Hey there! We got back from our vacation Monday late. Since then, I've been kept pretty busy dealing with the cleanup from that trip and getting ready to close on our new house. As I type this, we are closing tomorrow. Probably by the time this gets posted it will have already happened. Then begins the task of getting the new place ready; its in fine shape, but will need a fair amount of work done before its ready to handle us. And of course, school starts early this year, at least a week sooner than I can ever remember it starting, and there is no way on earth the place will be ready and we can be in it in two weeks time. So Trish will be ferrying him to school in the wee hours of the morning and I'll have to go and pick him up for at least the first two weeks. I have a hope that a month will be enough time to do what we want, but Trish is thinking October. I fear she will be right.
In the meantime, I can give you househunting tips, trips to Disneyland tips, or highlights of the vacation stories or something of all of them, if you like. Let me know in the comments. Otherwise, I'll just go with what strikes me.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Californee-ah's the Place You Oughtta Be...
On July 16, the next Harry Potter book will be out. I pre-ordered mine from Amazon about a zillion weeks ago. We figured that when it came out, we would take Jacob to one of those midnight sale thingies that started up around the time book three arrived. It would be fun.
Well. We are scheduled to be vacationing in California at that time. No big deal, we can go to a midnight sale there (unless as Trish suggested, we just order a book and have it sent to her dad's house, where we will be spending part of the time).
The fly in the piontment here is that we are only going to have one copy of Harry between Jacob and myself (mine is going to be sent to my house, remember?). This could lead to some friction. I know this kid, he'll be reading in between every driving stop and when we're hanging out in hotel rooms or at his Grandad's house. And seven year-olds aren't known for their discretion. He's likely to blurt out something like "It was cool the way the Flortibasts ate the wall in order to save Harry and get the Maguffin back, wasn't it?!?" without considering the possibility that I or others around might not have gotten to the part about the Flortibasts. Or the missing Maguffin, for that matter.
So what this means is I'll be staying up late at night, trying to get far enough ahead so he can't inadvertently spoil me, and so I can read to him (despite being totally able to read on his own, he still likes for us to have a reading time together -- very sweet) for bedtime without being caught unawares. I'm going to be fighting with my own son over reading time for Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince.
A note. This shall be my last post for a full two weeks. Our vacation will be that long, and on our return I may be caught up in the details of finalizing the purchase of a house closer in to central Austin, not to mention the effort to move in to said house, and the disruption that will cause. So expect things to be sporadic for quite a while even after August gets well under way and school starts up again.
Well. We are scheduled to be vacationing in California at that time. No big deal, we can go to a midnight sale there (unless as Trish suggested, we just order a book and have it sent to her dad's house, where we will be spending part of the time).
The fly in the piontment here is that we are only going to have one copy of Harry between Jacob and myself (mine is going to be sent to my house, remember?). This could lead to some friction. I know this kid, he'll be reading in between every driving stop and when we're hanging out in hotel rooms or at his Grandad's house. And seven year-olds aren't known for their discretion. He's likely to blurt out something like "It was cool the way the Flortibasts ate the wall in order to save Harry and get the Maguffin back, wasn't it?!?" without considering the possibility that I or others around might not have gotten to the part about the Flortibasts. Or the missing Maguffin, for that matter.
So what this means is I'll be staying up late at night, trying to get far enough ahead so he can't inadvertently spoil me, and so I can read to him (despite being totally able to read on his own, he still likes for us to have a reading time together -- very sweet) for bedtime without being caught unawares. I'm going to be fighting with my own son over reading time for Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince.
A note. This shall be my last post for a full two weeks. Our vacation will be that long, and on our return I may be caught up in the details of finalizing the purchase of a house closer in to central Austin, not to mention the effort to move in to said house, and the disruption that will cause. So expect things to be sporadic for quite a while even after August gets well under way and school starts up again.
Friday, July 08, 2005
A Tale of Two Reunions
In the past three weeks I've experienced two reunions. One was a by-product of a wedding, the other was planned. The first was the wedding of my old college buddy Pete. Most of those people I hadn't seen in person (or in some cases, even in email) since my own wedding almost eight years ago. The other was my Twenty-Year High School Reunion. I hadn't seen any of those folks since my last reunion, ten years ago. Some I hadn't seen since graduation.
Both were enjoyable. But I found the impromptu one more satisfying.
I enjoyed high school. It was and is a small place (my graduating class had 65 people in it), so we didn't have the sort of cliques that develop in bigger schools. There were groupings, but you had to work at it if you wanted to be exclusive. There just weren't enough people to create the distance. I wasn't popular, but neither was I unpopular. I was smart, and so had something of a license to be weird. But most of my better friends were older -- they were juniors, seniors or sophomores when I was a freshman. In a way, I had more fun in the hour or so I spent with one of older friends than the 5+ hours at the reunion. I got on well enough with my classmates, but only one of them was really a close friend, and he couldn't make it. So I was left with the standard stuff, where are you, what are you doing now, etc. etc. Oh, and the typical observances of who had sagged the most, held up the best, or had actually gotten better-looking since the last reunion or graduation.
At the ten year, I had received the Most Eligible Bachelor Award. This time, I go the "Most Improved" Award. I dunno what I was to have improved from exactly (graduation? Ten years ago?), but the sense of backhanded compliment was pretty strong. Funny side story: One classmate came up to my wife and related how she and others were so happy that I had "found someone." Apparently she and some others were "worried". Trish just stared at her, and she apparently realized how awful she had sounded, made some excuse, and scurried back inside. Thing is, I'm pretty sure she was one person interested in being "someone", and hadn't exactly been Miss Popularity back in the day. Meow.
Another element getting in the way was answering the question of what I was doing. I've talked about this before. I had a hard time with that question. I'm not sure I ever answered it precisely the same way twice. I didn't want to lie, nor did I want to sound like I was bragging. So at different times I emphasized I was retired, had gotten lucky in the stock market, was a stay at home dad, was busy handling the family portfolio and taking care of the house, and so on. All of that is essentially true. Well, perhaps not the retired part. As my mom famously observed more than once, "Your daddy may have I retired, but I haven't!" I reckon most SAHD's would concur with that sentiment. We may not be working in an office or wherever 8-5, but we sure ain't retired! Anyway, the point is that dealing with that issue was still confusing and uncomfortable and detracted from my enjoying the event.
The wedding was different. For some reason, I was able to be pretty up-front with my old college buddies about events, and did not really care about their reaction. Was it because we had been closer in college, and shared more experiences than most of those who were from my high school? Was it was because I had been able to continue to be around many of them after college, and so they all knew I'd been in the job world and been a working stiff just like everyone else? Was it because I had been voted most likely to succeed in high school and felt I had to live up to that, whereas in college I was just one more bright kid amongst the bunch? Some of whom hadn't gotten a degree anyway, whereas I had, and on time too? I don’t know. They mostly acted envious, while the folks from high school seemed a bit bemused. But that might stem from my own difficulties in settling on a single narrative or take on events.
All in all, an interesting pair of events.
Both were enjoyable. But I found the impromptu one more satisfying.
I enjoyed high school. It was and is a small place (my graduating class had 65 people in it), so we didn't have the sort of cliques that develop in bigger schools. There were groupings, but you had to work at it if you wanted to be exclusive. There just weren't enough people to create the distance. I wasn't popular, but neither was I unpopular. I was smart, and so had something of a license to be weird. But most of my better friends were older -- they were juniors, seniors or sophomores when I was a freshman. In a way, I had more fun in the hour or so I spent with one of older friends than the 5+ hours at the reunion. I got on well enough with my classmates, but only one of them was really a close friend, and he couldn't make it. So I was left with the standard stuff, where are you, what are you doing now, etc. etc. Oh, and the typical observances of who had sagged the most, held up the best, or had actually gotten better-looking since the last reunion or graduation.
At the ten year, I had received the Most Eligible Bachelor Award. This time, I go the "Most Improved" Award. I dunno what I was to have improved from exactly (graduation? Ten years ago?), but the sense of backhanded compliment was pretty strong. Funny side story: One classmate came up to my wife and related how she and others were so happy that I had "found someone." Apparently she and some others were "worried". Trish just stared at her, and she apparently realized how awful she had sounded, made some excuse, and scurried back inside. Thing is, I'm pretty sure she was one person interested in being "someone", and hadn't exactly been Miss Popularity back in the day. Meow.
Another element getting in the way was answering the question of what I was doing. I've talked about this before. I had a hard time with that question. I'm not sure I ever answered it precisely the same way twice. I didn't want to lie, nor did I want to sound like I was bragging. So at different times I emphasized I was retired, had gotten lucky in the stock market, was a stay at home dad, was busy handling the family portfolio and taking care of the house, and so on. All of that is essentially true. Well, perhaps not the retired part. As my mom famously observed more than once, "Your daddy may have I retired, but I haven't!" I reckon most SAHD's would concur with that sentiment. We may not be working in an office or wherever 8-5, but we sure ain't retired! Anyway, the point is that dealing with that issue was still confusing and uncomfortable and detracted from my enjoying the event.
The wedding was different. For some reason, I was able to be pretty up-front with my old college buddies about events, and did not really care about their reaction. Was it because we had been closer in college, and shared more experiences than most of those who were from my high school? Was it was because I had been able to continue to be around many of them after college, and so they all knew I'd been in the job world and been a working stiff just like everyone else? Was it because I had been voted most likely to succeed in high school and felt I had to live up to that, whereas in college I was just one more bright kid amongst the bunch? Some of whom hadn't gotten a degree anyway, whereas I had, and on time too? I don’t know. They mostly acted envious, while the folks from high school seemed a bit bemused. But that might stem from my own difficulties in settling on a single narrative or take on events.
