Hanging Up

My husband likes to say "comedy = tragedy + time" and as you can clearly see by the last blog, I've been weighted down with one thing or another. I am almost to the point where I can chuckle at my tribulations. I mean, honestly. My dentist visits had me sobbing in pain the first trip and then on the second, due to the many instruments, I vomited, twice. Yes, I said vomit and yes, I did it twice in one visit. Did I mention my dentist is quite handsome? Even my husband knows I have a crush on him. But I digress. I went right from dentist drama to bronchitis. If one thing wasn’t stopping me, apparently I was going for another.

Fortunately, for everyone, I am on the mend.

About 2 weeks ago, after a long thankless night of bar tending, to a very strange crowd, I might add, I locked my car and looked up into the clear night sky and saw millions of amazing stars.

I said, out loud:


"Whoever is in charge, please help light my light again. Please help me find my star and show me where to go. If I need to give up my dream, I will, it would just be really nice to know. Thank you. Oh and I love my husband, my mom, my dog and even my cats. Ok bye."


The following afternoon a casting comes across my lap: plus size model needed.

I submit my information and feel confident for the booking. The next morning I get a call, it's not decided yet, but the producer is to call me back if they want me.

Over coffee, Craig says to me, "now plays the waiting game," oh so very true.

I thought for sure by 2 pm I would have the call. Ok, by 3pm. I often feel like I hit this part of the game in this business, I spark an interest but never quite snag it.

All right, if I don't hear from him by 5 pm then I know, it wasn't for me.

5:15 pm I get the call and I have booked the job!


Hallelujah!


The following week, I was shooting a segment for The Rachael Ray Show! I worked with Ashley Falcon who is a plus size fashionista blogger from Marie Claire Magazine. And let me just say that my rack of clothes were right across from Heidi Klum’s. Oh, and Nina Garcia was diligently working throughout the office where we were shooting. I learned I could rock a “skinny” jean, and an I.N.C. sweater dress is on my Christmas list. It was a great two days to be doing what I love.

There was one point while shooting, where I started to worry. No one had said I was doing a great job. No one had said I was doing terribly, either. In the olden days of Bekah, at this point, I would have been my own worst enemy, crumbled to the ground and bombed the whole audition or job. The inner best friend came out, I took a deep breath, and reminded myself, “if you’re doing it all wrong, they’ll tell you, if you’re doing it right, they’ll keep moving forward,” which is exactly what we did.

I will, of course, post show times and channels of the segment.


Guess this dream isn’t getting hung up, just yet.

It’s Been a Long Time.

I said I was the world’s best procrastinator. But still. This has been long, even for me.

It's been one of those times where things just kept getting dumped on me and I have been trudging along, barely. The only constant positive has been my husband, who I now know is a saint not only for putting up with me, but also for being the sweetest most supportive man ever. I certainly have not been easy to live with. Between toothaches, root canals, hardships at work, and now bronchitis, I haven’t been myself.

How could I?

For a while here I had lost my focus. I had lost my drive to actively pursue my acting and modeling craft at all times, which is a key factor in cultivating its growth. It is a business and I have let it go stagnant, a fact I am not proud to admit.

They say as destructive as a forest fire is, it is nature's way of rebirth, rebuilding and starting anew.

I am taking this as my opportunity to do just that.

Lip Service

I am very excited.

SKORCH magazine, which caters exclusively to size 12 and above, is coming back — in print!!! Available exclusively online before taking a year hiatus, the team announced that the publication of their first issue will be in time for The Holidays. Perfect timing for me! Leafing through pages of fashion at my fingertips is so much more fulfilling than scrolling online, not only because I always have so many tabs open and I get sidetracked easily, but also because there is something comforting about holding the printed page in my hand. What is even more exciting is that this magazine might be The One.

We are all aware of how most women’s magazines are filled with skinny, size 0 models — the covers, articles, editorials, and even the ads about shampoo! It is just a fact. So all of us who are not so emaciated feel left out and out of place as we read. If we started talking about TV and film media, I could go on for hours.

