The Girl In the Cafe

This day, today, was sweet and fun and magical. And this day had some fun that exemplifies why I love where we live. One of about 113 reasons. In fact, I think I shall name them one by one in subsequent posts. Are we staying where we live you ask? Likely. Is it for sure? No. Is that fun? No. But I'm thinking the most positive thoughts that I have access to. (thank you Abraham)

Here is the story:

Today we met with one of the actors who is in our short film, Eddie Jones. Here is a truly delightful man, and holy crap is he talented. But I digress.

We met to have the lunch and provide a sharpie to him so that he may sign the still photos from our movie. Soon we will ship these out to our backers who paid above a certain level who get these cool still's from the movie with the fancy signatures. So there we were having our turkey burgers and laughing and Eddie was signing away while I drank bottomless iced tea.

Next to us was this a delightful man kept joining our conversation in an enjoyable rather than annoying way. Which as you can imagine is a tough line to walk, but he managed to. Turns out he is a writer who used to write on the TV show Becker. And since somehow Ted Danson had come up in the conversation, he piped in that Ted Danson happens to be a super swell guy - oh I know! Eddie performed with him on Cheers, no wait. We have to go back....

Because somewhere along the way delightful writer dude (we'll call him) somehow mentions that the gentleman who was until just a few minutes ago sitting next to him, is the guy who wrote The Deer Hunter.

Yes, The Deer Hunter! That is some iconic shit y'all!

So that's impressive of course but then it had also surfaced that Eddie worked with Robert Redford on the film Sneakers. Eddie played a bad guy but in turn said that Redford was just a lovely, approachable guy. Ok, I know I overuse lovely - so you know - I'm aware. Perhaps we were having the 'which celebs are lovely and approachable' conversation?

Which is what got us to Ted Danson but then, THEN! Deer Hunter dude walks back in and is just so hilarious and charming and I don't know, old hollywood in that 'What picture did we work on together?'  way. (Back then it wasn't a movie, it was a picture). As we were all being introduced to him there was some music playing and it somehow made sense that he would grab the nearest woman to spin her around and they do a little dance and at the time I think he knows her, but no, actually -not so much. Honestly that bit doesn't go so well, her purse sorta whacked him in the chest but huge kudos for effort, right?

By then the whole room of this little cafe is engaged in this sparkly and fun conversation and you couldn't spot on unsmiling face for miles. I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that somewhere along this timeline Morgan Fairchild walks in and DWD (delightful writer dude) says hello to her and she says hello back and holy kee-rap does she look good and I'm going whoa dude, this is fun stuff.

So THEN! As we're leaving with our little blond shortie who is of course receiving his own celebrity treatment for being so round-eyed and quiet and a great eater of hummus, and Deer Hunter dude and his posse of Old Hollywood are all outside and all say goodbye with winks and sparkling blue eyes and 'Hello my name is Howard'. At that point I'm restraining myself from saying Howard Who? Dish it! I've got to IMDB you on my iphone on the way home.

But I wasn't going home, I was going to my friends studio where he performed some visual effects magic to fix a little shadow situation in our movie. Which is why it's 12:15 am and due to this crazy lil day, I'm still buzzing. That and the iced tea.

Your starry eyed friend,


PS - Below is a couple of pictures of Eddie on our set. Just a lovely, delightful man. (kinda went for it with my favorite overused words)

Eddie Jones, over Scott Subiono's shoulder

Eddie Jones and Jennifer Nicole Lynn

Eat, Pray, Love

I loved this book. I know, me and 14 trillion other ladies. The movie is coming out soon. I'm anxious about it, I saw the trailer and - uh-boy. I don't remember a best friend that she confides in all the time from the book, do you? They invented a confiding best friend and that makes my heart sink.

A couple years ago around the time it was becoming the ginourmaous massive hit it was to become, one of my BF's and I  went to hear Elizabeth Gilbert speak.  She was on tour with Annie Lamott and I thought boy is that worth the 50 bucks or whatever it was - these were two amazing women breathing the same air. And this is BEFORE I read Operating Instructions, I thought I loved Annie Lamott from Bird by Bird but I had not idea that I loved her as deeply as it turns out I do.
But I digress.

Eat, Pray, Love. What an amazing journey. Such unbearably beautiful writing. I love her voice. I love her. I love her talent and guts and her unbearably beautiful writing. She is worthy of idolizing, and, clearly -  I do it.
And,
I don't think Julia Roberts should've played her.