All in all, an interesting pair of events.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Redwall Agonistes
As I have written several times before, our son Jacob is a voracious reader. For the past couple of months he has been working his way through the Redwall series. Put briefly, the Redwall books focus on talking animals and their adventures in a quasi-Medievalesque setting. The books themselves are fine, but Brian Jacques has written 17 of them since the first was published in 1986, and things are getting a wee bit repetitive.
Things tend to go like this: The good beasts of Redwall/Salamadastron/The Forest have a feast. Joe Bad Guy has this horde of bad guys, and they are marching on Redwall/Salamandastron/The Forest to pillage and maim. Trish wonders why the good guys haven't figured out that if they would only give up feasting, they would have a lot fewer invasions to deal with.
Eventually, the Good Guys see the Bad Guy army, and a siege develops. The Bad Guys outnumber the good guys, usually by a few zillion. Treachery and double crossing abound amongst the bad guys.
Good guys die. Creatures will be called by name solely to get offed a sentence later. For reasons usually unrelated to the battle, a handful of creatures journey across the forest and get involved.
Creatures eat. What they eat is always described in considerable detail. Always. And is always some weird vegetarian thingy. I don't know if they are made up foods or its stuff they really eat in the UK.
Someone encounters the shrews and gets them to help out. Always. Baby creatures appear and take a prominent part in the action. They tend to speak with cutesy voices.
Eventually, the creastures on the journey encounter the siege or return with the object of their quest, which has something to do with ending the siege. In a final climactic battle, the vermin are driven off. If a badger is leading the good guys, then he tends to die while killing the bad guy leader. Badgers are just that way, it seems. A big feast is held, the end.
Like I said, its actually a pretty good series. And no doubt the repititions are no worse than other classic series, like the Hardy Boys, or even Harry Potter. But after 17 books, read almost in a row...oy.
Things tend to go like this: The good beasts of Redwall/Salamadastron/The Forest have a feast. Joe Bad Guy has this horde of bad guys, and they are marching on Redwall/Salamandastron/The Forest to pillage and maim. Trish wonders why the good guys haven't figured out that if they would only give up feasting, they would have a lot fewer invasions to deal with.
Eventually, the Good Guys see the Bad Guy army, and a siege develops. The Bad Guys outnumber the good guys, usually by a few zillion. Treachery and double crossing abound amongst the bad guys.
Good guys die. Creatures will be called by name solely to get offed a sentence later. For reasons usually unrelated to the battle, a handful of creatures journey across the forest and get involved.
Creatures eat. What they eat is always described in considerable detail. Always. And is always some weird vegetarian thingy. I don't know if they are made up foods or its stuff they really eat in the UK.
Someone encounters the shrews and gets them to help out. Always. Baby creatures appear and take a prominent part in the action. They tend to speak with cutesy voices.
Eventually, the creastures on the journey encounter the siege or return with the object of their quest, which has something to do with ending the siege. In a final climactic battle, the vermin are driven off. If a badger is leading the good guys, then he tends to die while killing the bad guy leader. Badgers are just that way, it seems. A big feast is held, the end.
Like I said, its actually a pretty good series. And no doubt the repititions are no worse than other classic series, like the Hardy Boys, or even Harry Potter. But after 17 books, read almost in a row...oy.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Progress Report
So, it's been a while. Nice to see that the hit meter has been pretty steady over the week or more since my last post. Gee thanks, guys! Nice to be appreciated. Your reward is a longer post than usual!
Much and little has happened. The big event of the last week for me has been surviving Vacation Bible School. Many people (parents, fellow workers) commented on how well the whole thing came off. Which is good, because the conceit of play-acting like ancient Israelites in the city of Jerusalem around the time of the Crucifixion was certainly something that could be fraught with peril.
My own role, which was that of a Rabbi teaching in Synagogue was apparently a big hit. I'm not sure how much of that had much to do with me or the fact that for part of three days the kids got to practice writing Hebrew letters (on tablets I made out of oil-based clay and heavy posterboard. Oil-based clay won't dry out -- at least not easily). That activity was surprisingly popular.
I had to do my thing outdoors, which was mostly just as well, since the younger kids tended to leave bits of clay scattered about. Mostly just as well, since it was pretty warm, and several days saw me with a soaked shirt by the end. The way we did things was thus: I'd bring them in, make them wear their yarmalukes, ask what they had done that day, and do a reading from the "Torah" (I made a scroll out of heavy dowels, stained them, and wrote the OT verses we needed for the week on the paper), which I kept in an "ark" made from a nice wicker chest, covered in burgundy cloth. I'd give them the meaning of the Torah reading in words of one syllable, then follow up with a story of some sort, and describe some experiences a temple or synagogue goer of the time might see.
At times, either via my script or because of comments from the kids, I was called to upon to talk about Jesus. Credit to the script in that it said I should be hesitant and uncomfortable about how to deal with him -- though it didn’t go so far as commenter Dave suggested it probably should. Frankly, I was uncomfortable with that part of the role. I've no clue to what degree the kids saw me as a real authority figure, and how much stock they put into what I said, but while I desired to be true to the role, I didn't want to come across as too down on this Jesus fellow. I mean, I am, and we all there were Christians, after all (probably. I mean, I suppose its possible some of the kids were Hindu or something, but that strikes me as unlikely). We were there to present a Christian message, albeit in a different way. I suspect I'm worrying too much. Moving on…
I don't know if we have a house or not. We thought we had a contract on the place by last Thursday. But in the intervening time, the wicked stepsister (a realtor in California) has intruded, and is apparently berating the local family members (the house in question belonged to their parents, now deceased) for being too accommodating. Granted, it’s an unusual situation, which I'll spare you more details of, but I thought we basically had a deal (admittedly very skewed in our favor, but we weren't going to screw anyone) and she's interfering. Anyway, we're adjusting our terms to satisfy the other folks.
We'll walk away if we have to, but it’s a bit frustrating to me. Whups, while typing this, I just got an email from our realtor, including some new document. Hmm, seems computer error made things a wee bit more complex than intended, but they are now getting sorted out. The seller's realtor thinks things will be okay. Well, we'll see.
As if that weren't confusing enough, I've been trying to sell and buy some land on our ranch down below San Antonio. The lady I tried to sell some land to told me she already owned it! It took me a week between Bible School and the house business to get back to them, but I finally called the County Clerk and the Tax Assessor. Neither one of them is sure who the land really belongs to. In '56, Some family we call "Z" paid the taxes. In '58 it was my family (my grandfather and his wife). Then in 1960, someone else (who we'll call "X") did. In '61, both my family and group X paid taxes on it. In '66, Another outfit, "Y" paid. In '69, It was my family and "X". In '82, it was definitely my family (in the person of my dad). From at least 1992 onwards, both "Y" and my Dad were paying. Got all that? Now, I'm assuming here I didn't miss something while the Tax Assessor was telling me all that, and we both suspect that "Y" and "Z" are actually relatives, quite possibly a father and daughter.
I'm entirely willing to believe that my Dad or Grandad sold this piece of land in the ancient mists of time, and that it was somehow missed on our deeds. It would be easier than you think for that to happen. Our land, all 1200 acres of it, is subdivided into 10 acre tracts (well, most are 10 acres. A handful are slightly larger, another handful much smaller). The plots were often bought up piecemeal, over a period of 40-odd years. I have deeds referencing single tracts. Other deeds deal with 20 or thirty. Anyway, the point is, I'd wouldn't make a fuss if it looked like that was the case (I've already composed the apology letter in my head). But I want to know for sure, and it may take a full-on title search to determine that. What we'll do if it turns out we probably own the land and the other person chooses to fight, I don’t know.
One final note. I'm doing better about getting things done this summer than last. Not great, but better. Not sure what the difference is. Maybe more things that are urgent in character and need doing right away, so they get done. Some of my longer-term projects are still kinda stuck. So we'll see what happens next, but I’m writing July off as far as productivity goes.
Till next time I get some time, have a good one!
Much and little has happened. The big event of the last week for me has been surviving Vacation Bible School. Many people (parents, fellow workers) commented on how well the whole thing came off. Which is good, because the conceit of play-acting like ancient Israelites in the city of Jerusalem around the time of the Crucifixion was certainly something that could be fraught with peril.
My own role, which was that of a Rabbi teaching in Synagogue was apparently a big hit. I'm not sure how much of that had much to do with me or the fact that for part of three days the kids got to practice writing Hebrew letters (on tablets I made out of oil-based clay and heavy posterboard. Oil-based clay won't dry out -- at least not easily). That activity was surprisingly popular.
I had to do my thing outdoors, which was mostly just as well, since the younger kids tended to leave bits of clay scattered about. Mostly just as well, since it was pretty warm, and several days saw me with a soaked shirt by the end. The way we did things was thus: I'd bring them in, make them wear their yarmalukes, ask what they had done that day, and do a reading from the "Torah" (I made a scroll out of heavy dowels, stained them, and wrote the OT verses we needed for the week on the paper), which I kept in an "ark" made from a nice wicker chest, covered in burgundy cloth. I'd give them the meaning of the Torah reading in words of one syllable, then follow up with a story of some sort, and describe some experiences a temple or synagogue goer of the time might see.
At times, either via my script or because of comments from the kids, I was called to upon to talk about Jesus. Credit to the script in that it said I should be hesitant and uncomfortable about how to deal with him -- though it didn’t go so far as commenter Dave suggested it probably should. Frankly, I was uncomfortable with that part of the role. I've no clue to what degree the kids saw me as a real authority figure, and how much stock they put into what I said, but while I desired to be true to the role, I didn't want to come across as too down on this Jesus fellow. I mean, I am, and we all there were Christians, after all (probably. I mean, I suppose its possible some of the kids were Hindu or something, but that strikes me as unlikely). We were there to present a Christian message, albeit in a different way. I suspect I'm worrying too much. Moving on…
I don't know if we have a house or not. We thought we had a contract on the place by last Thursday. But in the intervening time, the wicked stepsister (a realtor in California) has intruded, and is apparently berating the local family members (the house in question belonged to their parents, now deceased) for being too accommodating. Granted, it’s an unusual situation, which I'll spare you more details of, but I thought we basically had a deal (admittedly very skewed in our favor, but we weren't going to screw anyone) and she's interfering. Anyway, we're adjusting our terms to satisfy the other folks.
