Jersey, he was driving into the city for some reason. This was fine with me. It's not that I wouldn't have welcomed the extra money, but sitting around in holding reading a book for three hours or so isn't my idea of fun, and it wouldn't have resulted in much more than another say, 45 bucks on the paycheck...I can do without 45 bucks. So I got to the bar in time to claim my Reserved seat and see my band, and everything in the garden was lovely...although I really, REALLY hope we've stopped shooting winter. Two days of rivers of sweat is MORE than enough.
I have done almost nothing all day except read the papers, but I did actually manage to get some WD-40 on my sticky windows. It seems to be working, but of course in the process of getting them open so I could use the stuff, I managed to pull something in my back. Let's just hope that it really does work, because while I love my air conditioning, I don't want it on all the time...every now and then I like a little fresh New York City air. (You have to realize what a total city kid I am...I go out to the country and the air makes me cough all the time. I think it's the lack of exhaust fumes.)
Now I am sitting here cursing New York City's capricious weather. Damn it, they PROMISED me thunderstorms. They are STILL promising me thunderstorms, Absolutely nothing is happening and there's not a cloud in the sky. It's just NOT FAIR. Growl.
Love, Wendy
And boy, was I ready for the Boardwalk. I spent damn near the whole week with the lawyer, and I can't even begin to tell you how much that man is getting on my nerves. I mean, a day or two, or even three, every now and then is fine, but he seems to be consuming WAY too much of my time at the moment. However, I must remind myself that it's A. only six hours a day (actually seven hours, but there's lunch) and B. I do get paid, although not nearly enough. Money is a GOOD THING. Just ask Martha Stewart.
But then on Friday I got to go to the Boardwalk for an odd little call. We weren't called for the van until 12:15 pm, so I figured we'd go into the night. This was slightly annoying because my favorite band was playing at the Bistro, and I was beginning to get anxious text messages from the bar personnel as to whether I'd make it, which I thought was cute. Everybody knows how much I love my band. I even got one from Trish the bartender announcing that my seat at the bar was reserved, and sure enough, when I got there, there was a seat for me...with a Reserved card on the bar. I loved it.
However, I had resigned myself to missing the band for once because I knew we were doing two scenes, and by dinner time (around 7 pm) we were just breaking to change into spring instead of winter clothes (i.e., take off the heavy coat, put on the sweater, change to a straw hat from a felt hat) and eat...when all of a sudden me and Joe (a cohort of mine) were told that we were wrapped. The reason was that both Joe and I are heavily featured in this episode...it's the one where I'm toothless...and the next shot would have brought us way too close to the action of the scene where we would have been recognizable. Which would have been okay, except that we were were supposed to be in Atlantic City, and we'd both just been featured in Chicago...in the same time frame. This was fine, except that we would have had to sit around in holding until everybody else was wrapped at 10:30 in order to get back to the city (the set is in a transportation desert in terms of subways and buses). However, turns out that Joe had driven to the set that day and even though he lives in New Jersey, he was driving into the city for some reason. This was fine with me. It's not that I wouldn't have welcomed the extra money, but sitting around in holding reading a book for three hours or so isn't my idea of fun, and it wouldn't have resulted in much more than another say, 45 bucks on the paycheck...I can do without 45 bucks. So I got to the bar in time to claim my Reserved seat and see my band, and everything in the garden was lovely...although I really, REALLY hope we've stopped shooting winter. Two days of rivers of sweat is MORE than enough.
I have done almost nothing all day except read the papers, but I did actually manage to get some WD-40 on my sticky windows. It seems to be working, but of course in the process of getting them open so I could use the stuff, I managed to pull something in my back. Let's just hope that it really does work, because while I love my air conditioning, I don't want it on all the time...every now and then I like a little fresh New York City air. (You have to realize what a total city kid I am...I go out to the country and the air makes me cough all the time. I think it's the lack of exhaust fumes.)
Now I am sitting here cursing New York City's capricious weather. Damn it, they PROMISED me thunderstorms. They are STILL promising me thunderstorms, Absolutely nothing is happening and there's not a cloud in the sky. It's just NOT FAIR. Growl.
Love, Wendy
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
A Wedding!
No, no, NOT mine. I assure you, twice was more than enough. No, these were the nuptials of one of the gals who works at the Bistro, and she had the reception at the Bistro and was kind enough to invite all the regulars. Of course, this was sort of making a virtue out of necessity, since the owner of the Bistro is deeply opposed to closing the bar for private parties...if you want to have a gathering there, you just have various people wandering in for a drink. However, they're kept away from the hors d'oeuvres and whatever free drink may be around, so it works out.