SKORCH on the other hand will be that magazine for us. Fashion for us! Articles for us! It will be as if we were leafing through Glamour, but without the hullabaloo of how it is such a big stinking deal that there is ONE size 14 model featured in it. I almost want to write,


“Dear Glamour,
Just because you have one plus sized model in your magazine doesn’t mean you’re full-figure friendly. I’d rather read about fashions for all sizes than fashions for small sizes. But since you have made it abundantly clear that you will only pay lip service, I will proudly take a magazine geared only to full figured women and leave yours at the newsstand.”


Look for it in December.

Modelquin Behaviour

So, is anyone else just plain disturbed by this re-occurring Old Navy campaign? I thought it would go away after such a negative response and I understand models are expensive, but to center multiple season campaign on Super Modelquins, who talk, nonetheless, is too absurd for me. They even have a story line for the dummies, and use phrases such as “bodacious booties.” Really!? It’s a mannequin — one of the illest forms of representation for the human body second, perhaps, only to Barbie. “Uh, You don’t have a bum, let alone a bootie, and I’d rather not waste my time or money at a place that obviously is not interested in my beautiful curves.”

Speaking of not wasting my time and money on a product not fit for me, let’s discuss my dear friend, who is in a wedding and purchased a $296.00 Jim Hjelm dress. It doesn’t fit. Not because she is deformed. Oh, heavens no! These designers and production teams do not take the time to properly fit the average woman with curves. The fact that the material will lay differently seems not even to be an afterthought. Oh wait, yes, the afterthought lies in the fact that if one is any size over an 8 she must PAY for extra material to be “added” on the dress. Why, yes, that’s a very nice after thought right in the pockets that profit from the average woman.

So whenever I want to reassure myself that I am a real live model, I click over here

Back to the Drawing Board

Well, it has been a couple of months, but I have finally made it back to the gym.

*sound the chorus* or *pats self on the back*

My lack of gym time was part of the whole post wedding blues that I wrote about in a previous post. I had already determined I have moved on and have gotten back in my saddle again. (Okay, not fully, but at least I’ve got a toe in the stirrup.)

On this particular sunny day in Bekah World, I fought with the alarm, and even Craig for that matter, before dragging my oh-so-sleepy limbs out of my deep and peaceful slumber. Somehow I managed to sleepwalk my way into my baby blue gym pants paired with my hot pink t-shirt. Sneaks were on and tied and I was out the door to the sound of Craig’s praises.

Life was good and I was being a good kid.

After a vigorous two hour work out — weights, cardio, abs — cheeks flushed, blood pumping, full of energy, I was ready to tackle the day!

As I was preparing to leave, I had a “stop ‘n’ chat” about a new fitness regime with the lady who runs our classes. Another lady who seemed to be lurking around looked at me, and with the sweetest smile and most sincere tone in her voice said, “Aw, angel, with a pretty face like that, I’d get skinny.”

At that, I gave her what-for and punched her in the face.

Okay, not quite.

Turns out my brain didn’t even register her words at first. Instead, I felt myself go into shutdown mode. You know the feeling, when you imagine the floor swallowing you up as you escape with out a trace. I was wondering what was happening to me as I swallowed the huge lump that had formed in my throat, when it finally began to make sense in my brain.

Pretty...

Skinny...

Opposite of skinny...

Fat?

FAT!

These words floated across my mind’s eye as I tried to contain myself. The anger didn’t even hit me until I was speeding down Lehigh Street, relaying my encounter on my girls’ voicemails.

I don’t stay angry for long, it usually turns right into tears.

I haven’t been back to the gym since.

Back to Basics

I have always been a “mover.” Life has always had me in a different place every few years. We moved around a lot when I was a kid. It’s part of what has molded me, and yet, I have never felt settled or rooted anywhere.

Take having friends for example. Moving so often, I have always been able to adapt to new situations and to meet new people. Being friendly and outgoing are easy for me, but at the same time I struggle on the inside with acceptance.
“Will she like me? Will she want to be my friend?” These are very common thoughts in my head.

When I bond with another person, it’s a true connection and I do my best to nurture the relationship. But then life gets in the way and I am on to my next destination. Few friendships have lasted but those that have are my “girls” — the ones I call upon when I need them. Even if we have not spoken for a while, we are back to “us” as soon as one of us picks up the phone, and I absolutely love them for that.

