What the hell is going on? Checked in on my wee blog this morning to find that the insidious blank video link had once again attached itself to the blog entry formerly known as Reflections on a Holiday in my Favourite City. I have therefore deleted the whole entry once again.
Quick entertainment review: On the weekend I saw The King's Speech, starring the marvelous and thoroughly lovely Colin Firth, the rumpled and roguish Geoffrey Rush, and the sublime Helena Bonham-Carter. An interesting episode in history involving the infamous abdication of King Edward (who chose the love of American divorcee Wallace Simpson over the throne), leaving his brother Albert (fondly known as Bertie, but formally referred to as George VI) to wear the crown. Saddled with a crippling stammer, Bertie, thanks partly to his intrepid wife, starts working with an Australian speech therapist called Lionel Logue. It's a classic tale of overcoming adversity which made me laugh and cry and applaud loudly. Beautifully written and performed, it's an absolute delight. Go see it!
I've also been watching new episodes of Misfits, an anarchic UK show that turns the superhero genre on its ear. The show follows the exploits of a bunch of young offenders on community service duties who, in a freak storm, suddenly acquire supernatural abilities. Do they go about saving the world? Nope. But they look after each other, and despite their prickly differences (and, in most cases, lack of social graces), form bonds as they try to hide their powers and half-heartedly perform their community service duties. They have foul mouths, behave badly, but are not totally irredeemable (and the regional Brit accents are marvellous). The show is inventive, sharply written, hilarious and thrilling. I'm told Season 1 is currently showing in Australia on ABC2. Season 2 has just started screening in the UK, but no sign of it in the US (Netflix hasn't heard of it, either) so I've been resorting to YouTube!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Getting Sporty with it
December is here and with it, winter— LA-style winter—which means mostly cloudless blue skies and mild temperatures during the day followed by freezing cold nights. Weeelll, freezing is perhaps overstating it: quite chilly, might be a more accurate description. We’re thin-blooded devils here on the West Coast. Pity the poor fools languishing in snow drifts on the East Coast.
Financially, I’m feeling the pinch of my Aussie Odyssey, on top of Thanksgiving holidays. However, I also feel rested and re-energised. And the good news is I’ll be at UCLA until at least the end of January. We break for two weeks over Christmas (sigh, more penny pinching required!) during which I plan to lay low and write. And if I’m lucky I might score a few days work here or there through the temp agency. If I’m really lucky, I’ll be cast in a commercial!
Almost as soon as I got off the plane, I was back in rehearsals for the Sport of Acting’s class project: the performance of four short plays, written by the talented Jeffrey Addiss, and directed by friends of Vinny (also industry pros). The plays were each very funny, with a dark edge, which made them all the more satisfying. It was great to see everyone involved working together. It was especially wonderful watching the members of the class who have less stage experience; they worked so hard and really grew as actors. To use Sport terminology, it just goes to show that no matter how many practice sessions you have, some lessons are learnt out on the field. Performing for an audience puts you on your toes and increases your “match fitness.” OK, enough with the metaphors. Putting on a show and performing for an audience is very familiar territory for me. I must confess I was not particularly challenged (or nervous) but that’s not to say I didn’t get anything out of it. I had the fun—and honour—of working with an exacting director who made me think about the script in different ways, and playing with two of my classmates, both of whom did wonderful work. Plus, I love performing. Gimme a stage, I’ll get on it.
Gotta love Thanksgiving. With no religious connections, it is an occasion in which everyone can participate. Indeed, it is all about inclusiveness and sharing. This year I was once again embraced by some American friends and fed lots of yummy food. Thank you Amber and Jamie for your generosity and friendship. With a belly full of turkey, pumpkin pie and roasted marshmallows, sloshing around in some excellent pinot noir, I eventually rolled home to bed.