The bride threw together the wedding (they ran down to City Hall, I'm pretty sure) in about two weeks (no, I don't know why) and I must say, she did a hell of a job in so little time. Decorated tables, wedding favors, adorable little bridesmaids, and her sister, whom I think must have been the maid of honor, in an astonishing outfit involving a silver sequined bra top and silver brocade skin tight more or less skirt...mostly less. The bride herself wore something I wouldn't go near if you paid me, involving rhinestone beading, a large pouffy skirt with more rhinestones all over it, and a laced back...but in fact, it suited her and she looked lovely. And the groom is a handsome guy who was wearing a white linen suit.
Anyway, a good time was had by all, including, one presumes, the old guy with the cane who sat out front at one of the tables all night eating, drinking, and clutching his cane (NOT a member of the wedding group), until he started to pass out and some kind Samaritan enlivened the wedding no end by calling for an ambulance. So we have the wedding going on inside and the fire engine and the ambulance outside...welcome to a Greenwich Village wedding! I hasten to add that the old gent was moving more or less on his own when they strapped him in a wheelchair for the ride to the hospital, so presumably he was fine when he sobered up a bit.
Meanwhile I'm still stuck with the damn law firm...I was there yesterday and I'll be there tomorrow and Friday, unless I get lucky and someone wants me for some REAL work.
I was going to clean house today, which worked out as well as most of my plans to clean house do...i.e., I took a nap until the feeling passed. However, the kids (Sarah and boyfriend Adrian) have promised me that they're coming over to move furniture next week, so maybe I can at least get that done. Of course, I had to promise to come and actually sing at Sarah's Sunday night karaoke gig...you know she needs help getting an audience if she's actually ASKING me to sing. I had high hopes of fucking up her brain entirely by singing the worst rap song I could dig up on the internet, but they're all so uniformly hideous that I figured I couldn't possibly. It's really hard to sing when you're gagging. And I know this because I was once doing musical summer stock when the entire cast came down with stomach flu...actually dancing was a real trip, too. So maybe I'll just do Janis Joplin.
I have finally unpacked my brand new sewing machine. It is GORGEOUS, but I'm slightly afraid of it. I learned to sew on the one we had at home, which was of roughly 1920s vintage, so tomorrow I'm going to get some cheap fabric and after the law firm, I'll sit down with the manual and figure this new baby out. Then I shall make myself something...probably a skirt, just to get my hand back in. I used to be absolutely fearless...you know, lined jackets, pleats, Shakespearean costumes, but it's been a while. Best to start small. Also, I haven't used a pattern in a while...my sewing has been confined to cushion covers, Roman togas (production of Antigone), and capes (Halloween costume for Sarah), which anybody who can draw a circle can do. Oh, cool! In order to have room to lay out a pattern and actually sew things, I'm going to HAVE to clean house! Yay!
Love, Wendy
The bride threw together the wedding (they ran down to City Hall, I'm pretty sure) in about two weeks (no, I don't know why) and I must say, she did a hell of a job in so little time. Decorated tables, wedding favors, adorable little bridesmaids, and her sister, whom I think must have been the maid of honor, in an astonishing outfit involving a silver sequined bra top and silver brocade skin tight more or less skirt...mostly less. The bride herself wore something I wouldn't go near if you paid me, involving rhinestone beading, a large pouffy skirt with more rhinestones all over it, and a laced back...but in fact, it suited her and she looked lovely. And the groom is a handsome guy who was wearing a white linen suit.
Anyway, a good time was had by all, including, one presumes, the old guy with the cane who sat out front at one of the tables all night eating, drinking, and clutching his cane (NOT a member of the wedding group), until he started to pass out and some kind Samaritan enlivened the wedding no end by calling for an ambulance. So we have the wedding going on inside and the fire engine and the ambulance outside...welcome to a Greenwich Village wedding! I hasten to add that the old gent was moving more or less on his own when they strapped him in a wheelchair for the ride to the hospital, so presumably he was fine when he sobered up a bit.
Meanwhile I'm still stuck with the damn law firm...I was there yesterday and I'll be there tomorrow and Friday, unless I get lucky and someone wants me for some REAL work.
I was going to clean house today, which worked out as well as most of my plans to clean house do...i.e., I took a nap until the feeling passed. However, the kids (Sarah and boyfriend Adrian) have promised me that they're coming over to move furniture next week, so maybe I can at least get that done. Of course, I had to promise to come and actually sing at Sarah's Sunday night karaoke gig...you know she needs help getting an audience if she's actually ASKING me to sing. I had high hopes of fucking up her brain entirely by singing the worst rap song I could dig up on the internet, but they're all so uniformly hideous that I figured I couldn't possibly. It's really hard to sing when you're gagging. And I know this because I was once doing musical summer stock when the entire cast came down with stomach flu...actually dancing was a real trip, too. So maybe I'll just do Janis Joplin.