There, I said it.

I don't.
I'm sure no one had a choice in the matter. But, let me tell you who should have played Elizabeth Gilbert in this movie that is DOOMED to fail because holy crap we all love this book too much and there's no way, just no way that a 95 minute movie is going to take us on the ride it needs to to even for a second give us a glimpse of the page turning goodness.

So yes, here is who it is.
Kate Winslet.
Am I right? I'm so right.

Oh dammit, I just googled that combo and I see that I'm not the first to come up with this. I'm sure everyone else said the same thing. Julia Roberts? Really? No! It should be...Kate. or Laura Linney. That's a great idea too.

Anyway, the point of all of this is that I just finished re-reading EPL and it totally inspired me. Not to leave my husband and go on a soul searching journey, but to stay with my husband and tiny tot and go on a soul searching journey. I think I'd call my version Sweet, Play, Love.

God bless me and my cheesy ways but I need to make that my mantra. What else is there really? That little boy shows me these all the time. His sweetness overflows in the little fountain of joyful squeals, fast crawling toward our waiting arms, and in his sweet smelling hair. If I actually sit and play with him, we find each other. We bonded today over the moving of the big legos from this bin to the other spot.  He stared into my eyes and laughed at my random observations. He's like a little alien who doesn't speak the language but gets it more than anyone I've ever met. And love? As you know, it's all we need. My damn cute husband is a walking lovebomb - when I stop and focus there instead of 18 other places, I hear birds and notice good lighting. So - when I come back to those things,  along with the gratitude I have for the health we have, the love of friends and family, that hummingbird that was hanging around this afternoon -  I can't get all freaked out by the future and all the stuff I'm freaked out by.

Although, frankly,  I'm kinda freaked out.
The trouble with coming out of the movie coma I'm faced with reality and it's a bit daunting.

Towards the end of EPL she talks about this time that she went to an island alone for a week and sat in solitude and silence and faced down her fears. She literally sat still, watched the feelings come and go and then invited her fears, shame and hurt into her heart. I have never heard of anything so brave. I was so moved when I read this, it floored me. Again let me tell you - she sat STILL inside of squirmy awful feelings and let them move through her - and then she INVITED them into her heart. Who does that? Seriously? Rockstars. Not real ones, I use that as a complimentary term. She's my hero.

So there you go. A little sass and sap for you on a Tuesday night, as I continually try to talk myself down from the freak out and back to the SPL.

Your memoir writing mama wanna-be,


PS - Here's some eat play love - stop it with the cuteness, right?

The boys making the birthday cake for the belated birthday party.  Not sugar of course, sweetened with maple syrup...

Living in Oblivion

Helllloooo Racefans!

I have never in my blogging career - (right, all nine months of it) - been gone so long. It was so sad! I missed you people. I missed my incessant checking of Sitemeter and that hopeful check of my email in my constant longing for your comments. I missed reading all of your blogs (boy do I have some catching up to do) and obsessively word smithing mine.

But I'm back and I'm ready to dish.

I've been in a make a movie cave for the last weeks, it's simultaneously a very fun and painful place. It's like that trash compacter that they land in in the middle of Star Wars. I'm surrounded by soupy trash, the walls are closing in and yet I'm hopeful for a rescue of some kind. And when it comes, which, by the way, looks like reaching the end of the day and by some miracle all of the shots on the shotlist have been achieved, the pain of the stress and angst goes away and then I blow a hole in another wall and climb in again hoping that I don't find myself in yet another giant trash compacter with snakes under the water. (or whatever the hell those things are).

And if you're wondering why I love this job based on the description above, I'd have to say that I'd agree - it absolutely makes no sense.

Have any of you seen the movie that I named this post after? Holy bejeasus is it good. It came out about a billion years ago with Steve Buschemi and I think that it's required viewing for any filmmaker. I was completely living in that oblivion for the last few days. Complete with on-set drama and surreal scenes.

We shot Friday from 11am-11pm. Saturday from 11am-12pm-ish. Sunday from 3:30pm-3:45am and then Monday from 6:30pm-6:00am. (well those were my times in and out - thankfully my crew wasn't there as long, most of them anyway). Needless to say my eyes are still bleeding from lack of sleep but I'm also still running on adrenaline.

We made a movie!

We did it!