I had a big commercial audition last week in which I was able to use my natural accent. It was in fact a requirement. How lovely! Authentic Aussie accents were required because this is a commercial (or, potentially, series of commercials = serious money) being made to screen exclusively in Australia. How ironic to go all the way to LA to have a shot at a big Australian commercial. Aside from the accent, I felt this one was right in my milieu; slightly quirky, girl-next-door, comedy and improv background. So I was excited about it, and felt that the audition went well. However, I haven’t heard anything, so must assume I’m not in consideration. This is a real bummer. It makes me question what I’m doing. People keep telling me I have talent, that I should persevere, but sometimes I think I must be lacking something. That extra something special. Star quality? Pop? Zing? Call it what you will. And I am tired of living like a pauper, being a charity case! I shouldn’t despair at one audition, but I don’t know how much longer I can push on this without a return. I promised myself two years in LA to see what happens, then reassess. The next 12 months will be interesting.
Financially, I’m feeling the pinch of my Aussie Odyssey, on top of Thanksgiving holidays. However, I also feel rested and re-energised. And the good news is I’ll be at UCLA until at least the end of January. We break for two weeks over Christmas (sigh, more penny pinching required!) during which I plan to lay low and write. And if I’m lucky I might score a few days work here or there through the temp agency. If I’m really lucky, I’ll be cast in a commercial!
Almost as soon as I got off the plane, I was back in rehearsals for the Sport of Acting’s class project: the performance of four short plays, written by the talented Jeffrey Addiss, and directed by friends of Vinny (also industry pros). The plays were each very funny, with a dark edge, which made them all the more satisfying. It was great to see everyone involved working together. It was especially wonderful watching the members of the class who have less stage experience; they worked so hard and really grew as actors. To use Sport terminology, it just goes to show that no matter how many practice sessions you have, some lessons are learnt out on the field. Performing for an audience puts you on your toes and increases your “match fitness.” OK, enough with the metaphors. Putting on a show and performing for an audience is very familiar territory for me. I must confess I was not particularly challenged (or nervous) but that’s not to say I didn’t get anything out of it. I had the fun—and honour—of working with an exacting director who made me think about the script in different ways, and playing with two of my classmates, both of whom did wonderful work. Plus, I love performing. Gimme a stage, I’ll get on it.
Gotta love Thanksgiving. With no religious connections, it is an occasion in which everyone can participate. Indeed, it is all about inclusiveness and sharing. This year I was once again embraced by some American friends and fed lots of yummy food. Thank you Amber and Jamie for your generosity and friendship. With a belly full of turkey, pumpkin pie and roasted marshmallows, sloshing around in some excellent pinot noir, I eventually rolled home to bed.
I had a big commercial audition last week in which I was able to use my natural accent. It was in fact a requirement. How lovely! Authentic Aussie accents were required because this is a commercial (or, potentially, series of commercials = serious money) being made to screen exclusively in Australia. How ironic to go all the way to LA to have a shot at a big Australian commercial. Aside from the accent, I felt this one was right in my milieu; slightly quirky, girl-next-door, comedy and improv background. So I was excited about it, and felt that the audition went well. However, I haven’t heard anything, so must assume I’m not in consideration. This is a real bummer. It makes me question what I’m doing. People keep telling me I have talent, that I should persevere, but sometimes I think I must be lacking something. That extra something special. Star quality? Pop? Zing? Call it what you will. And I am tired of living like a pauper, being a charity case! I shouldn’t despair at one audition, but I don’t know how much longer I can push on this without a return. I promised myself two years in LA to see what happens, then reassess. The next 12 months will be interesting.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Eating, drinking, and frocking
Melbourne rocks. After a chilly start last week, this week has been full of sunny gorgeousness. In fact, I'm wishing I had packed more summer clothes and a more practical, walk-around-town pair of sandals than the LA skyscrapers that I brought. Not that I haven't had occasion to trot them out, but they're not really for walking in. Today I found myself trying on a lovely pair of Filippo Raphael flat sandals in a favourite shoe store in Toorak Village. Oooh, I really want them... but it's craziness to buy shoes in Australia (this pair are a cool $250) when they are so cheap in the US. Italian brand, but they don't seem to be sold in the US. In fact, even in Australia they seem to be retailed exclusively through Edward Meller stores. Sigh.
There has been LOTS of catching up with friends over food and wine; damn, the food is good here. OK, generally it is cheaper to eat out in LA but frankly most of the time you get quantity over quality. It's so lovely to be on holiday in my favourite city. Aside from eating and drinking, talking and laughing, frocking up (main event frocking to happen tomorrow - the wedding!), I've been working out at my old gym (Nada and Dr Soph are two of the best Step instructors in the world, bloody awesome routines), getting thoroughly massaged, and have lined up a facial next week, the day before I get on the plane home. The idea of LA as my home is still a little alien (as am I, legally speaking); I guess I have two homes.
