Leavin' on a Jet Plane

Mom left this evening to head back to South Carolina.

And you know, I'm a little sad.  I'm surprised I'm a little sad, but after 10 days with someone, I guess you get used to sharing the same space.  You become accustomed to the extra paper towels wadded up on the counter, and the bathroom light being left on.

You get used to teaching someone all the cool things the iPhone can do, and come to enjoy the singing of random, original tunes throughout the apartment.

You find there are similarities between two of the people who love you the most, as they both make the coffee in the morning before they take Hank out for his first walk of the day.

You feel overjoyed when you see her face light up at your ultrasound appointment, and go to sleep smiling as you listen to her in the next room, negotiating for couch space with the dog.

You're incredibly proud when your friends meet and love her instantly, and are reminded of all the reasons you love her, too.

Mom may have left to go home today, but she's still here.  At least as long as I leave her last wadded up paper towel on the counter. :)

Love you, Mom.  See you in April.

Dim Sum and Then Some

Mom has been here for 9 days.

We've done a lot of home improvement, more baby shopping than we probably should have, and have dined out repeatedly.  We've slept in, watched TV movies, seen a play, gone to a doctor's appointment, walked Hank, and have had a fun-and rather normal-visit.

I was a little worried Mom may be bored, and wracked my brain to come up with cool things to do.

I'd envisioned taking Mom to Ellis Island, and finding a Minogue or a Quinn signature on some passenger list, Mom pointing at it with tears in her eyes, grateful that I brought her to this special place to make this special discovery.  It was going to be A Moment We Remembered Forever.

That didn't happen.  It was kind of cold for a boat ride.

I thought we could take a Circle Line cruise around Manhattan, seeing the city from an entirely new vantage point, Mom beaming with pride that we'd moved here, a la Mary Tyler Moore, and are Making It After All.

That didn't happen either.  Cold.  Boat.

I was Hell-bent on Mom having a definitive New York Experience, so today, her last full day in NYC, we ventured to Elizabeth Street in China Town for dim sum.  Dean and I have never been for dim sum since we got here, and my last attempt a year or so ago was thwarted, so TODAY was the day.  Like it or not.

Dim Sum is like a brunch of Chinese tapas- little plates of (mostly) delicious goodies, brought around to your table on carts and trays.  "Would you like some sticky pork buns?"  Yes, yes I would.  "Shrimp and seaweed?" Yes.  "Sticky rice?"  No, thank you.  Mom is still mastering chop sticks.  "A giant plate of bok choy?"  Indeed.

The thing about dim sum is that one waits outside on a crowded sidewalk for what feels like a really long time, before being called inside to finally eat.  You're given a number by the hostess, and they'll hopefully eventually call you before "One Hour" has passed (the standard answer for "How long will it be?"  And if you're clever, you can go to the other dim sum place next door, get a number there, and straddle the invisible line, straining to hear which place calls which of your numbers first.  Which is what we did.  In fact, another girl got called by one place first, and gave us HER number, so we doubled our chances of getting called.  But I digress.

Aside from a weird bite of something pork-like, we had great food, and a memorable New York Experience.  Waiting on the sidewalk, reading (not REALLY reading) all the Chinese signs, watching the array of people pass by, being offered fine counterfeit bags and watches on the street, smelling those little balls of fried dough for sale at street carts...it all added up to a fun afternoon.

Now, to finish all this leftover bok choy.

Matinee Beef

Today, Mom and I saw a matinee of the play, "Seminar."

The script was good, the actors were good, the set was pretty...all of it.  Good.

What wasn't good, you ask?  Why, clearly you know what to expect from MY blog, don't you?  You, Gentle Reader, recognize that complaining about something is infinitely more entertaining that talking about how much we liked a play.  So, thank you.  Thank you for reading- and becoming familiar with- my blog.

On to the griping.