We'll walk away if we have to, but it’s a bit frustrating to me. Whups, while typing this, I just got an email from our realtor, including some new document. Hmm, seems computer error made things a wee bit more complex than intended, but they are now getting sorted out. The seller's realtor thinks things will be okay. Well, we'll see.
As if that weren't confusing enough, I've been trying to sell and buy some land on our ranch down below San Antonio. The lady I tried to sell some land to told me she already owned it! It took me a week between Bible School and the house business to get back to them, but I finally called the County Clerk and the Tax Assessor. Neither one of them is sure who the land really belongs to. In '56, Some family we call "Z" paid the taxes. In '58 it was my family (my grandfather and his wife). Then in 1960, someone else (who we'll call "X") did. In '61, both my family and group X paid taxes on it. In '66, Another outfit, "Y" paid. In '69, It was my family and "X". In '82, it was definitely my family (in the person of my dad). From at least 1992 onwards, both "Y" and my Dad were paying. Got all that? Now, I'm assuming here I didn't miss something while the Tax Assessor was telling me all that, and we both suspect that "Y" and "Z" are actually relatives, quite possibly a father and daughter.
I'm entirely willing to believe that my Dad or Grandad sold this piece of land in the ancient mists of time, and that it was somehow missed on our deeds. It would be easier than you think for that to happen. Our land, all 1200 acres of it, is subdivided into 10 acre tracts (well, most are 10 acres. A handful are slightly larger, another handful much smaller). The plots were often bought up piecemeal, over a period of 40-odd years. I have deeds referencing single tracts. Other deeds deal with 20 or thirty. Anyway, the point is, I'd wouldn't make a fuss if it looked like that was the case (I've already composed the apology letter in my head). But I want to know for sure, and it may take a full-on title search to determine that. What we'll do if it turns out we probably own the land and the other person chooses to fight, I don’t know.
One final note. I'm doing better about getting things done this summer than last. Not great, but better. Not sure what the difference is. Maybe more things that are urgent in character and need doing right away, so they get done. Some of my longer-term projects are still kinda stuck. So we'll see what happens next, but I’m writing July off as far as productivity goes.
Till next time I get some time, have a good one!
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
The Lazy Days of Summer
Whoever wrote that was obviously not a stay at home parent. Or perhaps just not me.
Since Jake got out of school I've helped have a nice dinner for the new pastor and some friends, gotten some training for Vacation Bible School, looked at houses, planned for and got stuff to play my role for VBS (I'm a Rabbi -- Yahweh, give me strength, and apologies to all the Jewish folk reading this), took Jake to the dentist, shopped for a new DVD player, installed said DVD player, and oh, yeah, tried to keep up with the regular house stuff.
Tomorrow, we go to SeaWorld, the next day meet some guys to look over their plans to finish out a house we're interested in, and go to an extra-long drum practice. Saturday we have karate, a birthday party and a music recital. Sunday features a special church service and then set-up for VBS.
Yeesh. I knew I said we were going to have a busy summer, but its something else to actually live it. And this isn't really supposed to be the busy part.
When does school start again…?
Since Jake got out of school I've helped have a nice dinner for the new pastor and some friends, gotten some training for Vacation Bible School, looked at houses, planned for and got stuff to play my role for VBS (I'm a Rabbi -- Yahweh, give me strength, and apologies to all the Jewish folk reading this), took Jake to the dentist, shopped for a new DVD player, installed said DVD player, and oh, yeah, tried to keep up with the regular house stuff.
Tomorrow, we go to SeaWorld, the next day meet some guys to look over their plans to finish out a house we're interested in, and go to an extra-long drum practice. Saturday we have karate, a birthday party and a music recital. Sunday features a special church service and then set-up for VBS.
Yeesh. I knew I said we were going to have a busy summer, but its something else to actually live it. And this isn't really supposed to be the busy part.
When does school start again…?
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Two Days of School Left. Not That Anyone's Counting...
Despite daily watering, portions of an attempted herb garden were bone-dry an inch or two below the surface. I find this most frustrating, and it's not even my project. The soil must just be wrong -- we're going have to cart in a bunch of compost or soil from elsewhere and till it in. Assuming we stay here, that is. We'd rather not, but the house-hunting has yet to turn up an underpriced palace 10 minutes from campus in a hidden canyon where the people live to be thousands of years old…wait, that’s a plot from an old movie…
Anyway, still here. Tonight is Jacob's "student led conference" where apparently the kids explain to us what they learned all year. Should be interesting. Just two more days of school, and we'll have a week to get ready for Vacation Bible School, where I have graciously or foolishly consented to act the part of a rabbi teaching in the synagogue. There's some ironic justice to that, as my birth-grandfather was Jewish (a long story), but I've a feeling I'll be pretty much shot for the rest of the day when we get home from VBS at noon.
I'll try and keep you posted
Anyway, still here. Tonight is Jacob's "student led conference" where apparently the kids explain to us what they learned all year. Should be interesting. Just two more days of school, and we'll have a week to get ready for Vacation Bible School, where I have graciously or foolishly consented to act the part of a rabbi teaching in the synagogue. There's some ironic justice to that, as my birth-grandfather was Jewish (a long story), but I've a feeling I'll be pretty much shot for the rest of the day when we get home from VBS at noon.
I'll try and keep you posted
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
In The Good Ol' Summertime
Next week is the last week of school. The summer begins. I look towards it with anticipation and dread. No more getting up at 6AM! No more trying to make a tasty breakfast and lunch while still half-asleep. On the other hand, there is the issue of having my wonderful son in tow for all the errandry that there is, and having to force myself to say "no" sometimes when he asks to play with me (and thereby get that blasted Harry Chapin song running through my head).
Then. We tried to determine all the things we wanted to do with the summer. We had far more things than we had summer. The entire month of July is booked. When we aren't going somewhere we're going to have to be recovering from having been somewhere. There are Seaworld trips, Schlitterbahn trips, several possible weekly activities (vacation bible school, a drama camp, a nature camp)…
We have striven to not be one of those families constantly on the go from soccer practice to piano lessons to little league to karate etc., but we tend to lose it during the summer. It seems like such a vast expanse of time, but it goes by pretty quick once you're in it. You've got about 12 weeks all told, and fitting stuff in is harder than one thinks.
Oh and there's that bit about moving closer in to the university. We haven't found the perfect house. We've found one that has definite possibilities, but its at the top of our range, which means it would be a while before we could make it more to our liking. Or we could just wait and see if we could find a less expensive place and then fix it up the way we want it. Then I start thinking of all the contractor horror stories we have heard over the years.
Finally, I worry about the implications for my time management project. Physical tasks are generally not a big problem. I can easily refocus despite interruptions. But when working on a mental project, like writing a letter, or an article, or filling out a form, I am easily distracted and have a hard time getting back into the frame of mind I need to do that job. I've seen it happening this week, as I've interrupted my days to run out and see some houses. It has been very hard to return and do what I need to do to meet my goals for the week and month.
Well, we'll just have to see what happens. My hope is that being aware of what I need to do and trying to do the Daytimer thing will help me stay focused, but I don't know if that will work.
Then. We tried to determine all the things we wanted to do with the summer. We had far more things than we had summer. The entire month of July is booked. When we aren't going somewhere we're going to have to be recovering from having been somewhere. There are Seaworld trips, Schlitterbahn trips, several possible weekly activities (vacation bible school, a drama camp, a nature camp)…
We have striven to not be one of those families constantly on the go from soccer practice to piano lessons to little league to karate etc., but we tend to lose it during the summer. It seems like such a vast expanse of time, but it goes by pretty quick once you're in it. You've got about 12 weeks all told, and fitting stuff in is harder than one thinks.
Oh and there's that bit about moving closer in to the university. We haven't found the perfect house. We've found one that has definite possibilities, but its at the top of our range, which means it would be a while before we could make it more to our liking. Or we could just wait and see if we could find a less expensive place and then fix it up the way we want it. Then I start thinking of all the contractor horror stories we have heard over the years.
Finally, I worry about the implications for my time management project. Physical tasks are generally not a big problem. I can easily refocus despite interruptions. But when working on a mental project, like writing a letter, or an article, or filling out a form, I am easily distracted and have a hard time getting back into the frame of mind I need to do that job. I've seen it happening this week, as I've interrupted my days to run out and see some houses. It has been very hard to return and do what I need to do to meet my goals for the week and month.
Well, we'll just have to see what happens. My hope is that being aware of what I need to do and trying to do the Daytimer thing will help me stay focused, but I don't know if that will work.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Women's Clothing
Women's clothing is a trial for me. And I don't even wear the stuff. How you ladies manage to put up with what strike me as complete absurdities without strangling every designer who ever held a pencil is beyond me.
Take pockets. Despite forty years or so of women's lib, most designers of women's clothing apparently continue to assume that their customers are going to carry a handbag. Even in clothing that would otherwise appear to assume that handbags might not be practical. When wearing a nice suit, a man could have as many as eleven pockets, with a probable minimum of five. A woman in a business suit might have two. Maybe. And they will be small. A party dress would have none. I'm sure many pixels have been slain and quite a bit of ink spilled over the whys and hows of this, so I'll skip that part and move on.