With a crew size ranging from 25-50ppl each day we all gathered and moved lights and rolled camera and acted and got mad and got excited and brandished a fake gun which required a cop to stay outside of our location and had a really talented actor suffering terribly in a giant dinosaur mascot costume. It's a beautiful blur and there were many moments that were so unbearably stressful. Like these!

* we've only got 1 hour to get the three shots with the kid in it before the studio teacher shuts us down! (many faces were mad, but we got through it with a mad talented kid)
* we've only got 15 minutes before we lose the cop or he goes into overtime and kills our already stretched budget! (we did it, no overtime)
* we've only got :30 before we have to leave the liquor store. (we were out in 5 minutes to spare)
* our permit just ran out, that lost shot? (we didn't get it. sigh.)

And then there were moments that were so freakin' awesome. I guess it's like any extreme sport, sometimes it just hits. Like this!

Clarity, magic and genius collide. The right exact words tumble out of my mouth and the actor says 'ah-ha!' and the shot is just exactly the right size with the right lens, with the rich color and the backlight and all of these pieces play into a sweeping little symphony including the pacing of the dolly moving just the right speed and the light flare hitting and the performance reaching it's warm and exacting peak and then the valley comes and the dolly is done and I yell cut and do a Tiger Woods fist pump (I know he's a jackass, but a talented one so I'm going with him on this fist pump thing) and then we're on to the next. 

And we try again to find that sweet, sweet spot.

I guess that's why I'm wearing my Princess Lea buns on my head and willing to wade back into the water. That altered state is what the yogi's meditate for, the athletes train for, the actors find and lose, the artists take drugs and wander back to. It's frustrating that I need a BUNCH of damn people and a place and a script and a lot of money but sometimes I get that lucky too.

Wheee. That's all I can say. Fawking wheee. Lucky me.

With wild eyes and grateful heart,



P.S. - If you're wondering how the hell I did this project along side my husband with a one year old in the house, I'll tell you - it's a one word answer. Grandma. This film would not by any chance in a million been made without her incredible generosity. She just moved in and did the deed, she was Mom and Dad rolled into one cute Gram for 5 days and much of the days leading up to the shoot. We're amazed and our gratitude could never truly be expressed...

P.P.S. - This picture for some reason sums it up for me. The dinosaur butt coming out of the back seat along with our gaffer that day posing under the starlet just makes me really happy...more pics to come fo sure.

Flash of Genius

Our son is a genius, I mean - it's the only explanation.

I mean, sure he isn't walking or talking or anything stupid like that. Oh no, that would be weird. But! He's a problem solving hero and let me explain...

As you know, we live in LA. It's pretty and sunny here. It's sunny and we drive alot. We drive alot and the boy hangs out facing the wrong way. Toward the sun.

Which is totally donkey, but safe.

So I've tried some of those ridiculous window shades n' shizzle but they were plastic and lame and broke. And sure, I could get the ole Prius tinted in the window department, but uh, who's got tinting your window money? So I wind up doing really safe maneuvers like reaching over the back seat with my right arm and creating a tiny sliver of shadow with my closed fingers for Mr big blonde head who can sometimes be found thrashing from side to side to escape the relentless sun.

But! Recently I had one of those lil muslin blankets back there and got the bright idea to hold it up to shade him (don't worry, completely safe) and I was prepared to do this today when I traversed town in the west to east direction at the exact wrong time - ie sunset. But lo and behold, I looked behind me and this is what I saw. I won't say who the photographer is for this, I just repeat that it was completely safe.

He's holding the blanket up to shield his own eyes. When I saw it, I got a little misty.

So am I right? He's a super genius? I mean the guy isn't even one year old and he solved this problem like a complete champ and then left his hand mit-blanket up until we were clear of the sun. My husband would say that it's a result of all of the fish oil he gagged me with when I was preggers, and who knows? Maybe he's right. But geee-ross.
And then the poor kid gets fish oil in his apple sauce every morning. I mean, seriously gag me with a spoon right? Yes we do, gag him with a fishy apply spoon. Of course he thinks it's delish.

I've started singing this song to him: (to the tune of Spiderman)

Apple Fish
Apple Fish
Every baby loves apple fish
WATCH OUT!
There's fi--sh in your apppple sauce.

I know, it's ridiculous. And it makes us all really happy. The hubs loves it especially, he loves all of the inane songs I have made up for this kid. He's the musician and songwriter in the family, but so far I've written the tunes that are incredibly catchy like the original number:

'What do you say, super bean?" (there are several verses for this song, it was invented on our long road trip to Seattle)

or

The song I wrote when the boy was in his 'just watching' phase.