As we were planning the big move into our home last week, with everything unsettled, I had started to flounder. I was looking to everyone and everywhere for that sense of approval and acceptance. I was looking so far out that I had bypassed the central support system of my husband, my “girls” and my mom. I ended up feeling empty-handed, lonely and left out. Once I realized I wasn’t going to find acceptance, sympathy and encouragement anywhere else, I also realized that it’s not about quantity with friendships, but that quality is where the richness lies. Even more so, my focus needs to be on the only person I can really control — myself.

As Earl Woods would say to his son, Tiger when he would falter on his game,
“Just bring it back to the basics.”

And that’s what I am doing.

new home, new beginning

We bought our first home. It’s been such a whirlwind of emotion and excitement. All the days leading up to the final meeting, or “The Closing” were filled with many unknowns, surprises, and setbacks. There were mountains of paperwork and a lot of signatures. I also learned my lesson with shredding documents. Um yeah, don’t shred important bank statements from your previous bank if you are in the process of securing a loan to buy a home. It all sounds so simple. Anyway, I saw the error of my ways and we were able to work our powers of whom we knew and moved through that hurdle only to come into another one. We made it through them all and when the last signature signed and the last hand shaken, Craig and I were official homeowners! Once we were given the golden keys (ok they were silver) we were the happiest couple ever.

On that day, before we drove to the new house, Craig took a small detour, to my work place, of all spots. I was a bit confused. He explained how he had borrowed my boss’s truck and once he opened the garage I could see in the bed of the truck were two beautiful white rocking chairs for our front porch! When he handed me a card, it all sunk in. This was where we had first met. We are married and now, homeowners.

Many friends and family have stopped over to see our progress and our customers at our work places are truly interested in our new venture. We have a back yard with a tree, a line of peonies and rose bushes that line the back and azaleas frame the front. We now take frequent breaks on our porch in the famous white rockers. Craig is in the process of sanding, scraping, caulking, and painting with some electrical work on the side, thanks to our brother-in-law. I am trying my thumbs at some gardening. It’s working out for us. We are both just so excited and cannot wait to move in!

"Closure"

As a Bride to Be, you spend most of your time researching vendors, fine-tuning your details, and filtering all the free advice offered to you. Oh, and yeah, you have to maintain your life, too — work, bills, gym, shopping, cooking, cleaning, cat litter, and being a good friend and family member, since you don’t want to be a self-centered bride after all. When your big day arrives, you cherish every moment of it and then you and your new hubby are off on your honeymoon. Perfect! Once you arrive home safe and sound, refreshed and relaxed, you have the task of thank you cards (I fought it as long as I could) and intertwining your life with your husband’s.

As the weeks start to go by, there are no more appointments to discuss decisions like square or round plates. The magazines have stopped coming in, and there are definitely no more drives to New York for your gown fitting, which now hangs in an armoire at your mother’s house, next to the large, beautifully hand-written seating chart listing all the names of your wedding guests. It might be a relief for some, but, well, a little letdown for others, ahem, like me. For as much planning advice was given to me, no one really talked about the period after the planning and big day are over. I whined about it a lot, maybe I was even more annoying than I was during my planning, (gotta ask my girls on that one. ;) But finally, Craig turned to me as said, “I really wish you wouldn’t be so sad. Please remember the great memories we had, and the ones we are going to make for the rest of our lives together?”

I bucked up. I got the point.

A few weeks ago, we ventured to the beach — the same exact stretch of beach where we became betrothed 20 months ago. Through our whole year of planning, leading up to our Day, we had never been back to our beach, and being a water lover this was such a refreshing return. More so, it was closure. Closure for my “post wedding blues.” It was comforting to return where we started the first part of our journey, to see where we are now, and to see our hope for the future. It’s bright! So bright, we’re buying a house, but that’s a whole other blog all together.

Just Another Day, Downtown in The City

One of the hardest things about being an actor and model is the constant personal scrutiny that one is forced to undergo on a regular basis. I mean really, in most lines of work, if the boss asked the job applicant to strip down to her underwear during the interview so he could get a good look from all angles, there would be serious problems.