One of the items Trish was interested in for Mother's Day was a…I think it is called a camisole. This is another thing about women's clothing, that similar things often have vitally important name distinctions. Men have shirts, for example. They may be dress shirts, undershirts, t-shirts, muscle shirts, what-have-you, but they are all shirts. Women have shirts, but they also have blouses, camisoles and God knows what else.
Anyway, she had indicated this camisole-thing, and noted the size she wanted, medium. So, a couple of weeks before the big day, I went to the website of the catalog and ordered it. It arrived in due fashion, and was presented with the appropriate ceremony. Trish was pleased, and later went to try it on.
It was too big. Rather a lot too big. As she put, we could have both worn the shirt--er, camisole, at the same time. She checked the size. Medium, just as she had requested. Very odd. She checked again, then she knew what had happened. I had been caught by euphemism.
Y'see (women may skip this paragraph) fellas, sometimes women's clothing comes in groupings. Even I had heard of "petite" and "plus-size". Well, when ordering the camisole-shirt, I had to choose not only the size, but the grouping to which it belonged. My options were "misses" and "women's". Women who are still reading this are nodding their heads sagely. To me, "misses" calls to mind images of braces and Junior High. I therefore chose "women's". It turns out that these things mean not quite what they might appear to mean to the ill-informed, namely, me. "Misses" in this case means essentially "regular". "Womens" means -- big.
Luckily for me Trish is not the sort to read Dark Implications into these sorts of errors.
Take pockets. Despite forty years or so of women's lib, most designers of women's clothing apparently continue to assume that their customers are going to carry a handbag. Even in clothing that would otherwise appear to assume that handbags might not be practical. When wearing a nice suit, a man could have as many as eleven pockets, with a probable minimum of five. A woman in a business suit might have two. Maybe. And they will be small. A party dress would have none. I'm sure many pixels have been slain and quite a bit of ink spilled over the whys and hows of this, so I'll skip that part and move on.
One of the items Trish was interested in for Mother's Day was a…I think it is called a camisole. This is another thing about women's clothing, that similar things often have vitally important name distinctions. Men have shirts, for example. They may be dress shirts, undershirts, t-shirts, muscle shirts, what-have-you, but they are all shirts. Women have shirts, but they also have blouses, camisoles and God knows what else.
Anyway, she had indicated this camisole-thing, and noted the size she wanted, medium. So, a couple of weeks before the big day, I went to the website of the catalog and ordered it. It arrived in due fashion, and was presented with the appropriate ceremony. Trish was pleased, and later went to try it on.
It was too big. Rather a lot too big. As she put, we could have both worn the shirt--er, camisole, at the same time. She checked the size. Medium, just as she had requested. Very odd. She checked again, then she knew what had happened. I had been caught by euphemism.
Y'see (women may skip this paragraph) fellas, sometimes women's clothing comes in groupings. Even I had heard of "petite" and "plus-size". Well, when ordering the camisole-shirt, I had to choose not only the size, but the grouping to which it belonged. My options were "misses" and "women's". Women who are still reading this are nodding their heads sagely. To me, "misses" calls to mind images of braces and Junior High. I therefore chose "women's". It turns out that these things mean not quite what they might appear to mean to the ill-informed, namely, me. "Misses" in this case means essentially "regular". "Womens" means -- big.
Luckily for me Trish is not the sort to read Dark Implications into these sorts of errors.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Slow Motion
This past weekend was one of those where time does this weird thing of moving with a peculiar langour. Its not as if there seemed to truly be more time, rather, it seemed that the time there was stretched out, pulled thin. As Bilbo Baggins once said of himself "like butter spread across too much bread."
The original plans for the weekend were pleasant enough, dinner with friends on Saturday and then of course celebrating Mother's Day. But Thursday morning I received a phone call from a relative I had not heard from in a long time. Five years, in fact. I knew it wasn't going to be good news and I was right. An uncle had passed away, and so I needed to go to the funeral in Houston.
Okay, I made the necessary phone calls, found my suit, fiddled around until I remembered how to tie my tie, and went to bed early Friday night. At 5AM I got up, dressed, and headed out. It's amazing the sort of time you can make on the roadways of cities early on a Saturday morning. Still, it took three hours to get there. I attended the services, had lunch with an aunt, and headed back. The return trip took around 4 hours, as traffic and construction had congested the byways of Houston in the meantime.
In my absence, Trish and Jacob were both sick. Nothing too bad, but a general feeling of tiredness, with fever, some coughing, etc. They spent the day pretty much moving slowly aside from a quick trip to the store for comfort food and frozen dinners. So, when I staggered in the door around 5pm, we were all pretty much in the same boat.
The next day, I got up, made a simple Mother's Day breakfast and went to teach Sunday School to the pre-K/K group. I managed it, came home, and then realized that I now had what Trish and Jake were beginning to get over. I laid down on the bed for about 2 1/2 hours, then spent the rest of the day moving slowly, counting the hours until dinner and bedtime.
Jake was clearly feeling much better as the day wore on, which only contributed to my feeling of being stuck in cold molasses. Trish chose to take a mulligan on the day, and we declared that Mother's Day would be celebrated in full the following Saturday.
Yesterday, everyone seemed to have recovered more or less fully. Time resumed its normal march.
The original plans for the weekend were pleasant enough, dinner with friends on Saturday and then of course celebrating Mother's Day. But Thursday morning I received a phone call from a relative I had not heard from in a long time. Five years, in fact. I knew it wasn't going to be good news and I was right. An uncle had passed away, and so I needed to go to the funeral in Houston.
Okay, I made the necessary phone calls, found my suit, fiddled around until I remembered how to tie my tie, and went to bed early Friday night. At 5AM I got up, dressed, and headed out. It's amazing the sort of time you can make on the roadways of cities early on a Saturday morning. Still, it took three hours to get there. I attended the services, had lunch with an aunt, and headed back. The return trip took around 4 hours, as traffic and construction had congested the byways of Houston in the meantime.
In my absence, Trish and Jacob were both sick. Nothing too bad, but a general feeling of tiredness, with fever, some coughing, etc. They spent the day pretty much moving slowly aside from a quick trip to the store for comfort food and frozen dinners. So, when I staggered in the door around 5pm, we were all pretty much in the same boat.
The next day, I got up, made a simple Mother's Day breakfast and went to teach Sunday School to the pre-K/K group. I managed it, came home, and then realized that I now had what Trish and Jake were beginning to get over. I laid down on the bed for about 2 1/2 hours, then spent the rest of the day moving slowly, counting the hours until dinner and bedtime.
Jake was clearly feeling much better as the day wore on, which only contributed to my feeling of being stuck in cold molasses. Trish chose to take a mulligan on the day, and we declared that Mother's Day would be celebrated in full the following Saturday.
Yesterday, everyone seemed to have recovered more or less fully. Time resumed its normal march.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Home Shuffle
We're planning to move. Not real far, in terms of distance, but considerably in terms of time. Trish's commute can take anywhere from 30 minutes (way off peak time, i.e., when she doesn't go very often) to an hour, worse in bad weather or if there has been an accident. I'm well aware that some people would kill for that commute, but it’s the sort of thing that gets to her and me after a while. So we'd like to get in closer to her place of work.
We are picky people when it comes to houses. I'm the pickier one, but if a house passes my muster its almost certain to pass hers, so it makes for an efficient division of labor for me to make a first pass at house-looking and then bring her in.
The problem is that we are low on houses to choose from. We had a list of eight when I took Trish around (culled from even longer lists we had started from), and some of those eight I doubted very much were worth the candle, but I know my biases and so left them on the list. Two went under contract before we could even get to them. Of the rest, only two more were really worthy of further thought, and those were not without serious issues as well.
One was a quite lovely home, tastefully decorated, but very problematic in terms of its layout. The other house had more space and a better arrangement of rooms, but a much smaller yard and lots of signs of water damage. The water issues may or may not be properly taken care of . The house was a foreclosure and the bank is going to fix it up before sale, but will it go far enough in dealing with the problems?
Then we have the matter of timing. We want to move out of our current house before putting it on the market. It needs some cosmetic repairs, and it would just be much, much easier to do what needs doing with us and the dogs and the cats mucking about. But we're about to hit the slow season for home selling. If we don't get going by early June, it might sit on the market for months. On the other hand, mortgage rates are still pretty low. Will they be this low next year, or six months from now? Would it be worth it to pay two mortgages for 6-8 months in order to get a good rate now (a point might mean tens of thousands of dollars over the lifetime of a 30-year note). But we have to live in this house. Is "good enough" now going to be good ten years from now? Argh.
We are picky people when it comes to houses. I'm the pickier one, but if a house passes my muster its almost certain to pass hers, so it makes for an efficient division of labor for me to make a first pass at house-looking and then bring her in.
The problem is that we are low on houses to choose from. We had a list of eight when I took Trish around (culled from even longer lists we had started from), and some of those eight I doubted very much were worth the candle, but I know my biases and so left them on the list. Two went under contract before we could even get to them. Of the rest, only two more were really worthy of further thought, and those were not without serious issues as well.
One was a quite lovely home, tastefully decorated, but very problematic in terms of its layout. The other house had more space and a better arrangement of rooms, but a much smaller yard and lots of signs of water damage. The water issues may or may not be properly taken care of . The house was a foreclosure and the bank is going to fix it up before sale, but will it go far enough in dealing with the problems?