I have finally unpacked my brand new sewing machine. It is GORGEOUS, but I'm slightly afraid of it. I learned to sew on the one we had at home, which was of roughly 1920s vintage, so tomorrow I'm going to get some cheap fabric and after the law firm, I'll sit down with the manual and figure this new baby out. Then I shall make myself something...probably a skirt, just to get my hand back in. I used to be absolutely fearless...you know, lined jackets, pleats, Shakespearean costumes, but it's been a while. Best to start small. Also, I haven't used a pattern in a while...my sewing has been confined to cushion covers, Roman togas (production of Antigone), and capes (Halloween costume for Sarah), which anybody who can draw a circle can do. Oh, cool! In order to have room to lay out a pattern and actually sew things, I'm going to HAVE to clean house! Yay!
Love, Wendy
Sunday, July 1, 2012
YAWN...
I have decided that there is far too much legal work in this world...or at least, that I'M doing far too much of it.
I have just spent four straight days at that damn legal office, because no film or TV show had the good taste to cast me. It damn near killed me.
There is a perfectly good reason why I no longer work 9 to 5, which is; I HATE IT. I hate the sameness of it, I hate the office politics of it (although given the size of this particular law office, we don't actually have any), and I absolutely hate going to bed every night knowing that I have to go to the same damn place tomorrow. Now kindly remember that these are not the ravings of a Gen-Xer with a whole different agenda for life. These are the ravings of someone who out of necessity lived the corporate life for WAY too long.
I love acting, even if it is background work, which, if you are realistic about it, is basically, as I've said before, being human furniture. Thing is, though, if you're an actor, you can act it. Even if your day is spent, as so many of mine are, walking back and forth, you can imagine WHY you might be walking back and forth. You can make a nice little acting exercise out of it to keep your skills working. For instance, when we're working out on the actual Boardwalk set, remember that I'm cast as lower class. So put yourself there. Your life, in the 1920s, is drudgery. You probably have three or four children, a husband who makes very little money, a house in which you can't afford even the rudimentary labor-saving devices that were available then. You probably huddle over a coal stove on winter nights, and that's probably what you cook on, too. When your children get sick, you certainly can't afford a doctor, so you try to cure them with the family remedies handed down from your grandmother...castor oil, mustard plasters, hot and cold compresses. You don't have pretty clothes. Maybe you have one dress kept for "best"...and it has to last a LONG time. You usually only wear it to church on Sunday. Food is a constant struggle...both being able to afford it and then cooking it on that coal stove.
Now imagine that you get a day when you can go to THE BOARDWALK! Without the kids! Look at those lights! Oh, look at all those rich women in their beautiful clothes, and the men in their elegant suits! And the shops! You can't possibly ever think you could buy anything in those windows, but you can look and dream, and it's free! And maybe...if you've been VERY careful with the housekeeping money...you can buy a piece of saltwater taffy. Bliss...utter and complete bliss.
And this is what you do with a long, long day tromping up and down with your feet hurting in those goddamn vintage shoes. And this is how you act.
Love, Wendy
I have just spent four straight days at that damn legal office, because no film or TV show had the good taste to cast me. It damn near killed me.
There is a perfectly good reason why I no longer work 9 to 5, which is; I HATE IT. I hate the sameness of it, I hate the office politics of it (although given the size of this particular law office, we don't actually have any), and I absolutely hate going to bed every night knowing that I have to go to the same damn place tomorrow. Now kindly remember that these are not the ravings of a Gen-Xer with a whole different agenda for life. These are the ravings of someone who out of necessity lived the corporate life for WAY too long.
I love acting, even if it is background work, which, if you are realistic about it, is basically, as I've said before, being human furniture. Thing is, though, if you're an actor, you can act it. Even if your day is spent, as so many of mine are, walking back and forth, you can imagine WHY you might be walking back and forth. You can make a nice little acting exercise out of it to keep your skills working. For instance, when we're working out on the actual Boardwalk set, remember that I'm cast as lower class. So put yourself there. Your life, in the 1920s, is drudgery. You probably have three or four children, a husband who makes very little money, a house in which you can't afford even the rudimentary labor-saving devices that were available then. You probably huddle over a coal stove on winter nights, and that's probably what you cook on, too. When your children get sick, you certainly can't afford a doctor, so you try to cure them with the family remedies handed down from your grandmother...castor oil, mustard plasters, hot and cold compresses. You don't have pretty clothes. Maybe you have one dress kept for "best"...and it has to last a LONG time. You usually only wear it to church on Sunday. Food is a constant struggle...both being able to afford it and then cooking it on that coal stove.