But there are some days you when you just feel so ready for the audition, you don’t even care that the “changing room” is actually a conference room with no blinds on the windows, where you can look across the street and wave to the guys at the water cooler. Such was the case a couple of weeks ago, when I booked two auditions for the same day.

I arrived at the first casting, for a bridal wear company, and everything went so right. Being a newlywed, the environment felt very natural to me. I hit it off with everyone, feeling relaxed and posing with confidence, and they got some great Polaroids.

No time to chat, though. I’m off to the next one, walking down Park Avenue with an added sureness in my step. After another super positive reception and great feedback from the client, I decided to treat myself to a cab ride over to the best cup of coffee in town — Ninth Street Espresso. It was a little bit of a haul over to Alphabet City, but as I sat with a perfect café mocha, (don’t ask for a “mochaccino” or risk the barista’s sneer,) admiring the intricate latte artwork in the foam of my drink, I looked back on the day with great hopes.

A couple days later, after not hearing from either job, I started to feel a very strong letdown. One of the biggest factors for success in this business is perseverance, so instead of falling into feelings of disappointment and wondering why I didn’t book the gig, I’m choosing to remember that perfect cup of coffee, that strong feeling of confidence, and keep my chin up as I keep pushing forward.

"Surprise Day: Revealed"

Well, I guess you might say it was a “working surprise day.” After tying up some loose ends on the offer we are making on our first home — yep, I said new home, that’s a whole ‘nother three or four blog entries, there! — Craig made us a quick sandwich, and we were off to our first surprise destination.

We end up at Cracker Barrel, of all places, where we priced the rocking chairs which had caught our eyes the last time we met Craig’s parents there. We found out we could purchase chairs from their “scratch ‘n’ dent” category for half price. The worst wear we found on most of them was that the paint was scratched off at the end of the armrests. Craig summed it up by saying; “I would do that over the summer with my beer, anyway.” BINGO!!! They’ve got new shipments coming in regularly. We’ll find out when’s the one closest to our closing date and snatch them up then.

Next stop, Clark’s Appliances in Fleetwood, PA — the heart of Mennonite country. Clark’s is a small, family-run business where we got very careful informative service from one of the daughters. We went through all the various features of washers, dryers and refrigerators. We definitely made some informed decisions, but after over an hour of this, both of our heads were turning faster than an ultra-efficient spin-cycle. As we drove away and mulled over the items we picked, I realized that I never thought I would be this excited over appliances!

So, we relaxed for a bit, browsing at a home and garden center, daydreaming about what would look good at our new house, and then quickly reminding ourselves and each other that it’s not a done deal yet… we can’t get our hopes up until we have the keys. =)

And then we were off to beat closing time at the local dry goods store, where we stocked up on grains and beans and healthy snacks. So, a working surprise day. I’ll take it.
A girl can’t have diamonds every day.

"Surprise Blog"

Ahh… Surprise Day!

It’s one of the best days I ever came up with — not that I’ve come up with that many “days” — and I give myself major props for the idea. But, my work ends there. I have to say my husband Craig has done the best job with executing the concept, each with a fun, new, and exciting surprise.

It all started back in 2005 when our work schedules only gave us one day off together per week. With my modeling, sometimes we wouldn’t even have that. Instead of fighting the system (not that I would know how to do that, anyway ;) I came up with the brilliant idea of having Monday be the day one of us surprises the other with a fun activity to do.

My first go ‘round, I booked us some back-to-back full-body massages. (I must admit though, it really was Craig’s late birthday and Christmas gifts combined, but I do applaud my consolidation skills, and the massages were wonderful.) Craig’s turn and he takes us to Manayunk, near Philly for some used record shopping, a fabulous dinner, and a quiet walk along the river at twilight.

after the massages and before Manayunk, circa 2005

The following week was a little more low-key and he took us to the library, which was a lot more fun that that sounds. My turn, I bombed out by taking us to the car wash… NOT a good surprise day idea. I don’t think we even washed our cars.

So after my failed car wash idea Craig unofficially took over for surprise day, thank goodness. He has arranged a bunch of interesting and amusing plans. The Post Secret exhibit in Reading, PA, was extremely memorable, and just recently he included my Momma and took us to the beautiful Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, just outside Philadelphia.