Then we have the matter of timing. We want to move out of our current house before putting it on the market. It needs some cosmetic repairs, and it would just be much, much easier to do what needs doing with us and the dogs and the cats mucking about. But we're about to hit the slow season for home selling. If we don't get going by early June, it might sit on the market for months. On the other hand, mortgage rates are still pretty low. Will they be this low next year, or six months from now? Would it be worth it to pay two mortgages for 6-8 months in order to get a good rate now (a point might mean tens of thousands of dollars over the lifetime of a 30-year note). But we have to live in this house. Is "good enough" now going to be good ten years from now? Argh.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Yard Man
I found out a week or so ago that our yard has something called "take-off". It apparently is some sort of fungus that attacks the root system. The best advice from the company that we use to take care of the yard was to spread out peat moss. Apparently peat moss is good for yards in any case. So I've been spreading this stuff out and watering it in. It isn't too hard but you have to wrestle these really big bags of the stuff around. I can only fit about 6 of them in the back of my Highlander, and six bags only cover about a section of my yard. I estimate I have 4 (out of 7) sections left to do, if I want to get the whole thing. Its not clear if the whole yard really needs it or not. I can't tell if the back yard has patches because of this fungus or because the dogs continue to beat the living you know what out of it every time they chase a squirrel.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Some Day, Some Way
As part of my quest to improve my time management skills, I've started keeping a journal of the stuff I do all day. Its not an exhaustive list, but I try to write down, across various blocks of time, what happened. It's both a tool for study and a spur to action. Seeing my activities written down sure seems to encourage me to get some more stuff on the list. Your mileage may vary. So far this week, I've not lacked things for doing, some of which require multiple hours.
One thing I've observed that applies to me is that after a certain point in the day, a bunch of small tasks is far more tiring (mentally, anyway) than a few larger ones. I've no idea why. Does it feel like more work to have done 6 things in an hour than one thing? Weird.
Another thing is that errands away from the house really eat up time ways you do not expect. The one checker has a long line of people paying with third-party checks from Botswana. You realize that in addition to milk you are in dire need of plastic bags--which are halfway across the store. Or, worse yet, you're picking up pictures at the mall camera store and realize you need dog food, or to return movies, or something else that require another stop. Next thing you know, you've been away an hour for something you thought would take 15 minutes. Yowza.
One thing I've observed that applies to me is that after a certain point in the day, a bunch of small tasks is far more tiring (mentally, anyway) than a few larger ones. I've no idea why. Does it feel like more work to have done 6 things in an hour than one thing? Weird.
Another thing is that errands away from the house really eat up time ways you do not expect. The one checker has a long line of people paying with third-party checks from Botswana. You realize that in addition to milk you are in dire need of plastic bags--which are halfway across the store. Or, worse yet, you're picking up pictures at the mall camera store and realize you need dog food, or to return movies, or something else that require another stop. Next thing you know, you've been away an hour for something you thought would take 15 minutes. Yowza.
Monday, April 25, 2005
If I Could Catch Time In a Bottle
I find it ironic that ditching my desk job has actually made my day more complex. For the longest time (almost a year now?) I didn't realize that. When I worked away from home, I was generally in one of two modes: long-term and short-term. And my day was very basic. Get in, get settled, and work on my main, long-term project. Sometimes the phone would ring and I would need to drop everything and fight some fire. Then, when all we had was some wisps of smoke, I would return to the long-term project. And that was how I worked best, doing one thing until it was done, then moving on. You don't need a Daytimer when your life works like that.
For the most part, being a SAHD isn't like that. Sure, there are times when you spend the whole day sodding the yard or what have you, but most of the time your tasks (well, my tasks, anyway) are done in these little chunks. Get the laundry going. Pay the bills. Make a phone call. Run some errand.
Big deal, you say. These are just small long-term projects. Do them in order. Well. Here's the rub. Have you ever noticed how dogs will often make several little circles before lying down? I do that before getting to work. It can take minutes or hours or days (depending on how complex and/or unpleasant the task might be). Not much of an issue if you can then sit down and plug away for hours or days at a time. But when doing myriads of small tasks? Oy. Prepping (or, more correctly, psyching yourself up for) a day to do something that might require twenty minutes is generally not efficient.
For the most part, being a SAHD isn't like that. Sure, there are times when you spend the whole day sodding the yard or what have you, but most of the time your tasks (well, my tasks, anyway) are done in these little chunks. Get the laundry going. Pay the bills. Make a phone call. Run some errand.
Big deal, you say. These are just small long-term projects. Do them in order. Well. Here's the rub. Have you ever noticed how dogs will often make several little circles before lying down? I do that before getting to work. It can take minutes or hours or days (depending on how complex and/or unpleasant the task might be). Not much of an issue if you can then sit down and plug away for hours or days at a time. But when doing myriads of small tasks? Oy. Prepping (or, more correctly, psyching yourself up for) a day to do something that might require twenty minutes is generally not efficient.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Time Will Come Today
Springboarding from what I wrote the other day, I think some posts on the issue of time management are in order. Not all in a row, but over the coming weeks.
I have written before (many times before) on the issue of time and how, as a stay at home parent, you suddenly have a lot more of it to accomplish things that you had before (even if it isn't as much as you think). There's a trap there, though, and you have to be aware of it. It’s a classic one, the most basic form of procrastination. The idea you have is that with so much time, there's no hurry to get anything done beyond the most pressing and routine. And then one day you wake up and realize that everything is due tomorrow.
Anyone who has been a student, especially a college student, has fallen into this sort of trap at least once. And its an easy one to fall into at home as well.
The first trick, as I see it, is not in choosing the perfect day planner or organizational method. Almost any system will work well enough if you can commit to getting things done. There are tricks to help you along, and I'll discuss things I have done and am trying out in days and weeks to come. But the most important is: To keep on doing stuff and not put it off.
I have written before (many times before) on the issue of time and how, as a stay at home parent, you suddenly have a lot more of it to accomplish things that you had before (even if it isn't as much as you think). There's a trap there, though, and you have to be aware of it. It’s a classic one, the most basic form of procrastination. The idea you have is that with so much time, there's no hurry to get anything done beyond the most pressing and routine. And then one day you wake up and realize that everything is due tomorrow.
Anyone who has been a student, especially a college student, has fallen into this sort of trap at least once. And its an easy one to fall into at home as well.
The first trick, as I see it, is not in choosing the perfect day planner or organizational method. Almost any system will work well enough if you can commit to getting things done. There are tricks to help you along, and I'll discuss things I have done and am trying out in days and weeks to come. But the most important is: To keep on doing stuff and not put it off.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Things Your Mom Could Have Told You, Part MMIXVII
Okay, I hope everyone enjoyed my posts on the movie biz. Now, lets take a peek back at Domesticus life…
This is one of those things a stay at home mom probably could have told me twenty years ago if I had thought to ask her.
For reasons we needn't go into detail over (I screwed up. More than once.) I had a realization. When you work outside the home, home is generally a haven. If you screw up at work, unless it's bad enough that you might get fired, you don't have to take that with you. You can spin the chewing out from your boss all the way from not even mentioning it to fully acknowledging it was all your fault and you deserved what you got. And unless you were truly awful to someone, your spouse is likely to commiserate on the unpleasant circumstances, and try to buck you up.
On the other hand, if you work at home, and blow it on something that matters to the family, you don't have anywhere to run. And your spouse is stuck in the uncomfortable position of having to give you the business. Its not fun for anyone, and knowing you deserve it doesn't make things any easier (Been there, done that).
How one deals with it and tries to prevent it (short of never, ever screwing up, a tall order) depends on your circumstances. In my case it means better organization and less procrastinating. Even if this has not happened to you yet, I suggest a look around and a taking of stock. Figure out what is tripping you up and deal with it appropriately. We can't avoid all mistakes. But we can avoid making a habit of it.
This is one of those things a stay at home mom probably could have told me twenty years ago if I had thought to ask her.
For reasons we needn't go into detail over (I screwed up. More than once.) I had a realization. When you work outside the home, home is generally a haven. If you screw up at work, unless it's bad enough that you might get fired, you don't have to take that with you. You can spin the chewing out from your boss all the way from not even mentioning it to fully acknowledging it was all your fault and you deserved what you got. And unless you were truly awful to someone, your spouse is likely to commiserate on the unpleasant circumstances, and try to buck you up.
On the other hand, if you work at home, and blow it on something that matters to the family, you don't have anywhere to run. And your spouse is stuck in the uncomfortable position of having to give you the business. Its not fun for anyone, and knowing you deserve it doesn't make things any easier (Been there, done that).
How one deals with it and tries to prevent it (short of never, ever screwing up, a tall order) depends on your circumstances. In my case it means better organization and less procrastinating. Even if this has not happened to you yet, I suggest a look around and a taking of stock. Figure out what is tripping you up and deal with it appropriately. We can't avoid all mistakes. But we can avoid making a habit of it.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
So You Wanna Be In The Movies -- Part 6 and last (I think)
The film-makers had a problem looming over them. We had done a bunch of shots in gloomy, cloud-covered light on Monday, but since then things had been sunny. Wednesday was also predicted to be sunny and clear, so the next step was obvious.
We had to come in earlier. As it happened, only a half-hour earlier, but in addition, I expected that things would move very fast as the crew scrambled to get in as many shots as possible before the sun came up fully and the morning clouds cleared away. I was right. Call time was 6:00AM, and by 6:40AM we were on the set, watching people hurriedly get set up.
By 7:30AM, I had gotten something to do. They needed more shots of "Sara's" pickup coming into the plant, so I and two other guys were sent up 3-4 floors to provide background as it entered and drove by. It made for good exercise, as I had to climb up and down steps in heavy work boots.
This sort of thing went on for the next 90 minutes. We would be moved from one part of the plant to another, given our marching orders, and they would get in a few shots. Most of the time I couldn't see what the main action was, but I did see the end.
We all watched as the last wisps of cloud began to clear the sun. Sara was down on the pavement with the fellow from Monday (whose name I never caught), apparently finishing whatever discussion had been interrupted by the clearing sky. The crew had fashioned massive shades of stretchy black cloth and light tubes that might have been aluminum in an effort to minimize the growing glare. I think they got the shot, but when the clouds finally vanished that was it for that scene. We got the "take five" and headed for the snack truck. It was 8:51AM.