Last night I saw Electronic City, the new show by local theatre group Hoy Polloy. It was preview night, and I'm so glad I happened to be in town to catch it. Directed by Wayne Pearn (with assistance from Bridgette Burton), the show is in very good shape. It's a challenging piece for actors, with a lot of chorus work creating vocal soundscapes of frenetic, madness-inducing chatter, robotic instructions, alarms and electronic white noise. The effect is quite thrilling, even as it spins your head around and reminds you what you hate about travelling, and how paranoidly (is that a word?) reliant we are on electronic devices such as phones and computers, and the panic that can set in if we forget the charger, can't get online, or find ourselves in an interminable line at airport security. The show officially opens tonight. If you're in Melbourne, check it out.
Right, gotta dash. Another lunch date. Time to get out of this t-shirt and into a frock!
There has been LOTS of catching up with friends over food and wine; damn, the food is good here. OK, generally it is cheaper to eat out in LA but frankly most of the time you get quantity over quality. It's so lovely to be on holiday in my favourite city. Aside from eating and drinking, talking and laughing, frocking up (main event frocking to happen tomorrow - the wedding!), I've been working out at my old gym (Nada and Dr Soph are two of the best Step instructors in the world, bloody awesome routines), getting thoroughly massaged, and have lined up a facial next week, the day before I get on the plane home. The idea of LA as my home is still a little alien (as am I, legally speaking); I guess I have two homes.
Last night I saw Electronic City, the new show by local theatre group Hoy Polloy. It was preview night, and I'm so glad I happened to be in town to catch it. Directed by Wayne Pearn (with assistance from Bridgette Burton), the show is in very good shape. It's a challenging piece for actors, with a lot of chorus work creating vocal soundscapes of frenetic, madness-inducing chatter, robotic instructions, alarms and electronic white noise. The effect is quite thrilling, even as it spins your head around and reminds you what you hate about travelling, and how paranoidly (is that a word?) reliant we are on electronic devices such as phones and computers, and the panic that can set in if we forget the charger, can't get online, or find ourselves in an interminable line at airport security. The show officially opens tonight. If you're in Melbourne, check it out.
Right, gotta dash. Another lunch date. Time to get out of this t-shirt and into a frock!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
I Heart Melbourne
Halloween night, Mum and I took the Flyaway bus out to LAX, where we found ourselves in a queue for 2 hours before we reached the check-in counter. There we were greeted by a swarthy young man wearing a very saucy serving wench outfit (complete with blonde wig and fake boobs bobbing out of a bustier), which was almost worth the wait. By that time we had little more than 30 minutes to get through security before our plane was due to start boarding. It's such an unnatural thing to climb into a machine that can hurtle through the sky, a crude emulation of a giant bird, and emerge 15 hours later on the other side of the world, tired, dehydrated, and slightly disoriented. But worth it.
For the record, I watch Dinner for Schmucks (although I snoozed through much if it, which shouldn't be taken as criticism, Jemaine Clements was HILARIOUS as the sexy beasty artist), SATC2 (the perfect thing to watch on a plane, because you don't need to hear most of the dialogue, the outfits are really pretty, and it's mostly a pile of luxury brand crap) and a couple of episodes of Nurse Jackie (a pity not to catch all the dialogue there, such a great show).
We sat next to a very Grumpy Woman, who shall hereafter be referred to as Grumps, for that amuses me. Grumps had the aisle seat, which meant Mum and I had to disturb her every time we wanted to stretch our legs or go to the toilet. And it was always necessary to disturb her as she never got up of her own volition. How does anyone sit in cattle class for 15 hours and not have a burning need at some point to stand up and move around, let alone relieve one's bladder? Grumps was lumpy, avoided eye contact, never acknowledged a 'thank you' and complained about having to move. Too bad, Grumps, you're in the aisle seat. And it's not like Mum and I were up and down every 10 minutes. It seemed Grumps was determined to be miserable. And she smelt bad. She should have stayed home. Seeya Grumps, your couch will welcome you with open arms.