The best surprise day ever was the day we got engaged on the beach. He played an impromptu mini-concert on his saxophone with the ring box stashed in the bell of his horn. At the end he pretended like there was something wrong with it and made me look inside to see what it was.

Yeah, pretty amazing!

full story


So here I am getting ready for another surprise day. Turns out it’s on a Tuesday this week.

What shall the day hold for me this time? I am sure it’s something fun, since Craig has his finger on it!

Check back soon for the update!

Service, or not?

It was imperative that I venture to the mall on Saturday. My chocolate frost eyeliner had been whittled down to the teeniest, tiniest pencil ever. As of Thursday, it had become non-existent. I was forced to use black eye liner.

This is tragic in my world. My efforts to rim my eyes with brown eye shadow weren’t futile, but I had to hit the mall before work.

It had been a busy week, and I was a little stressed that this had to be a quick power shop, instead of my usual browse, shop, coffee break, shop, repeat. The clock was ticking.

I met my mom at Macy’s. The place was mobbed with pre-holiday shoppers. Recession? Not here. At the counter an attractive, terse woman greeted me coolly. I took my cues from there and did my best to be precise and clear about what I needed. She checked for the precious chocolate frost eyeliner, coming back empty-handed to say they are out of that color. Without another word, she walks away and proceeds to service another waiting customer.

HUH?
Is this thing on?

I stood there bewildered and I started to get angry. I looked at my mother and asked her, “Did that really just happen?!?!?”

So, I’m standing there with my mouth hanging open, contemplating leaving, when another sales lady named Cassandra asks if I am being helped. “Uh, well… there was a woman helping me, but after she told me the one item I was looking for was sold out, she left. So I am not sure if I am being helped anymore.” Cassandra immediately took over and started our interaction by exclaiming how pretty I was, and telling me that I look like I could work. My anger level subsided and I smiled in relief. Flattery doesn’t get you everywhere with me, but it is a start.

A light bulb goes on over her head, and she goes off and digs around in the cabinets behind the display cases. She brings over a gift set that consists of eye makeup remover, mascara and, drum roll, please the chocolate eyeliner I can’t do without! It covered all of my bases since I also needed the mascara. Plus, it comes in a cute little clear purple-striped cosmetic bag. Major bonus! Show me more!

So, without being pushy, and in very little time, my new best friend Cassandra was able to “up-sell” me into a fairly hefty Clinique purchase, and my mom and I still had time to grab a quick latte.

We could all use a little more Cassandra in our lives, both the being and receiving.

"It's all good"

“Oh, do I have a funny story for you,” I told a very dear friend today at her couples bridal shower, after she opened her gift from Craig and me.

Flashback to last week, when each day I would log onto the Bed Bath & Beyond website, and click these stunning Kate Spade champagne flutes into my shopping cart. “Do it! Buy them!” Craig would exclaim, but somehow, I wasn’t ready to click that orange button to finalize my sale. I just couldn’t. Maybe I had bills to pay first, or dishes to do before that. I’d get going, and before I knew it, it was time to get ready for work. “It will be okay,” I would say to myself. “Tomorrow we’ll get it all together, and I’ll order those glasses.”

Well, tomorrow would come, as it always does, but I kept having something else pop up and distract me, until last Sunday evening. I was finally ready to do it. But when I loaded the page with the flutes, I came upon the dreaded, “This item has already been purchased.”

Procrastination 5,674; Bex: 721

Craig didn’t understand. He thought I’d bought them days ago. We quibbled. I beat myself up.

So, Plan B? We headed up to the local store, and opted for a “fun” gift, instead — a Belgian waffle iron. I purchased very cool gift paper from Hallmark, and paired it with wide black ribbon and finished it with a rhinestone decoration. Craig used his O.C.D. skills with the wrap job, and I wrote a little message in the card. The looks on their faces were priceless when they opened our gift. The champagne flutes were a big hit, too, sent from a friend who was unable to attend, but one of them had broken in shipping. That would have upset me if we’d gotten them that, but this way Nat will just take care of it, and the friend never needs to know. Everybody’s happy.

So, I guess it all worked out. I was right where I needed to be all along. Maybe I can try to remind myself of this little story the next time I second-guess my intuition.