From here on in, the action took place up high on the generator towers. Remember, when I say tower, I don't mean some slender, relatively clean thing like a lighthouse. These were somewhat squat, with stuff hanging all over them, with grilled flooring, and cat walks at various levels between the towers. Equipment, pipes, and tanks stuck out at odd angles, and sometimes got in the way. It was there the camera, sound and lighting people moved and began to set up.
I'm sure that a life in pictures eventually innoculates you to working all manner of strange environments, but watching those folks hanging lights and other heavy gear all over those tight spaces up high impressed me. And from 11:00AM onward, all the action was up there on the platforms, roughly six stories up. I watched Gellar dash across the catwalk between towers several times. Let me tell you, if you anything like a normal fear of heights (you know, the sort of fear that might keep you from jumping out of a perfectly good airplane for "fun" or keeps you away from steep drops because, you know, falling would be bad) dashing across one of those things was no picnic. The wind was blowing pretty hard up there too, which I doubt was fun for a small person like her. Once she almost lost her hardhat in a gust and they had to restart the take.
At noon we broke for lunch, and as I munched on a delicious piece of pork roast with grilled summer squash and a brownie for dessert, I reflected that I damn glad it wasn't me up there playing one of the Flying Wallendas, perhaps complete with the tragic fall.
***
So it was that at 1:55PM, I found myself at almost the very top of the power plant, and my action was to climb up a flight of steps in order to reach the actual tip top of the plant. I tell you, I was Not Enjoying this aspect of acting. I could see across to the other tower where the action was taking place, and what I could see was not much. In all honesty, I'm not sure the reason I didn't see much is because much of the action was taking place behind masses of piping or because I was mostly looking down to make sure my feet did not somehow inadvertently head off into empty space
This was the first time I had spent much time in close proximity to this particular PA, whom I mentally referred to as "the boy PA" because of his baby-faced features. Up until now, I'd had pretty negative opinion of the fellow, since he was the one who seemed to spend most of his time chivvying us extras into out-of-the-way corners where we couldn't see anything.
But now, up close, I had to say the fellow was nothing if not solicitous. He asked if we were okay, not too tired, if we needed water, etc, until they finally had enough shots and we could come down. It was a major relief. Of course, I left my windbreaker up there and had to go all the way back up to retrieve it. After that, a nice long drink of Big Red from the snack truck was what I needed to settle my height-jangled nerves. Fortunately, at 3PM, I was done with the high-wire act.
Shooting continued, but much of the crew activity at this point consisted of packing away gear. It's possible I could have seen this on the other two days, but all but one of us had never returned to the set after lunch for any extended period of time. I only had one more interesting set of shots.
About 2-3 floors up, a group of us gathered. The camera was to watch someone working down below, who was to stare at Sarah "significantly" as she climbed up some steps. I was to mime talking to another extra, and then we were to walk over a catwalk to the other tower. First, her stand in did some climbing while they got the lighting right, and they she came over and we did some takes. I think she'd ditched the hard hat for these. When we were done the director called out "Okay we are goodbye to Sarah for the day and we are goodbye to the power plant." Many cheers all around.
And that was that. We got in the van to return to the base camp, got our pay vouchers signed, turned in our costumes and props, and we all went home.
Thanks everyone for reading this, I hope you found it entertaining and perhaps even educational. I'll try and do a bit more of the actual Stay-At-Home Dad thing for a while. Not to mention try to get back to my regular posting schedule.
We had to come in earlier. As it happened, only a half-hour earlier, but in addition, I expected that things would move very fast as the crew scrambled to get in as many shots as possible before the sun came up fully and the morning clouds cleared away. I was right. Call time was 6:00AM, and by 6:40AM we were on the set, watching people hurriedly get set up.
By 7:30AM, I had gotten something to do. They needed more shots of "Sara's" pickup coming into the plant, so I and two other guys were sent up 3-4 floors to provide background as it entered and drove by. It made for good exercise, as I had to climb up and down steps in heavy work boots.
This sort of thing went on for the next 90 minutes. We would be moved from one part of the plant to another, given our marching orders, and they would get in a few shots. Most of the time I couldn't see what the main action was, but I did see the end.
We all watched as the last wisps of cloud began to clear the sun. Sara was down on the pavement with the fellow from Monday (whose name I never caught), apparently finishing whatever discussion had been interrupted by the clearing sky. The crew had fashioned massive shades of stretchy black cloth and light tubes that might have been aluminum in an effort to minimize the growing glare. I think they got the shot, but when the clouds finally vanished that was it for that scene. We got the "take five" and headed for the snack truck. It was 8:51AM.
From here on in, the action took place up high on the generator towers. Remember, when I say tower, I don't mean some slender, relatively clean thing like a lighthouse. These were somewhat squat, with stuff hanging all over them, with grilled flooring, and cat walks at various levels between the towers. Equipment, pipes, and tanks stuck out at odd angles, and sometimes got in the way. It was there the camera, sound and lighting people moved and began to set up.
I'm sure that a life in pictures eventually innoculates you to working all manner of strange environments, but watching those folks hanging lights and other heavy gear all over those tight spaces up high impressed me. And from 11:00AM onward, all the action was up there on the platforms, roughly six stories up. I watched Gellar dash across the catwalk between towers several times. Let me tell you, if you anything like a normal fear of heights (you know, the sort of fear that might keep you from jumping out of a perfectly good airplane for "fun" or keeps you away from steep drops because, you know, falling would be bad) dashing across one of those things was no picnic. The wind was blowing pretty hard up there too, which I doubt was fun for a small person like her. Once she almost lost her hardhat in a gust and they had to restart the take.
At noon we broke for lunch, and as I munched on a delicious piece of pork roast with grilled summer squash and a brownie for dessert, I reflected that I damn glad it wasn't me up there playing one of the Flying Wallendas, perhaps complete with the tragic fall.
***
So it was that at 1:55PM, I found myself at almost the very top of the power plant, and my action was to climb up a flight of steps in order to reach the actual tip top of the plant. I tell you, I was Not Enjoying this aspect of acting. I could see across to the other tower where the action was taking place, and what I could see was not much. In all honesty, I'm not sure the reason I didn't see much is because much of the action was taking place behind masses of piping or because I was mostly looking down to make sure my feet did not somehow inadvertently head off into empty space
This was the first time I had spent much time in close proximity to this particular PA, whom I mentally referred to as "the boy PA" because of his baby-faced features. Up until now, I'd had pretty negative opinion of the fellow, since he was the one who seemed to spend most of his time chivvying us extras into out-of-the-way corners where we couldn't see anything.
But now, up close, I had to say the fellow was nothing if not solicitous. He asked if we were okay, not too tired, if we needed water, etc, until they finally had enough shots and we could come down. It was a major relief. Of course, I left my windbreaker up there and had to go all the way back up to retrieve it. After that, a nice long drink of Big Red from the snack truck was what I needed to settle my height-jangled nerves. Fortunately, at 3PM, I was done with the high-wire act.
Shooting continued, but much of the crew activity at this point consisted of packing away gear. It's possible I could have seen this on the other two days, but all but one of us had never returned to the set after lunch for any extended period of time. I only had one more interesting set of shots.
About 2-3 floors up, a group of us gathered. The camera was to watch someone working down below, who was to stare at Sarah "significantly" as she climbed up some steps. I was to mime talking to another extra, and then we were to walk over a catwalk to the other tower. First, her stand in did some climbing while they got the lighting right, and they she came over and we did some takes. I think she'd ditched the hard hat for these. When we were done the director called out "Okay we are goodbye to Sarah for the day and we are goodbye to the power plant." Many cheers all around.
And that was that. We got in the van to return to the base camp, got our pay vouchers signed, turned in our costumes and props, and we all went home.
Thanks everyone for reading this, I hope you found it entertaining and perhaps even educational. I'll try and do a bit more of the actual Stay-At-Home Dad thing for a while. Not to mention try to get back to my regular posting schedule.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
So You Wanna Be In The Movies -- Part 5
Sorry for the delay in posting. I've been having a complicated week. Nothing bad, really, but complicated and its kept me doing other things.
***
One thing people who've done the extra thing a few times like to do is talk about the stars they've seen. In short, gossip. Many, many stars came in for criticism of their high-handed ways. They drank a lot, threw tantrums, insisted on certain fussy details, and treated underlings badly. It was a veritable cornucopia of poor behavior. I'm not going to name any names of the folks caught behaving badly. I wasn't there, and even though (in some cases) multiple witnesses vouched for the story, its just doesn't seem right for me to be telling tales.
There were a few who got good reviews, and I don't feel like I have to avoid mentioning their names. Billy Bob Thornton would hang around on the set and mingle. Al Pacino once got up to get a drink and asked if anyone else wanted some. One brave extra said he would. Pacino got him the coke. Brian Van Holt, despite being covered in some gruesome makeup that had to be uncomfortable, joked with extras and happily posed for pictures.
The stories about the folks who were not so nice varied from the ridiculous to the disgusting. While I can understand wanting some privacy and not desiring to be mobbed while trying to work, I really wonder how some of these folks develop these odd tics. Too much…what? I dunno.
***
Tuesday (with one slight exception) proved to be my most frustrating day on the set. Fortunately, I was prepared with a paperback copy of Harry Harrison's "The Stainless Steel Rat For President".
Things started well enough. We were on the set by 7:30AM, inside part of the power plant. The inside was much like the outside, pipes and heavy equipment everywhere, metal gratings as walkways in some areas. But with no access to the sky whatsoever, it managed to be considerably more claustrophobic.