Everything he does is FAS-CIN-ATING,
everything he does is swell
Everything he does is AHH-Mazing,
he's the Daddy you can tell.
'Cause, Everything he does is FA-AHNtastic
everything he does is neat..
everything he does is SUPER-duper
he's the Dad he doesn't eat meat'.

I know, I know.
It's so good.

Ok, now that I've slipped into the utterly ridiculous land that I have, let me march deeper in and tell this story on the hubs. Because he is cute.

He recently came home from an event where he learned more about a particular brand of fish oil (gag). He was pretty excited about the flavor and the brand and wanted me to be the guinea pig because he clearly knows how much I enjoy taking this stuff. (gag). So he says something about it being apple flavored which of course I think he's kidding and kee-rack up about it because in my mind I'm already singing..

Apple Fish
Apple fish...

But he's looking annoyed.

Hubs: Oh yea, that's so hilarious.
Me: Um, yea, it is actually.
Hubs: So anyway, the apple flavor completely masks the fish taste...
Me: Oh no, you're serious.
Hubs: (more annoyed) Yes!
Me: The fish oil is flavored with apple?
Hubs: Yes!
Me: And you don't see what's funny?
(blank look)
Me: (singing)
Hubs: Oh my god.
Me: You seriously didn't think about that?
Hubs: No.

What follows is my laughing til I peed (not that this is a shocker, can I get an amen Momma's?) and landed on the kitchen floor and him laughing along - yes - but clearly not as hard. I'm not sure if this story is funny to anyone else, it just makes me squeal with laughter to think about how he listened to an entire evening of conversation about apple fish oil and didn't think about our morning ritual. But I digress, as I often do.

Back to the boy genius. I guess what's blowing me away is not only the problem solving aspect of what occurred today, but also the self care and the evidence that - yes - someone is completely home and thinks for himself and things are really starting to cook with gas in that big head. The fact that he can shovel food into his own mouth with his tiny hands (boy he does enjoy the yams people), he can drink out of his own sippy cup, that he can motor around and get himself into and out of precarious situations. That he figured out how to STAND UP on his own, (he's not getting any encouragement from me on that one). But how does it happen? It's so freakin' miraculous.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised because I consider people who have a good sense of humor to be smart. And we have big laughs all the time.  I personally think his humor is sophisticated, but I guess I'd have to admit that it's more likely that mine is super simple and juvenile. Tonight he almost fell over in the bath tub when I did the 'turtle appearing over the side' trick, it just killed.  'Cause there's really nothing cooler than sharing a laugh with a tiny boy who only a year ago was still swimming around in my belly.

I mean the genius baby who was in my belly, who made an appearance on the planet in early April. I'm so excited to celebrate him in a few days, afterall - he's loosing 'infant' status. Wowee.

Missing

Oh hi.

I've been remiss and missing from this space and let me apologize in advance for apologizing because it's kind of ridiculous. I mean. Y'all aren't sitting next to your google readers tapping your foot and wondering where I am, right? No. I know that. I so often feel this delightful and delicious tingly pull in this direction, oh - OK, nightly. More often than not I resist the urge, close the computer and go to bed.

Because right now it's either LCD and all the fun I have up here yammering on about my THOUGHTS and FEELINGS and occasionally an IMPRESSION and maybe even an occasional OBSERVATION.

Or sleep.

And as you Momma's know, sleep is a nice thing. And clearly it's been winning.

During the day it's chasing tiny boy and making sure brown dog stays clear of tiny boy and his tiny hands and his new teeth and charming smile so that brown dog doesn't do some dastardly doggie thing like nip at the mischievous tiny he tries to grab tall soft, brown ears.

And mushing the food or heating up the mush or steaming the finger food or mixing the stuff or making sure there are enough cheerios on the tray. And watching those impossibly tiny fingers PICK UP the tiny bits of carrots or pears or apples or o's or yam bits. And occasionally drop the bits for the brown nose to scoop in and enjoy. That game hasn't become a full time pastime but I expect that it is coming soon.

And the toys and the books and soft green ball that pile out of the little faux leather chest in the morning and then pile back into that same little brown chest at night.

And then there are all of those tiny shirts, the ones with the stripes and the tiny dogs on the front or the soft pants and the socks that are too small when you buy them and the shoes, why doesn't he have any shoes, what the heck size is he? And the hand-me-downs thank god for those but then you've got to hand them back and what box and which mom goes to which baby is going to wear it next. In the meantime they've got to be washed. And folded. And put away. And coaxed over a big head.