Oh Melbourne, how I love you. I had a coffee at Melbourne Airport while Mum and I waited for our ride; even the takeaway brew at the arrivals terminal was better than the average excuse for a coffee one encounters in LA. I'm beside myself with excitement to be here, busily making plans to catch up with as many friends as possible. This morning I took a train into the CBD to meet a friend, and had a coffee and croissant for breakfast at one of my favourite little cafes. Bliss. Then a tram to Carlton to meet another friend, trundling past charming old terrace houses and shops with wrought ironwork verandahs and a local pub on every corner.
For the record, I watch Dinner for Schmucks (although I snoozed through much if it, which shouldn't be taken as criticism, Jemaine Clements was HILARIOUS as the sexy beasty artist), SATC2 (the perfect thing to watch on a plane, because you don't need to hear most of the dialogue, the outfits are really pretty, and it's mostly a pile of luxury brand crap) and a couple of episodes of Nurse Jackie (a pity not to catch all the dialogue there, such a great show).
We sat next to a very Grumpy Woman, who shall hereafter be referred to as Grumps, for that amuses me. Grumps had the aisle seat, which meant Mum and I had to disturb her every time we wanted to stretch our legs or go to the toilet. And it was always necessary to disturb her as she never got up of her own volition. How does anyone sit in cattle class for 15 hours and not have a burning need at some point to stand up and move around, let alone relieve one's bladder? Grumps was lumpy, avoided eye contact, never acknowledged a 'thank you' and complained about having to move. Too bad, Grumps, you're in the aisle seat. And it's not like Mum and I were up and down every 10 minutes. It seemed Grumps was determined to be miserable. And she smelt bad. She should have stayed home. Seeya Grumps, your couch will welcome you with open arms.
Oh Melbourne, how I love you. I had a coffee at Melbourne Airport while Mum and I waited for our ride; even the takeaway brew at the arrivals terminal was better than the average excuse for a coffee one encounters in LA. I'm beside myself with excitement to be here, busily making plans to catch up with as many friends as possible. This morning I took a train into the CBD to meet a friend, and had a coffee and croissant for breakfast at one of my favourite little cafes. Bliss. Then a tram to Carlton to meet another friend, trundling past charming old terrace houses and shops with wrought ironwork verandahs and a local pub on every corner.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Anticipating Melbourne
October disappeared in what feels like a matter of hours, and now the Halloween fun is upon us. Shops, offices, homes and cars are decorated to varying degrees with Halloween paraphernalia from the ghoulish to the cute, and TV shows are screening their special holiday episodes. I must admit to delighting in Glee’s Rocky Horror tribute, and observe that Mr Schuester should take off his shirt more often.
I’m somewhat inured to the loopiness of the season, having already experienced it twice, but Mum has been running around taking photographs of giant pumpkins and animatronic zombies lifting their glassy-eyed heads on and off in purgatorial repetition. This last week, however, she has been visiting friends in Vancouver. We’ll be spending a lot of time at airports this weekend as I collect her on Saturday, and then we head to LAX on Sunday night for our 14 hour blind dash in a speeding tin can back to Melbourne. We land on Cup Day! Oh, how I’m looking forward to being back in Melbourne, albeit for barely more than two weeks. A flying visit indeed, with many catch-ups, dinners and assorted revelry on the agenda.
I’m somewhat inured to the loopiness of the season, having already experienced it twice, but Mum has been running around taking photographs of giant pumpkins and animatronic zombies lifting their glassy-eyed heads on and off in purgatorial repetition. This last week, however, she has been visiting friends in Vancouver. We’ll be spending a lot of time at airports this weekend as I collect her on Saturday, and then we head to LAX on Sunday night for our 14 hour blind dash in a speeding tin can back to Melbourne. We land on Cup Day! Oh, how I’m looking forward to being back in Melbourne, albeit for barely more than two weeks. A flying visit indeed, with many catch-ups, dinners and assorted revelry on the agenda.