Now imagine that you get a day when you can go to THE BOARDWALK! Without the kids! Look at those lights! Oh, look at all those rich women in their beautiful clothes, and the men in their elegant suits! And the shops! You can't possibly ever think you could buy anything in those windows, but you can look and dream, and it's free! And maybe...if you've been VERY careful with the housekeeping money...you can buy a piece of saltwater taffy. Bliss...utter and complete bliss.
And this is what you do with a long, long day tromping up and down with your feet hurting in those goddamn vintage shoes. And this is how you act.
Love, Wendy
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Boardwalk - With Oceans of Sweat
Well, let's see. The week after my last post, I didn't post for the eminently sensible reason that I did nothing that would interest anybody except to get hoist with my own petard.
As loyal readers may know...and one sincerely hopes that you are all deeply, truly loyal...you are, AREN'T you?...I have a baby trust fund that can only be accessed by going through my trustee, and then only if I describe in detail exactly what it is I want and exactly what it costs and exactly why I need it. This is precisely as friggin' annoying as you think it is.
So, during that blank and dull week in there, I decided that I needed a thousand bucks. I actually did need stuff, in fact, but it was stuff that I'd already lied about needing and spent the money on something else, so I had to invent something new to need money for, and I hit upon the idea of needing new glasses (since I wear specially made trifocals which cost $500 a pair, this is reasonable), and to pay off the last of a HUGE Con Ed bill (also true...it was originally $3000 and change, and I've paid it off up to the last $500, but it's still a drain to pay an extra $165 a month).
Anyway, I got the money, and bought myself a lovely new sewing machine and various bits and pieces for it, and then I did this, that and the other thing, and I was down to about 350 bucks...at which point, karma turned around and bit me in the ass. I woke up one morning and picked up my glasses and they promptly fell apart.
Well, since I can't see shit without them, this was a bit of a problem. (See above, $300 in the bank and $500 for new glasses.) So off I went and had to get TWO new pairs of glasses...one which I'm wearing now, for distance only (because otherwise I have no idea where I am because I can't read street signs without glasses) and an actual pair of trifocals, which I am paying off and which won't be ready for another week. I am here to tell you, that karma is a real bitch.
After that, it became Sunday somehow (last Sunday), and I bounced off to see Sarah doing her new karaoke hostess gig, which is walking distance from me.
I am truly amazed at what comes over people when karaoke is on the menu. I had never been to it, so I was completely unprepared for the fact that so many people are under the impression that they can sing. And, for that matter, read. Good LORD. And yes, I'm absolutely going to try it. I had a song in mind, but I looked it up on line, and ther's no way I can do it...so I'm going to go with the easiest song in the world...Janis Joplin's Mercedes Benz. I do a VERY good Janis Joplin. But frankly, I assure you I couldn't be worse then what's out there...including a group of six who not only couldn't stay on key, but couldn't follow the onscreen words and dissolved into giggles...except, unfortunately, for one gent in the group who could...and he was the one who couldn't sing to save his ass. But he did it very loudly in the key of what I think was Q.
And then the sun came out, and birds sang, and I got a text from Grant Wilfley asking me to do Boardwalk yesterday! Oh, glory! Oh, beloved Boardwalk! Oh...my GOD.
In case you are living in, say, Juneau or perhaps Nome, you will be aware that we're having' a heat wave, a tropical heat wave (sorry...old musical comedy gals tend to burst into song). So, naturally, we were shooting winter. Of COURSE.
Picture us, dear reader, in what was for me a gloriously convenient location...ten minutes by bus from my house and a beautifully late call time...8 am. Now picture us outdoors in that nice location for eight hours, wearing four layers of winter clothing in an actual temperature of 98 and a heat index of 110 degrees. Now picture us melting.
It was BRUTAL. God bless HBO, they got us into air conditioning for ten minutes every hour, but it really didn't help a whole lot. And there was tons of ice water and ice cold Gatorade. But, oh, my Lord.
The best part of it was the onlookers. Every time we'd go by them, someone was sure to say, "Gee, aren't you hot?" No, no, don't be silly. I ALWAYS wear a heavy coat and a large felt hat in 98 degree weather. Aren't you chilly in that tiny little sundress THAT I AM GOING TO SNATCH OFF YOUR BODY AND PUT ON BECAUSE I'M FUCKING DYING HERE?
