Girls Only

A late night, coupled with an early morning call time does not lend itself to a beautiful blogpost. So this morning, a photo for your enjoyment. The Leading Lady, and several VIP cast, photographed doing what young girls do best: The Hand Jive.

Wow! That Was Just Like In The Movies . . .

WHAM! BANG!

The gymnasium door swung open with great fervor and impetuous flair.

I had found an out of the way corner behind The Sound Man and his computer screen vantage point once again. The next scene up was my son, and I wanted to catch the action live and in person.

This time, The Aussie and he were surrounded by a group of boys, featured extras, who were part and parcel of the setting by way of visual descriptors.

Little dinner jackets and ties, button up shirts with starched collars and polished shoes.

It was all part of the ambiance to be included in the shot. Rehearsal had gone swimmingly, and the last boy was hurried into place, a straggler of sorts, while wardrobe put the finishing touches on his final appearance before pushing him through the door to the gym.

"Take 1! Roll 'em ~ and . . . ACTION!"

All was well. Then, suddenly ~

WHAM! BANG!

The gymnasium door swung open with great fervor and impetuous flair.

From my vantage point, the door opened toward me, hiding briefly the frame of the lad who had just been pushed in moments before ~ but that hidden stance was over in a blink of an eye.

A hand put to the mouth, a panicked expression, and the loss of the contents of his nervous stomach spewed out in a desperate attempt to find a trash can gone awry.

Fortunately, crew members had moved aside in the course of their duties, so no human was spewed upon in the moment of embarrassing truth - the boy had butterflies beyond belief, and he couldn't. take. it. anymore.

The first wave brought temporary relief as he then quickly retreated to a nearby receptacle, and continued his unabashed horking.

Meanwhile, the show was going on! Not one crew member was able to stop what they were doing to assist in any way ~ so it was obvious that I, Studio Mom, would have to take up the cause.

I stepped out from my little corner and headed toward the boy. I quickly assessed that he would be unable to articulate any type of answer to any question I might pose, so I then calculated a move toward the closest person with a headset, slightly off duty, in conversation and oblivious to the activity going on behind her.

"Are you in Wardrobe?" I asked her.

"No. Is there a problem?" she asked.

I pointed behind her, to the little boy, obviously still in great distress.

"Oh, my." she said. "I'll call wardrobe right away."

"CUT!"

The timing couldn't have been better, as the stopping of the cameras afforded one of the assistant directors the opportunity to finally turn his attention to the troubled lad.

"Are you okay?" he ventured, while the Headseted One and I approached to inform him that help was on the way.

If I hadn't of seen it with my own eyes, I might have thought it was planned, and the special effects thereof painstakingly executed to give the appearance of realism.

But no.

It happened. Just like in the movies . . .

Poor lad. Crashed and burned big time. I pray it doesn't scar him for life, the embarrassment of it all . . .

A Strange, Yet Wonderful Thing . . .

. . . happened tonight.

We're living [almost] in the lap of luxury. King size beds, feather pillows, down comforters; each our own room and bath; a full kitchen, living area. Not opulent, but sturdy and functional.

The biggest plus?

Maid Service.

At the snap of my fingers I could cause the hotel management to dispatch personnel in a flash, to distribute and tend to our needs.

We don't do that.

But we could.

But we don't.

Yet, there is no doubt it is nice to return home at the end of a long day to a bed crisply made, and fresh towels in the bath.

Not to mention the dishes done, and room tidied, and vacuum run.

I've not let it go to my head. After all ~ I've passed on service more than once: let the maid have my room taken off her list for free. Everyone likes to be relieved of a duty or two now and again.

Today, I released the maid.

No service, please.

None. Zip. Nada.

The place was well-lived in by days end.

How surprisingly delightful, then, was the moment when ~ without being asked, my son, the actor moved into the kitchen and spruced it up, just as if he were home and had his normal, routine kitchen duty.

Wow. His upbringing really is sticking with him.

How cool. :)