Hotter Than a Pepper Sprout

This morning I was briefly, but hilariously, possessed by the spirit of my dead mother. Before I explain, I feel compelled to say this is a post that no self-respecting person would share with world (or even the two or three people who might read this). Oh, I'm not going to admit to anything illegal or even anything that could get me in trouble at work, but just a story that makes me look very silly. But I really don't have a sense of shame (I do have an overactive sense of guilt but these are very different things) and while I feel a little guilty about this morning's hijinks, they are possibility entertaining. And I prize being entertaining above all else. So here goes. To set the stage: when I got home from work last night, there was a notice on our door from CenterPoint saying "Please call to schedule an appointment." You see, "they" (CenterPoint, the City, the aliens?) have been doing work in our neighborhood for the last month or so. I don'...

In the days following Robin Williams suicide, Facebook (and I imagine other social media outlets but I am stuck in 2010) has exploded. I don't have anything enlightening to add to the conversation/ranting, and I am in no way an expert on suicide or depression. But I would like to suggest that even a life that has such a tragic ending probably (hopefully) had moments of joy, love, and even just contentment and pleasure. After his death, Williams' widow said: "As he is remembered, it is our hope the focus will not be on Robin's death, but on the countless moment of joy and laughter he gave to millions." No doubt that he gave those moments, but let's not forget he experienced some of them, too.  Whether its a job or a relationship or a life, just because it ends in a spectacularly bad or painful way, the ending doesn't negate the reality of the good or even mundane moments that happened. And again, not to minimize the suffering of depression or any illness,...

When I was a sophomore or junior in high school, I wrote a paper about Paul McCartney titled "Pizza and Fairytales." Sadly this relic is lost in the mists of time, but I remember it as a hand-written creation encased in a big pink folder with the title boldy etched with a Sharpie (this was in the days before word processors). I also remember that the title came from a Paul McCartney quote, but I just  learned from Wikipedia that it was actually a John Lennon insult to Paul, "You're all pizza and fairytales!" (Actually doesn't sound too bad to me, depending on the pizza and fairytales, of course). The point is, I've been a Paul McCartney fan for a long time...for about 30 years. Yikes! This summer I was lucky enough to see Paul's concert at Target Field (the second time I've seen him live). Even though we were in the "cheap" seats (meaning they were very far away from Paul but not actually cheap) it was amazing. Paul had such energy, s...

A second post about line memorization. So, how do I get all those words that aren't my own into my head? Like so many things about acting (and life in general) I've been surprised by how physical the process of learning lines is. I can't just stare at the lines until I magically absorb them, even if they are highlighted in a super pretty girly color. I have to read them out loud, and say them out loud, and eventually say them out loud while I'm doing something (like walking or doing dishes or curling my hair).  One time I mentioned to my friends Wanda and Sandy that people gave me strange looks when I sat in my car in the Target parking lot "doing lines." As you can imagine, Wanda and Sandy gave me strange and somewhat pitying looks...was this a really lame cry for help? Eventually I realized that "doing lines" was an Amyism not used by the general public in the way I meant it. For me, "doing lines" meant I was sitting in my car saying ...