Oy. However, HBO and the union will make sure we get a weather bump (i.e., more money for adverse conditions), and we all survived and no one passed out...and I discovered on my way home that there's a deli around the corner on Avenue D that sells 22 ounce Budweisers for $2 each...clearly this is a valuable thing to know.
And today at the law firm, Andrew was out the better part of the day and I actually got things DONE. Clearly, my star is ascending. And I've finally stopped sweating. When I got home yesterday, my damn UNDERWEAR was soaking wet.
Love, Wendy
As loyal readers may know...and one sincerely hopes that you are all deeply, truly loyal...you are, AREN'T you?...I have a baby trust fund that can only be accessed by going through my trustee, and then only if I describe in detail exactly what it is I want and exactly what it costs and exactly why I need it. This is precisely as friggin' annoying as you think it is.
So, during that blank and dull week in there, I decided that I needed a thousand bucks. I actually did need stuff, in fact, but it was stuff that I'd already lied about needing and spent the money on something else, so I had to invent something new to need money for, and I hit upon the idea of needing new glasses (since I wear specially made trifocals which cost $500 a pair, this is reasonable), and to pay off the last of a HUGE Con Ed bill (also true...it was originally $3000 and change, and I've paid it off up to the last $500, but it's still a drain to pay an extra $165 a month).
Anyway, I got the money, and bought myself a lovely new sewing machine and various bits and pieces for it, and then I did this, that and the other thing, and I was down to about 350 bucks...at which point, karma turned around and bit me in the ass. I woke up one morning and picked up my glasses and they promptly fell apart.
Well, since I can't see shit without them, this was a bit of a problem. (See above, $300 in the bank and $500 for new glasses.) So off I went and had to get TWO new pairs of glasses...one which I'm wearing now, for distance only (because otherwise I have no idea where I am because I can't read street signs without glasses) and an actual pair of trifocals, which I am paying off and which won't be ready for another week. I am here to tell you, that karma is a real bitch.
After that, it became Sunday somehow (last Sunday), and I bounced off to see Sarah doing her new karaoke hostess gig, which is walking distance from me.
I am truly amazed at what comes over people when karaoke is on the menu. I had never been to it, so I was completely unprepared for the fact that so many people are under the impression that they can sing. And, for that matter, read. Good LORD. And yes, I'm absolutely going to try it. I had a song in mind, but I looked it up on line, and ther's no way I can do it...so I'm going to go with the easiest song in the world...Janis Joplin's Mercedes Benz. I do a VERY good Janis Joplin. But frankly, I assure you I couldn't be worse then what's out there...including a group of six who not only couldn't stay on key, but couldn't follow the onscreen words and dissolved into giggles...except, unfortunately, for one gent in the group who could...and he was the one who couldn't sing to save his ass. But he did it very loudly in the key of what I think was Q.
And then the sun came out, and birds sang, and I got a text from Grant Wilfley asking me to do Boardwalk yesterday! Oh, glory! Oh, beloved Boardwalk! Oh...my GOD.
In case you are living in, say, Juneau or perhaps Nome, you will be aware that we're having' a heat wave, a tropical heat wave (sorry...old musical comedy gals tend to burst into song). So, naturally, we were shooting winter. Of COURSE.
Picture us, dear reader, in what was for me a gloriously convenient location...ten minutes by bus from my house and a beautifully late call time...8 am. Now picture us outdoors in that nice location for eight hours, wearing four layers of winter clothing in an actual temperature of 98 and a heat index of 110 degrees. Now picture us melting.
It was BRUTAL. God bless HBO, they got us into air conditioning for ten minutes every hour, but it really didn't help a whole lot. And there was tons of ice water and ice cold Gatorade. But, oh, my Lord.
The best part of it was the onlookers. Every time we'd go by them, someone was sure to say, "Gee, aren't you hot?" No, no, don't be silly. I ALWAYS wear a heavy coat and a large felt hat in 98 degree weather. Aren't you chilly in that tiny little sundress THAT I AM GOING TO SNATCH OFF YOUR BODY AND PUT ON BECAUSE I'M FUCKING DYING HERE?
Oy. However, HBO and the union will make sure we get a weather bump (i.e., more money for adverse conditions), and we all survived and no one passed out...and I discovered on my way home that there's a deli around the corner on Avenue D that sells 22 ounce Budweisers for $2 each...clearly this is a valuable thing to know.
And today at the law firm, Andrew was out the better part of the day and I actually got things DONE. Clearly, my star is ascending. And I've finally stopped sweating. When I got home yesterday, my damn UNDERWEAR was soaking wet.
Love, Wendy
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Boardwalk...with Camel
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
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
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
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