"The Shrinking States of Toni"

We are coming upon the season finale of the new Showtime series, “The United States of Tara.” For those of you aren’t familiar with the show, it follows the trials of a woman with multiple personalities, and how it affects her family. Toni Collette is the main character and does one fantastic job. But let me take you back 15 years to when we were introduced to Toni in a movie called “Muriel’s Wedding.” It definitely had your share of “cheese,” but she played a beautiful, curvy woman with insecurities, trying to find friendship and love. I was drawn to her realness and beauty from here.

Fast forward to “The Sixth Sense.” She was Haley Joel Osment’s mom in that one —yeah, even my mom didn’t believe me on that fact — and I felt she was downplayed for the entire show. Fine, that’s a stepping-stone role to the mainstream, so I guess I understood. Then, push the button a little farther to her next memorable turn, “In Her Shoes,” with Cameron Diaz. In this film, she plays a successful, curvy (or, shall we say, “real-sized”) woman, and we observe her relations with her skinny, flighty, undependable sister. One step forward for curvy girls! But in the back of my head, the whole time, I was thinking to myself, “Well, they keep calling her fat, but she’s really not that big…” and, it’s the Diaz character who’s allowed to grow and develop.

Now, with “The United States of Tara,” I have noticed an extreme shift in Toni’s weight. She has definitely become an "actor” with this show, but why does it seem that this notoriety comes with the shedding of pounds? The weight of any talented actress always seems to drop when she starts to become “noticed.” Kate Winslet, anyone?!?!?!

It seems as if a curvy actress needs to start off being plus-sized, and portray herself in such a way — take the back seat and the brunt of a bunch of jokes — but before she is regarded as a “talented actor,” she must shed a bunch of pounds and fit the mold of the typical Hollywood waif.

I guess it makes me feel that success in the entertainment industry is all that more unattainable. So, what? I not only have to hone my acting chops to a razor’s edge, but I must attain an underweight body type, as well?

I’m not bitter. I’m just confused.

A case of "The Blahs"

So, I woke up today feeling a little blah. Blasé. Blahsarific. Blahzee Blahzerson. I needed to face it. I had a pretty bad case of “I’m not feeling so great about myself, today.” I muddled through my normal routine, but I was just lagging behind. I felt extremely unmotivated and lackluster throughout my daily cleaning and pre-work chores. As a result, and to top it all off, I was 10 minutes late for work. The thing is, though, I didn’t speed or even stress about getting there, either. Pretty bad huh?

It got so bad that for the first hour of my shift, tending bar, I actually started trying to convince myself that my once seemingly attainable dreams were indeed becoming decidedly unattainable. But, then it occurred to me, as I have been hearing often from good people around me, “Negativity begets negativity.” As cheesy this may sound, all of a sudden, I heard a little positive voice in my head, the one we all have, (apparently the volume was up today ;) say to me, “Yes! I can, and, yes, I will.” I felt better as I repeated this — slowly, but surely — relieved and rejuvenated.

For the rest of the night, each time I served someone her Cosmopolitan and cheese plate, or his pork cheeks with Scotch on the rocks, when the those negative thoughts came back, I replaced them with, “Yes! I can, and, yes, I will.” Typing here, now, I feel more ready to do what I need to do, in order to make myself happier in the long run. I am also able to remind myself that I am content with my journey, and I am happy right now.

Jet Lagged

Well, it has been a few weeks, but I am finally coming around from being jet-lagged. Where did I venture, you ask? Nowhere — I am simply a victim of Daylight Saving Time. Now, most of you probably think this is a figment of my vivid imagination, but every year when we move that little hand forward and lose that hour of sleep, I feel cranky, sleepy, and just plain unproductive for the few weeks that ensue. Both my mom and my husband claim that I make this up to explain why I like to sleep a little later. (I argue and argue, but in their defense, I am a professional sleeper.) I understand why they say this, but that doesn’t make it true.