1.  The seats at the Goldman Theatre are teeny tiny, which is fine spatially, because we are not "great big ol' fat people," to quote Silence of the Lambs' Jame Gumb.  What stinks (literally) about them is the proximity you are to your neighbor's smelly air.  This smelly air can come in many forms.  Today, I thought it was old lady farts, but it might have been horrendous rot breath.  Mom thought it was the stench of preteen B.O. from the kid in front of us.  In any event, we were close enough to smell air coming out of another person.

2.  There's a cute pre-show recording reminding people to not only turn off their cell phones, but to take a moment to check to be sure they're off.  What the announcement doesn't say, is "unwrap your freaking candy NOW."  What is about a play that makes people want to suck on hard candy?  This play wasn't "Oh, Calcutta," and it didn't take place in a lollipop factory, so nothing about the play itself would inspire people to rummage in their purses during the quietest part of the show and ssslllooooowwwllllllllyyyyyy unwrap a candy to suck on.  Awhile back, we produced a play where my character handed out candy to the audience, but I was smart enough to buy candy with soft, noiseless, paper wrappers.  I'm no dummy.

3.  Akin to the hard candy eater, there was the Plastic Bag Rustler.  Maybe his noisy candy was located deeeeeep in a noisy plastic bag, but again- make your noise before the show starts.  That sound carries, prompting strangers -whether or not they are former teachers- to "shush" you during the show.  You know, these bags are outlawed in Rwanda.  They are illegal, and will be taken away from you at customs if you try to bring them into the country.  Why can't we search people on the way into the theatre?  In college, I worked security at several concerts, and once got to search purses for pot and other contraband at the Metallica show.  I walked away with a pipe and a little weed...which I promptly turned over to the proper authorities.  Because at the time, we were all authorities on something.

There were other mild complaints: too many (very) late arrivals,  a handicap stall in a restroom whose main doors were too skinny for wheelchairs, and $21 double glasses of wine (overheard, and sadly, not ordered.)

But all in all, the show was great.

It's the audience who brought too much drama.

Where I Get It. So Get Used to It.

My friend Sam Pancake did a one man show called, "Sam Pancake and How I Got This Way."

This blog installment should be called, "My Mom is in Town, and That Explains a Lot."

Mom arrived this morning, and spending time together is like...well, spending time with myself.  Meaning, sometimes I see qualities in her that I realize -in that very moment- I possess myself.

These are typically wonderful qualities like generosity and care for others and helpfulness and adorableness, if I do say so myself.  And sometimes they are qualities like asking lots of questions and interrupting.

You may say, "Monica?  You don't ever interru--," and I'd say, "Interrupt!  I know, right?"

Or maybe you and I have hung out and I've asked pressing, important questions like, "Why would anyone buy a PT Cruiser," or "What did my cat just say?"  And perhaps, though highly unlikely, you rolled your eyes when my back was turned, or responded with an exasperated and non-commital, "huh."

Well, I am here to tell you...get used to it.  It's genetic.  And since my mom is awesome, these qualities are also awesome.  In time, you will find them endearing, just ask Dean and my stepdad Mike.

Or ask my kid in about 30 years.

By then he'll have stopped rolling his eyes behind my back.

Sharing the Love.

Yesterday, I gave my wedding dress away.

Even though there were tons of opportunities for me to wear it again (to our romantic beach getaway, to a renewal of our vows, to the grocery store), I made the supreme sacrifice and gave it to someone who could use it more than I could.

In fact, I think I gave it to a whole lot of someones.

A few years ago, Dean saw a blurb in a church bulletin in Columbia, South Carolina, asking for used wedding dresses. It turned out that there was a wedding dress rental business in Kibungo, Rwanda, and this South Carolina church was taking ongoing donations of dresses to send there.  The rental business is woman-owned, and provides employment opportunities for women who alter, clean, and store the dresses, as well as a valuable service for women who want to rent a traditional Western wedding dress for their special day.