Friday, October 29, 2010
New York, New York
A couple of weeks ago, Mum and I spent a few days in New York. We flew in on a Thursday, landing in the early evening and greeted by fairly heavy rain and wind. After checking in to a boutique hotel on the upper East side, we walked to a nearby restaurant, one of several recommended by the hotel. Il Vagabondo is a little Italian joint, nestled just below street level in a former bocce alley. The bar, kitchen and coat check are at the front, and a narrow hallway leads to a small dining area running the length of a bocce alley, still intact and available to play on. The long, narrow dining arrangement called to mind the dining car on a train; not made for large groups, but quite cosy for two people. I ate delicious, hand-made agnoletti with butternut pumpkin (or squash, as they call it), sage, garlic and burnt butter. Yummy.
On the Friday we took ourselves off to the Guggenheim museum. Their current special exhibition is called Chaos and Classicism, and focuses on art produced between the First and Second World Wars. The (mostly) paintings on display include early works by Picasso, and are a mix of muscled bravado and idealised beauty. The human body is much on display, and the images are clean, quiet and orderly, as if artists wanted to return to a sense of calm and hope after the shock of the Great War (not knowing, of course, the world was headed for another within a generation). One of the most beautiful pieces was a golden sculpture of a woman’s head - the artist’s wife (or mistress, you know these artists). It is goddess-like and elegant in its simplicity. Check it out:
Head in Brass
After the Guggenheim, we took a stroll through Central Park to the West side, and headed south to catch up with an Aussie friend of mine who is now living in New York and pursuing a stand-up career. We feasted on bagels and then, having merrily chatted for an hour or so, suddenly realised we were going to be late for Memphis, the Tony Award-winning musical we had booked to see.
Which reminds me: when lining up at the Shubert Theatre box office to purchase our tickets that morning, we found ourselves an involuntary audience to quite a performance. The woman at the front of the line - hereafter known as the Obnoxious Brit - was pleading her case for free tickets for that evening’s show. She described the sad tale of the eight people she was traveling with “all the way from the south of France” who had bought tickets to the previous night’s show through an agent, only to have the tickets delivered to their hotel after the performance had begun. OB had got on the phone to the theatre straight away and was told to come to the box office first thing in the morning where, they promised, she’d be taken care of. After hearing her repeat her story countless times, three things were clear: (1) she had probably annoyed the person on the phone sufficiently (not getting the answer she wanted) until that person got rid of her by handballing her onto the box office; (2) she wanted to be given replacement tickets free of charge, although she didn’t exactly say those words; and (3) the theatre was not going to give them to her. I’ve got to give her props for trying, she threw it all out there, pled her case and was very persistent. But there comes a time when one must recognise that one has done all one can and it is time to stop. I don’t know when she reached that point. Perhaps as she was escorted off the premises by security.
That night, the theatre was packed to the rafters (which was pretty much where we were sitting) and I half expected to see OB there with her entourage, bullying her way into sitting in the aisles if necessary (something she offered to do during her box office performance). The show was terrific; telling the story of black music’s emergence into white popular culture through radio and television, it had great songs, choreography and dancing, performed at breakneck speed with joy and verve.
On Saturday we slept in and then headed to Greenwich Village. It was a lovely, sunny day, though windy. We strolled along Bleeker Street, lined up at Magnolia Bakery for some yummy delicious cupcakes, and had a late lunch at a funky fish café called Choptank. That night we saw another show, Time Stands Still, written by David Marguilies and starring the wonderful Laura Linney, the urbane Eric Bogosian, and the pixie-like Christina Ricci. Beautifully written and performed, it’s about two adrenalin-junkie war correspondents and what happens to their relationship after one nearly dies when a car bomb goes off, yet can’t wait to go back, while the other decides he has had enough and is ready for a “comfortable” life. Fabulous.