The PA's scattered us about, and in some cases gave us instructions on how to move. I and another woman are stuck 30 yards away from the main action, but we do get to walk towards it. In fact we are supposed to walk and walk until we turn off to the side just before Gellar and several people dressed in suits pass by. Word is she is trying to sell this plant to the guys in the suits. She's dressed the same as the day before (apparently, all the events in our three days of shooting occur on the same movie day) with the addition of a hardhat.
We tried the scene a few times and frankly, it was a pain. My partner and I had to start our movies based on the motion of the camera, which was hard to see from where we were. So we didn't always make our move at the same time, which is a problem. Apparently, the director agreed with me on this one, because we were eventually just moved off to the side where we could only watch. At this point, the head PA told us to go over to the canteen truck and grab a snack.
I'd never been to the canteen truck, and had no idea what it was. I admit that when I saw it, I was impressed in spite of myself. It was a large van, something like a UPS truck, only a bit smaller. The inside was full of shelves, and the shelves were full of goodies.
Bags of chips, Ruffles, Lays, Fritos. Cheese crackers, Oreos, bagels, doughnuts, sandwich fixings, chocolate bars, Snickers, multiple kinds of gum…a snack food smorgasbord. Outside were ice chests full of soft drinks, bottled water, and PowerAde. "Wow," said my partern, and I could only nod in mute agreement.
I grabbed several items, some for immediate consumption, but others for later, since there was no way of knowing when we'd get another shot at food.
We returned to our spot of waiting. Then we were moved again, and again, for no reason I can readily discern, other than we to place us farther and farther away from things. We finally end up in an out-of the-way corner, a bit damp and a bit chilly. I was glad I had brought along my windbreaker. I made it into a pillow, lay down and proceeded to read.
As the morning wore on, more and more extras began to collect in our dank little corner, and I continued to read my book. I think a transcription of my notes for the remainder of the day will tell the tale:
9:45AM apply band-aid blister protection to right heel.
12:00PM finish book, still waiting
12:45PM lunch. Excellent chicken-fried steak, mashed potato, corn, roasted acorn squash.
Ice cream for dessert.
4:00PM one guy is called to the set
5:50PM we are released
And that was it. We had one more day of shooting, and it would prove to be the best and worst day of all.
***
One thing people who've done the extra thing a few times like to do is talk about the stars they've seen. In short, gossip. Many, many stars came in for criticism of their high-handed ways. They drank a lot, threw tantrums, insisted on certain fussy details, and treated underlings badly. It was a veritable cornucopia of poor behavior. I'm not going to name any names of the folks caught behaving badly. I wasn't there, and even though (in some cases) multiple witnesses vouched for the story, its just doesn't seem right for me to be telling tales.
There were a few who got good reviews, and I don't feel like I have to avoid mentioning their names. Billy Bob Thornton would hang around on the set and mingle. Al Pacino once got up to get a drink and asked if anyone else wanted some. One brave extra said he would. Pacino got him the coke. Brian Van Holt, despite being covered in some gruesome makeup that had to be uncomfortable, joked with extras and happily posed for pictures.
The stories about the folks who were not so nice varied from the ridiculous to the disgusting. While I can understand wanting some privacy and not desiring to be mobbed while trying to work, I really wonder how some of these folks develop these odd tics. Too much…what? I dunno.
***
Tuesday (with one slight exception) proved to be my most frustrating day on the set. Fortunately, I was prepared with a paperback copy of Harry Harrison's "The Stainless Steel Rat For President".
Things started well enough. We were on the set by 7:30AM, inside part of the power plant. The inside was much like the outside, pipes and heavy equipment everywhere, metal gratings as walkways in some areas. But with no access to the sky whatsoever, it managed to be considerably more claustrophobic.
The PA's scattered us about, and in some cases gave us instructions on how to move. I and another woman are stuck 30 yards away from the main action, but we do get to walk towards it. In fact we are supposed to walk and walk until we turn off to the side just before Gellar and several people dressed in suits pass by. Word is she is trying to sell this plant to the guys in the suits. She's dressed the same as the day before (apparently, all the events in our three days of shooting occur on the same movie day) with the addition of a hardhat.
We tried the scene a few times and frankly, it was a pain. My partner and I had to start our movies based on the motion of the camera, which was hard to see from where we were. So we didn't always make our move at the same time, which is a problem. Apparently, the director agreed with me on this one, because we were eventually just moved off to the side where we could only watch. At this point, the head PA told us to go over to the canteen truck and grab a snack.
I'd never been to the canteen truck, and had no idea what it was. I admit that when I saw it, I was impressed in spite of myself. It was a large van, something like a UPS truck, only a bit smaller. The inside was full of shelves, and the shelves were full of goodies.
Bags of chips, Ruffles, Lays, Fritos. Cheese crackers, Oreos, bagels, doughnuts, sandwich fixings, chocolate bars, Snickers, multiple kinds of gum…a snack food smorgasbord. Outside were ice chests full of soft drinks, bottled water, and PowerAde. "Wow," said my partern, and I could only nod in mute agreement.
I grabbed several items, some for immediate consumption, but others for later, since there was no way of knowing when we'd get another shot at food.
We returned to our spot of waiting. Then we were moved again, and again, for no reason I can readily discern, other than we to place us farther and farther away from things. We finally end up in an out-of the-way corner, a bit damp and a bit chilly. I was glad I had brought along my windbreaker. I made it into a pillow, lay down and proceeded to read.
As the morning wore on, more and more extras began to collect in our dank little corner, and I continued to read my book. I think a transcription of my notes for the remainder of the day will tell the tale:
9:45AM apply band-aid blister protection to right heel.
12:00PM finish book, still waiting
12:45PM lunch. Excellent chicken-fried steak, mashed potato, corn, roasted acorn squash.
Ice cream for dessert.
4:00PM one guy is called to the set
5:50PM we are released
And that was it. We had one more day of shooting, and it would prove to be the best and worst day of all.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
So You Wanna Be In The Movies -- Part 4
A quick shout-out to the folks at the SMG forums, who I've seen in my hit lists (though for some odd reason I can't seem to find the post directing you to my little corner of the web). I can confirm fully the Ms. Gellar had her hair a dark brown, relativley long, and straight. She wore jeans, a jean jacket, and what seemed to me to be some sort of light sweatery thing. Okay, on with the story:
I left out the catering crew in my initial list of production people. Technically, you don't need them, since a PA could simply call for pizza, and come back from HEB with a sackful of chips and cookies to snack on, but a good catering crew can make a major difference in a crew's outlook on life.
The people we have are very good. I've eaten their stuff before, when doing extra work on "Man of the House". The setup here is much the same as before. For breakfast, they lay out an amazing pile of goodies: eggs, bacon, two kinds of sausage, toast, biscuits, gravy, spicy potatoes, and tortillas. This is just the stuff they cooked. Also out are all manner of doughnuts, pastries, yogurt, fruit, cereal boxes, juices, whole, low-fat and non-fat milk. And coffee. I've probably left something out. In addition, they cheerfully accepted a number of special orders like omelets, breakfast tacos, and the like. I managed to restrain myself until the final day, when I asked for some sausage egg, and cheese tacos.
Lunch on each day consisted of a choice of three entrees, plus vegetables in various styles (potatoes mashed or grilled, grilled sliced summer squash, sweet potatoes, and more). And there were three kinds of salad, bread, assorted desserts, ice cream, tea, lemonade, milk…You might say we ate well. I had grilled amberjack, a truly amazing chicken-fried steak, and pork pot roast as my entrees on my three days of working, with assorted veggies to go with.
The smaller the production, the more random the eating arrangements are likely to be. I've only worked "major" productions -- no independents -- and the food on all of them was generally good. But I did hear stories of fourteen-hour shoots with nothing but a light breakfast. So it ain't all gravy.
***
After lunch, the crew returned to the power plant, but we didn't. What we did was sit there and talk. I was impressed at the number of people who had done this before, several times. One fellow even did some video production work. In retrospect, it wasn't so odd that the people there were old hands. The movie folks only had the plant for three days, and we extras would be in close proximity to the star; they needed people who would hit their marks and not bug the talent.
A couple more extras showed up, including a fellow I'll call G. I missed where G was from originally, but if he wasn't from Texas he should have been, as the man was something out of central casting. I'd brought a book to read, but wound up instead listening to his stories. G had a lot of stories, and never seemed to cease talking for more than a minute or two at a time. In the vast majority of people this would have gotten old very fast, but G had a storyteller's gift. Some of my comrades thought he was making stuff up and perhaps he was, but I knew several of the stories were true and a couple of others had been on the same shoots as he had and were able to confirm some of the others as well.
I mention G in detail because from my point of view he was pretty much the highlight of the afternoon, aside from one curious incident.
At approximately 2:15 a PA showed up and said they needed one extra. Somehow I managed to get myself chosen. This was a risky move, since I didn't know what they wanted an extra for, but it seemed worth it to me. Anything for more camera time!
What I got was farce. I got off the van at the set and was taken in tow by a baby-faced PA (the same one who would later direct me at the top of the plant), who planted me in a spot and told me to wait a second. Then he moved me to another spot, then a third. None of these spots were remotely connected to a shot. Finally, after more consultations via his headset walkie-talkie setup, he said "They changed their minds, we won't be needing you after all." The van returned and I was back at the base camp area. Elapsed time: About 15 minutes.
That was the end of our day. We sat there at the base area and watched the catering crew clean up and get ready for their next day, talked, read books, and generally killed time until the boss PA appreared around 6pm and told us we could go home.
I left out the catering crew in my initial list of production people. Technically, you don't need them, since a PA could simply call for pizza, and come back from HEB with a sackful of chips and cookies to snack on, but a good catering crew can make a major difference in a crew's outlook on life.