To compensate, I am forced to up my beauty regimen with a little more focus on my eyeliner, pinker colors for my lips, a little more blush and an extra spritz or two of a revitalizing body spray. I have also done a lot more shopping than usual this month. I started off getting some cute tops from H&M and paired them with my favorite jeans and my BCBG heels. Then, I headed over to Old Navy and found some spring-weight cords which, once my husband saw the first pair on me, I was told to go out and buy more. He didn’t have to tell me twice! I ended up getting them in dark green, dark tan and light tan. I purchased the last two pairs on sale for $19.99. Plus, I had a birthday coupon — got to love that.

I imagine that the people out in Indiana are still adjusting to the big change since in the last few years they, too, have finally joined the rest of us. March seems like a blur. Now that we are heading into April and I have finally stopped responding to requests for the time with, “well, the clock reads 3 p.m., but it is really 2 p.m.,” I think I can finally say I have recovered.

Would you please be my PUH?

(Personal Umbrella Holder, that is)

I recently saw pictures of a few famous people, who shall remain nameless, in US weekly. Each of them had a PUH — on set, going to a premier, a party, the 7-11… Well, I believe, being the struggling actor/model that I am, that I actually need a PUH more than the already famous, simply due to the fact that once one becomes famous she doesn’t have to carry anything!!! So, really, it wouldn’t hurt her to carry her own umbrella.

Now, I have been to many castings and auditions. Each time I am carrying my portfolio, my music if it’s for musical theatre, and extra headshots so after the casting director calls me back right away and books me for the part, he can give those extra photos to Steven Spielberg on his coffee break, and, WOOHOO, I’m famous by lunch!

But, I digress. In addition to the marketing tools, I also carry a pair of heels to change into when I get to my destination — no one should walk around Manhattan in heels — and a few other unmentionables in case I’m asked to model some of the designer’s clothes. Oh, and please don’t forget the lip-gloss. Where does all of this go? In my huge over the shoulder tote, of course. Naturally, I always need my pink Blackberry handy to get that call from my pal, Steve. And hydration is important, so I need my eco-friendly water jug.

As you can imagine, this leaves me with absolutely no free hand for my umbrella. If it rains, it’s all over for me. I am dropping things, struggling to pick them up, dropping more things in the process, and my whole left side somehow becomes drenched. How DOES that happen?

So, you see, I definitely qualify for this service. Maybe I should call my congressman? I’m sure he could squeeze this somewhere in the new stimulus package!

Rock Band (Or… Everyone Needs a Hobby)

I guess it was about a year or so ago that I was introduced to Rockband on Xbox. My brother-in-law, Ron, has always been an “early adopter,” way ahead of the curve in terms of technology and progress, such as it is. He’s also a huge audiophile, with a collection of vinyl records that would rival most college radio stations. So, it was quite fitting that I should play my first round of the game on his system — the perfect blend of “Smoke on the Water” and microprocessors in the living room.

My husband is a musician, and for a while was risking being called an “old man,” with his cranky dissings of this popular, and may I say, super-fun game. For the longest time he answered my stories of the great times I had at Ron and Heidi’s house with comments like, “you know, playing that guitar is like playing a ukulele with five frets and one string;” or, “If you would spend just a quarter of the time that you spend over there playing that game, playing a real guitar, in a few months you’d be able to play the guitar!”

And then I finally brought it to our house. He was lulled into accepting the Wii into his environment by “World of Goo,” a physics-based game that bores me to tears, and Mario Kart, with the steering wheels, which has brought us no end of laughter. This made it much less of a stretch for me to quietly sneak the big box with the whole package — guitar, drums, microphone — into the home.

And victory is MINE!!! There he was for the first day, looking on with a scowl as I jammed out to Modest Mouse and Cheap Trick. By the second day, he was just doing his best to ignore me, but on the third day, a moment of Biblical proportions occurred. He dug into the box and pulled out the so-far neglected drum kit, hooked it up, and goofed around with the tutorial. He’s had to eat a little crow, but we’ve been having a blast taking our “band” “on tour,” attracting “fans” and earning “cash.” We’re currently only playing Stockholm and Berlin, but soon coming to a theater near you.

the show must go on

“Ugh, I am not feeling so hot,” were my first words on a cold and blustery Monday morning in February, leading my husband, Craig, to venture out to the pharmacy and get me every cold remedy he could find. It only got worse. Two days later, a beautiful, balmy Wednesday arrives and the doctor says I have bronchitis. This can’t be happening! I am booked to walk that night wearing Sydney's Closet's stunning crimson dress, “Sizzle,” in Catherine Schuller’s “Red Hot ‘n’ Real” runway show to benefit Divabetic, a charity she works with to raise awareness about women’s health issues.