On Sunday we took the subway all the way to the southern tip of Manhattan to board a helicopter. After more than an hour of waiting in various lines, we got our 15 minute ride around the Statue of Liberty (aka “The Lady”), up the Hudson River and back again. I had been hoping the ride would take us right over the city, but I guess there are laws about that, so we stuck to the waterways. Nonetheless, it was rather exciting to be perilously airborne (yet feeling quite safe) and we got a good view of Manhattan in all its high-rise, metropolitan glory; Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, Ground Zero, Madison Square Garden, Central Park. We also got a birds-eye view of Hoboken, New Jersey and Brooklyn. By the time we got back to the hotel we barely had time to grab something to eat before the airport shuttle arrived to whisk us back to Newark. This journey introduced us to the second most obnoxious person in New York. The shuttle bus driver greeted us by yelling at us for making a double booking (we didn’t) and slammed the doors of the bus in our faces before we had a chance to load in our suitcases. He then proceeded to lean on his horn every few seconds, as apparently he was in a hurry and nobody in New York was moving fast enough for him. I was disinclined to tip him, but Mum’s a softie.
On the Friday we took ourselves off to the Guggenheim museum. Their current special exhibition is called Chaos and Classicism, and focuses on art produced between the First and Second World Wars. The (mostly) paintings on display include early works by Picasso, and are a mix of muscled bravado and idealised beauty. The human body is much on display, and the images are clean, quiet and orderly, as if artists wanted to return to a sense of calm and hope after the shock of the Great War (not knowing, of course, the world was headed for another within a generation). One of the most beautiful pieces was a golden sculpture of a woman’s head - the artist’s wife (or mistress, you know these artists). It is goddess-like and elegant in its simplicity. Check it out:
Head in Brass
After the Guggenheim, we took a stroll through Central Park to the West side, and headed south to catch up with an Aussie friend of mine who is now living in New York and pursuing a stand-up career. We feasted on bagels and then, having merrily chatted for an hour or so, suddenly realised we were going to be late for Memphis, the Tony Award-winning musical we had booked to see.
Which reminds me: when lining up at the Shubert Theatre box office to purchase our tickets that morning, we found ourselves an involuntary audience to quite a performance. The woman at the front of the line - hereafter known as the Obnoxious Brit - was pleading her case for free tickets for that evening’s show. She described the sad tale of the eight people she was traveling with “all the way from the south of France” who had bought tickets to the previous night’s show through an agent, only to have the tickets delivered to their hotel after the performance had begun. OB had got on the phone to the theatre straight away and was told to come to the box office first thing in the morning where, they promised, she’d be taken care of. After hearing her repeat her story countless times, three things were clear: (1) she had probably annoyed the person on the phone sufficiently (not getting the answer she wanted) until that person got rid of her by handballing her onto the box office; (2) she wanted to be given replacement tickets free of charge, although she didn’t exactly say those words; and (3) the theatre was not going to give them to her. I’ve got to give her props for trying, she threw it all out there, pled her case and was very persistent. But there comes a time when one must recognise that one has done all one can and it is time to stop. I don’t know when she reached that point. Perhaps as she was escorted off the premises by security.
That night, the theatre was packed to the rafters (which was pretty much where we were sitting) and I half expected to see OB there with her entourage, bullying her way into sitting in the aisles if necessary (something she offered to do during her box office performance). The show was terrific; telling the story of black music’s emergence into white popular culture through radio and television, it had great songs, choreography and dancing, performed at breakneck speed with joy and verve.
On Saturday we slept in and then headed to Greenwich Village. It was a lovely, sunny day, though windy. We strolled along Bleeker Street, lined up at Magnolia Bakery for some yummy delicious cupcakes, and had a late lunch at a funky fish café called Choptank. That night we saw another show, Time Stands Still, written by David Marguilies and starring the wonderful Laura Linney, the urbane Eric Bogosian, and the pixie-like Christina Ricci. Beautifully written and performed, it’s about two adrenalin-junkie war correspondents and what happens to their relationship after one nearly dies when a car bomb goes off, yet can’t wait to go back, while the other decides he has had enough and is ready for a “comfortable” life. Fabulous.