The people we have are very good. I've eaten their stuff before, when doing extra work on "Man of the House". The setup here is much the same as before. For breakfast, they lay out an amazing pile of goodies: eggs, bacon, two kinds of sausage, toast, biscuits, gravy, spicy potatoes, and tortillas. This is just the stuff they cooked. Also out are all manner of doughnuts, pastries, yogurt, fruit, cereal boxes, juices, whole, low-fat and non-fat milk. And coffee. I've probably left something out. In addition, they cheerfully accepted a number of special orders like omelets, breakfast tacos, and the like. I managed to restrain myself until the final day, when I asked for some sausage egg, and cheese tacos.
Lunch on each day consisted of a choice of three entrees, plus vegetables in various styles (potatoes mashed or grilled, grilled sliced summer squash, sweet potatoes, and more). And there were three kinds of salad, bread, assorted desserts, ice cream, tea, lemonade, milk…You might say we ate well. I had grilled amberjack, a truly amazing chicken-fried steak, and pork pot roast as my entrees on my three days of working, with assorted veggies to go with.
The smaller the production, the more random the eating arrangements are likely to be. I've only worked "major" productions -- no independents -- and the food on all of them was generally good. But I did hear stories of fourteen-hour shoots with nothing but a light breakfast. So it ain't all gravy.
***
After lunch, the crew returned to the power plant, but we didn't. What we did was sit there and talk. I was impressed at the number of people who had done this before, several times. One fellow even did some video production work. In retrospect, it wasn't so odd that the people there were old hands. The movie folks only had the plant for three days, and we extras would be in close proximity to the star; they needed people who would hit their marks and not bug the talent.
A couple more extras showed up, including a fellow I'll call G. I missed where G was from originally, but if he wasn't from Texas he should have been, as the man was something out of central casting. I'd brought a book to read, but wound up instead listening to his stories. G had a lot of stories, and never seemed to cease talking for more than a minute or two at a time. In the vast majority of people this would have gotten old very fast, but G had a storyteller's gift. Some of my comrades thought he was making stuff up and perhaps he was, but I knew several of the stories were true and a couple of others had been on the same shoots as he had and were able to confirm some of the others as well.
I mention G in detail because from my point of view he was pretty much the highlight of the afternoon, aside from one curious incident.
At approximately 2:15 a PA showed up and said they needed one extra. Somehow I managed to get myself chosen. This was a risky move, since I didn't know what they wanted an extra for, but it seemed worth it to me. Anything for more camera time!
What I got was farce. I got off the van at the set and was taken in tow by a baby-faced PA (the same one who would later direct me at the top of the plant), who planted me in a spot and told me to wait a second. Then he moved me to another spot, then a third. None of these spots were remotely connected to a shot. Finally, after more consultations via his headset walkie-talkie setup, he said "They changed their minds, we won't be needing you after all." The van returned and I was back at the base camp area. Elapsed time: About 15 minutes.
That was the end of our day. We sat there at the base area and watched the catering crew clean up and get ready for their next day, talked, read books, and generally killed time until the boss PA appreared around 6pm and told us we could go home.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
So You Wanna be In the Movies -- Part 3
Personal note -- We're going to be on vacation for the next week, so no updates until the following Wednesday. Hang in there. -- Jim
***
The Austin Energy Holly Street Power Station resembles a giant erector set that was built in and around a mad scientist's chemistry lab, then dropped off by the Colorado River to rust in place. Pipes and tubing of all sizes snaked in all directions, serving perfectly inscrutable purposes around the large turbine stacks. Peculiar notes were scrawled on different bits in pencil and marker, messages like "Close A valve to open B valve", and "do not overpressure".
On this day, the station was standing in for some place called "Mid States Ethanol Processing Plant". A large tank had been repainted with the logo, which was also on all of our grey hardhats (the crew wore orange hardhats with the "Revolver" movie logo on them).
It doesn't seem all that big for a place that can generate 600Megawatts of electricity. Unless you're standing on top of it. Then it seems plenty big enough. At one point I and several other extras found ourselves near one of the plant workers, who gave us an earful about the place, and how it was slated to close down by 2008 because of complaints by the neighborhood.
It struck me that there was a great magazine article to be written about the plant's closing some day.
***
Of course, being on the set didn't actually mean we were going to do anything. Another thing few people know about making movies is the amount of waiting that goes on, especially for extras. Oh sure, some of the crew never seemed to stop the entire three days we were there, but there is still a lot of hurry up and wait in the movie business. I've been on shoots where a twelve-hour day had at most 2 minutes of actual filming, if that much.
On this day, however, we get to business fairly quickly. After some drizzle passes, our small group is set up in various spots and given props and marching orders. Some of us get tool belts and/or walkie-talkies. Everyone gets an id badge, labeled "Mid States Ethanol", with a picture of one of the production crew on it.
I'm in a group with two others. We are told to walk around a parked 18-wheeler, wait as another passes by us, then split up. I have to climb up some stairs and wander around the second floor. During all this, a pickup, ostensibly driven by Sarah Michelle Gellar's character drives by and parks. Gellar isn't doing the driving of course, its her stand-in.
We do this several times. Each time, we get a litany of yells from the director, passed along by the PA's. The first is always "picture's up". I don't know what that means technically, but for us it was basically "Get ready". Then, you get "rolling." Sometimes you can hear "speed" or "sound" but that generally doesn't get passed along. Finally, if we've made it that far (and sometimes things get aborted for various reasons), you get "background action" and "action".
The various "actions" could get messy. Depending on your location you might be going on "background", to give you a natural movement before the actors come in, but you might need to go at the same time they do, or you might need a completely different cue if the camera is moving and you come into view after action has begun. You might get cued directly by a PA, or just wait until something specific happens, like a vehicle goes by, or a character passes your location. Sometimes it was hard to hear cues, and you just had to guess.
Eventually, they have shots of the pickup driving up and its time for Sarah to exit the truck and walk over to talk to some guy. I'm pretty far away at first, and can only note that she is wearing jeans and her hair is a dark brown. Later, I'm amused by the fact that every single extra feels the need to comment on how small she is (Sarah is maybe 5'2" and quite petite. Small indeed, but you'd think she was a midget from the way they talked. I guess they expected Buffy to be more like a WNBA player).
We have no scripts (of course) so we can only infer what is going on. Sarah's character has some sort of argument with some guy. It's during this that the clouds, which have been with us all morning, begin to break up and we find ourselves with a dazzlingly sunny (if breezy) day. This is a problem, because all the shots so far are of a gloomy, cloudy day. The light is now wrong and the directors have to regroup. We break for lunch.
***
The Austin Energy Holly Street Power Station resembles a giant erector set that was built in and around a mad scientist's chemistry lab, then dropped off by the Colorado River to rust in place. Pipes and tubing of all sizes snaked in all directions, serving perfectly inscrutable purposes around the large turbine stacks. Peculiar notes were scrawled on different bits in pencil and marker, messages like "Close A valve to open B valve", and "do not overpressure".
On this day, the station was standing in for some place called "Mid States Ethanol Processing Plant". A large tank had been repainted with the logo, which was also on all of our grey hardhats (the crew wore orange hardhats with the "Revolver" movie logo on them).
It doesn't seem all that big for a place that can generate 600Megawatts of electricity. Unless you're standing on top of it. Then it seems plenty big enough. At one point I and several other extras found ourselves near one of the plant workers, who gave us an earful about the place, and how it was slated to close down by 2008 because of complaints by the neighborhood.
It struck me that there was a great magazine article to be written about the plant's closing some day.
***
Of course, being on the set didn't actually mean we were going to do anything. Another thing few people know about making movies is the amount of waiting that goes on, especially for extras. Oh sure, some of the crew never seemed to stop the entire three days we were there, but there is still a lot of hurry up and wait in the movie business. I've been on shoots where a twelve-hour day had at most 2 minutes of actual filming, if that much.
On this day, however, we get to business fairly quickly. After some drizzle passes, our small group is set up in various spots and given props and marching orders. Some of us get tool belts and/or walkie-talkies. Everyone gets an id badge, labeled "Mid States Ethanol", with a picture of one of the production crew on it.
I'm in a group with two others. We are told to walk around a parked 18-wheeler, wait as another passes by us, then split up. I have to climb up some stairs and wander around the second floor. During all this, a pickup, ostensibly driven by Sarah Michelle Gellar's character drives by and parks. Gellar isn't doing the driving of course, its her stand-in.
We do this several times. Each time, we get a litany of yells from the director, passed along by the PA's. The first is always "picture's up". I don't know what that means technically, but for us it was basically "Get ready". Then, you get "rolling." Sometimes you can hear "speed" or "sound" but that generally doesn't get passed along. Finally, if we've made it that far (and sometimes things get aborted for various reasons), you get "background action" and "action".
The various "actions" could get messy. Depending on your location you might be going on "background", to give you a natural movement before the actors come in, but you might need to go at the same time they do, or you might need a completely different cue if the camera is moving and you come into view after action has begun. You might get cued directly by a PA, or just wait until something specific happens, like a vehicle goes by, or a character passes your location. Sometimes it was hard to hear cues, and you just had to guess.
Eventually, they have shots of the pickup driving up and its time for Sarah to exit the truck and walk over to talk to some guy. I'm pretty far away at first, and can only note that she is wearing jeans and her hair is a dark brown. Later, I'm amused by the fact that every single extra feels the need to comment on how small she is (Sarah is maybe 5'2" and quite petite. Small indeed, but you'd think she was a midget from the way they talked. I guess they expected Buffy to be more like a WNBA player).
We have no scripts (of course) so we can only infer what is going on. Sarah's character has some sort of argument with some guy. It's during this that the clouds, which have been with us all morning, begin to break up and we find ourselves with a dazzlingly sunny (if breezy) day. This is a problem, because all the shots so far are of a gloomy, cloudy day. The light is now wrong and the directors have to regroup. We break for lunch.
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