New York City seems a thousand, rather than seventy-five, miles away. I just want to go to bed. But, there’s no way I can turn down the opportunity to do a show at JZ’s downtown 40/40 Club, and it’s a big event for Catherine — the Valentine’s themed show is also a book-signing party for her latest, “Image Power.” I can’t let her or myself down, so I chug my cough medicine and Craig and I hop in my VW Beetle for what’s usually a 90-minute drive to Manhattan. We’re cruising along swimmingly, halfway there, when all of a sudden traffic comes to a complete stop. There’s been an accident up ahead, and we sit there for what turns out to be 45 minutes, me getting more and more anxious.

Finally, the cars around us start to crawl. The one ahead of us sits still. The driver has fallen asleep, and is deaf to horns blowing all around him. As Craig maneuvers onto the left-hand shoulder to go around this dozer, a confused look comes over his face. He pulls as close as he can to the median and mutters, “flat tire.” With that, he’s out of the car, ignoring me as I ask him if he knows how to fix it, only shooting me one of those “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” looks. I can’t believe this is happening, and I’m nervous as all get-out as cars are whizzing by us in both directions, asking myself if this is some sign from the universe that we should just turn around and go back home.

Twelve minutes later we’re back in business, and Craig’s got a very self-satisfied air about him from having the opportunity to flex his man muscles. I’m just doing my best to calm and reassure myself that we’ll be there on time. But it’s rush hour at the Lincoln Tunnel — stop and go traffic for another thirty minutes.

I arrive in Chelsea with just enough time to jump into my dress and bring up the back of the line for the last minutes of the rehearsal, joining 30 gorgeous, curvy girls, all dressed in red, as we get a feel for the space and receive some final instructions.

And then it’s show time. For 15 minutes I forget being sick as adrenaline takes over for the antihistamines. The room is packed with an appreciative crowd, and I spot Emme — America’s first plus-sized supermodel — among them, as cameras flash and music pulses, The thrill is greater for all the obstacles I had to overcome to get there. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Or does it? My best girl, Megan, who has met us at the club, has the best surprise in store. After helping me to get organized while Craig fetches the car, she asks us to make a little detour on our trip uptown to drop her off. In a moment, we are upstairs at Tenzan, (285 Columbus Ave.; don’t let them seat you downstairs) enjoying fabulous sushi at one of my favorite places on earth, laughing about all the stressful events of the day. Someone was right when they said, “comedy is tragedy plus time.”

I’m happy to report that the ride home was uneventful. I don’t think I’ve ever slept as well as I did that night.

first impressions

Lately, it seems everyone on facebook is doing this list of “25 Random Things About Me.” I haven’t done one yet, because, “#1) I’m a huge procrastinator,” but if I did, there might have been a line in there that read, “#5) I was recently asked by a really cool online clothing company to try my hand at writing their blog.” You might already have seen my face on the Sydney’s Closet site, and you already know what great selection and value they offer. If you are new to the site, I can tell you from my working with them that in addition to having fine eyes for fashion, the folks behind the scenes here are great people, too, and “#12) I’m a good judge of character — my first impressions are usually right on.”

I’ve been acting and modeling in and around the New York City area for five years now, and with all the ups and downs of the business, it’s a good thing that, “#14) Perseverance is one of my strongest qualities,” or else I probably would have given it up four years ago. “#18) As a kid, I moved around a lot, and never stayed in one school for very long.” I consider my experience in the modeling world a part of my continuing education, or maybe I should say, “#23) I attended graduate school at Hard Knocks and Sweat More.”

I’ve learned a lot along the way, about myself, business, style and life in general. I’m excited by this opportunity to share some of that here with you a couple times a week. Stay tuned for the next installment, where I shall thrill you with a tale of bronchitis, a flat tire, a runway show at a blingy hip-hop club, dead batteries and fabulous sashimi.