On Sunday we took the subway all the way to the southern tip of Manhattan to board a helicopter. After more than an hour of waiting in various lines, we got our 15 minute ride around the Statue of Liberty (aka “The Lady”), up the Hudson River and back again. I had been hoping the ride would take us right over the city, but I guess there are laws about that, so we stuck to the waterways. Nonetheless, it was rather exciting to be perilously airborne (yet feeling quite safe) and we got a good view of Manhattan in all its high-rise, metropolitan glory; Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, Ground Zero, Madison Square Garden, Central Park. We also got a birds-eye view of Hoboken, New Jersey and Brooklyn. By the time we got back to the hotel we barely had time to grab something to eat before the airport shuttle arrived to whisk us back to Newark. This journey introduced us to the second most obnoxious person in New York. The shuttle bus driver greeted us by yelling at us for making a double booking (we didn’t) and slammed the doors of the bus in our faces before we had a chance to load in our suitcases. He then proceeded to lean on his horn every few seconds, as apparently he was in a hurry and nobody in New York was moving fast enough for him. I was disinclined to tip him, but Mum’s a softie.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
October update
So it seems this has become a once-a-month blog. Not ideal, not my intention, and not to continue much longer. It's been a very busy few weeks. Mum arrived and has settled into the apartment I vacated at the end of September. As luck would have it, there was a room available that she could rent for the month of October, so she grabbed it. Certainly makes it easier for us to hang out when I'm not working. Between work, classes and rehearsals I don't have much free time these days, and much of what I have I'm devoting to Mum. She has been very intrepid finding her way around LA on the bus and rail system - and can aver that people do in fact use public transport in LA. She has had quite some adventures and met several Characters. She has also figured out what kind of coffee she likes and how to order it here. She's been Downtown, where she was impressed with Union Station, and found Alvarado St where she browsed the Mexican market and bought a nice summery dress. Despite my warnings, she was unprepared - coming from a cold and wet Melbourne winter - for just how hot the weather is here, even in Autumn. Although, last week we had a few cold, wet days just to shake things up a bit! This weekend, we're back to sweltering summer temperatures.
I've moved out of the dark little apartment that was my home for the last 8 months, upstairs into a 3 bedroom apartment with two other girls. There is so much more light up here, and no creaking floorboards above my head. Hallelujiah! Downside is that it certainly gets much hotter, but that's a deal I can handle.
Work has been going well, and I'll be there until at least the end of October. Maternity leave lady had indicated she might be back as soon as the 11th, but has postponed her return until November 1st. I'm kinda hoping she decides to take the next 12 months off work to spend it with her baby son. However, in the meantime, I have applied for another job at the University which sounds interesting and would be part time.
Yesterday Mum and I took a drive up to Santa Barbara, a very cute town populated largely by students attending the university, and wealthy retirees. A friend of mine is living there (for the record, she is neither a student nor wealthy) so it was a good opportunity to catch up while doing some sightseeing. It happened to be the Harbor Festival, with lots of seafood (especially lobsters and crabs) on show. You could buy them, still wriggling and snapping, out of wading pools off the pier, or dine on them from one of the restaurants or temporary stalls. The place was teeming with people (and lobsters), and it was a glorious, sunny day. We took a walk along the beach, which aside from being plagued by sandflies and seaweed washed up on the shore, was beautiful; lined by palm trees, framed by distant mountains, the water was cold and blue and speckled with brightly coloured boats and windsurfers.
I've moved out of the dark little apartment that was my home for the last 8 months, upstairs into a 3 bedroom apartment with two other girls. There is so much more light up here, and no creaking floorboards above my head. Hallelujiah! Downside is that it certainly gets much hotter, but that's a deal I can handle.
Work has been going well, and I'll be there until at least the end of October. Maternity leave lady had indicated she might be back as soon as the 11th, but has postponed her return until November 1st. I'm kinda hoping she decides to take the next 12 months off work to spend it with her baby son. However, in the meantime, I have applied for another job at the University which sounds interesting and would be part time.
Yesterday Mum and I took a drive up to Santa Barbara, a very cute town populated largely by students attending the university, and wealthy retirees. A friend of mine is living there (for the record, she is neither a student nor wealthy) so it was a good opportunity to catch up while doing some sightseeing. It happened to be the Harbor Festival, with lots of seafood (especially lobsters and crabs) on show. You could buy them, still wriggling and snapping, out of wading pools off the pier, or dine on them from one of the restaurants or temporary stalls. The place was teeming with people (and lobsters), and it was a glorious, sunny day. We took a walk along the beach, which aside from being plagued by sandflies and seaweed washed up on the shore, was beautiful; lined by palm trees, framed by distant mountains, the water was cold and blue and speckled with brightly coloured boats and windsurfers.
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