And at night it's a mix of emailing and emailing and working and conference calls and trying to think clear, concise and meaningful and oh dinner and right now of course the olympics (oh crap I missed it tonight) but we need to do a re-write of the script and we are casting later this week and I have to go location scout, but I'll be doing that while he naps in the car and and and.

I guess it's obvious why sleep is winning.

But for what it's worth I am writing into this white box in my head all day. The sweet bits of floating observations like the backlight of the afternoon sun, a halo on his sweet blonde head. Or his smile of discovery at a new thing (a bird!) which he now shares with me in his eyes, the recognition in his eyes of me - and - of a thing - and - of the separation of him and me and thing and then his delight in it or me or him or frustration when something is awry. Then comes my scramble to discover what IT is although sometimes if I have had enough sleep I might just sit in (or next to) his frustration and let him BE without fixing it.

And that's a pretty good reason, right?

Floating in the joy bits,



P.S.  - One of these Monday's I'll get to writing about An Education. Short review: Hell ya, see it.

Happiness

Today was one of the amazing days where time moved in a very odd and deliriously, delicious way. One minute forward, two minutes on hold, what feels like three hours turns out to be only :42 minutes. Have you had this experience? It's either some kind of acid flashback (Hey - I saw the Grateful Dead in my 20's) or it's just life's way of pointing out that time in fact doesn't ACTUALLY exist and the key to a stress-free year is to keep that lil fact front and center in the ol' cranium.

I wonder if time is going all Salvador Dali on me due to my proximity to the BHB? He's in a really cool phase of what appears to be his first class on perspective. He is constantly searching for a new angle on the shiny things in life. He ducks his head under to look up under the window shade, then checks the streaming light from 14 more observation points along the way. He dives sideways to observe the brown dog in a 90 degree angle, and then with great abandon and thrill, he flings himself back up in my general direction. I haven't caught the digital image of it yet, but he's been using his hand in an L position to observe the world. Like a viewfinder.

Me: Ah jeasus, just what this family needs, another director.

BHB: (grins) Squeek! Gurgle. Bah. Bah. Bah.

Me: No seriously dude, one control freak per household, please.

Who knows? I may have to step down from that auspicious post. We'll see in a few years. Here is a photo of our hero finding his reflection particularly fantastic in a shiny trash can at Whole Foods.

And the light in LA was perfect today. Rose Bowl Parade fans, did you notice?  It was that soft pink light, like what they get in Paris in the fall. (Umm, okay. I've been once. In the fall.) They have the most amazing grapes. Have you eaten french grapes? Holy crap, it's like eating perfume only that sounds dastardly and this is the opposite. If I could live in Paris, I would move in a heartbeat. Although, wait....since I don't drink anymore, that might suck. Harummph. I may need to rethink that fantasy.

But back to the USA. And today with it's long, lingering beauty. I realized something that I almost didn't want to admit to myself, and it's kinda shocking that I'm sending on over to you in this etherweb of wires and wireless-ness and other mysterious techno-weenie magic.

I am really happy.

I am. Life is really good. It's like a french grape. It's big and juicy and not covered in pesticides. My mom is in town and decided to stick around for three more weeks (sob! joy!). I'm all yummed up on good food and the good lovin' that occasionally a holiday season will deliver. I'm healthy. (we all are) My baby is STOOPID cute and killin' me with his fantastic ways. I should note that the cynical side of my brain wants to jump in here and type out all of the reason's I shouldn't be so damn joyful. But.

Hey, of course Mr. C-side has a point...but, you know what? I'm going to tell it to eff off. This kind of unreasonable satisfaction doesn't come all the time, might as well surf it's sweet little well-lit wave.

Happy New Year pretty internet friends!



PS - Also a big ol howdy welcome to the new followers. I know Stefanie sent you over and I will totally make out with her tomorrow when I see her to thank her. (I kid, but you know, she is hot) I hope to keep y'all entertained over here too!

PPS - Be sure to vote in my shmancy new poll over there to the left and up. What movie shall I type to you about on Monday? 

My Mom rockin' the Ergo @ Zen Zoo. Speaking of happy, right? Separating these two will NOT be easy later this month. Best not to think about that.











Santa takes a break from the hard Santa Baby workload. That look is so faraway and sweet, isn't it?