Dean was intrigued, and saw the beginnings of a fascinating play in that blurb.  There were lots of questions:  Why Christianity, why the white dresses?  Why did these SC women feel such a passionate connection to this cause, and what made them travel multiple times to Rwanda in an effort to help?  How was Rwanda different after the genocide?  And there were lots of less serious questions, like what to pack?  And will there be a chance to hold a baby gorilla?

We learned that getting the dresses to Kibungo is prohibitively expensive, and the best way to transport them is to send them with someone who is already traveling there.  So yesterday, Dean left for two weeks in Rwanda with an extra suitcase filled with donated dresses, including my own.

It's neat to think that someone else-lots of other women, potentially- will wear it on such a special day.  My dress can help some women make a living.  Make a life.

My little dress served its purpose here.  I had a great time in it, and even got to wear it TWICE- once at the wedding and once at the party two months later. And I have lots of photos to remind me how happy I was wearing it on those days.

Passing it on to lots of women I may never meet is a pretty good feeling.

And since I couldn't travel to Africa, at least my dress could.

To Share or Not to Share?

I had a costume fitting today.  Two fancy movie costume designers were measuring me, pulling beautiful vintage dresses and coats for me to try on, and making idle chit chat while I stood there in my underwear.

And NO ONE asked if I was pregnant.

Apparently, my waist is still the same size it was pre-pregnancy, although my hips have gotten a couple inches...more ample.  My chest has gotten "healthier" too, but I'm not hearing any complaints about it.

Here's my question:  Do I have to tell people I'm pregnant?

I recently met with two lovely agents, who told me they'd seen my reel on my website, the very site you're reading right now.  To me, that suggested they'd read the TITLE of my blog, and already knew of my condition.  Last week, I asked a commercial casting director what his experience has been working with pregnant women, secretly hoping he'd say, "It's the BEST!  We can't get enough!  It's so hard to find real pregnant women for the LOADS of commercials that call for someone with a huge belly.  Putting a pregnancy pad on a really beautiful, talented actress just doesn't cut it."

But that's not what he said.

He said, "It's a problem."  And went on to explain that CDs want actors who can work NOW, not in 4 months or 6 months or a year.  That made my day!  I didn't want to cry AT ALL!

Tomorrow morning, I have an audition for a theatre's upcoming season, and the shows I'm interested in are in the fall, after the baby is born.  If I wear something to the audition that conceals my growing belly, do I have to say anything?

On the flip side, I have another audition tomorrow afternoon, with some very cool people whom I already know and respect.  I DID tell them, and explained I wouldn't audition if my pregnancy wouldn't gel with the vibe of the show, because I didn't want to take an audition slot away from an actress who might be better suited for the role.  And they said, "When would you like to meet? That sounds VERY intriguing."  Which really WAS cool, not the sarcastic kind of cool from before.

I don't have a wacky answer for all of this.  No funny tagline for this blog entry, no clever way of working it back to whatever I said at the beginning (hallmarks of my blogging.)  It's just a "hmmm" moment I'm sharing.

The bottom line is this:  I'm so excited and proud (I almost typed "round") to be having this baby, I feel a little strange NOT telling everyone, like I'm doing the little bundle a disservice.  But Mama's gotta work, and if somebody wants me to play Liz Lemon's mom in a flashback on "30 Rock," then mum's the word.

Pun intended.

(Examples in this post are purely hypothetical.  I am not on "30 Rock."  Yet.)

What's a Pregnant Actor to Do?

I'm in a pickle.  And right now it's the size of a cantaloupe.

So, I'm this New York actor now.  I'm in all the unions, I have some good NYC credits on my resume, a decent reel, relationships with some popular casting directors and agents, and a flexible schedule.

And I'm not able to work.

See, I also have a bun in the oven.  If you've been pregnant lately, you know that all those pregnancy websites describe your baby in terms of fruit.  Early on, it's the size of a poppyseed, then a blueberry, then an orange, a pineapple, and finally the size of the ever-popular jackfruit.  (All these fruits make me think about frozen cocktails, except the jackfruit.  If memory serves from my time in Australia, a jackfruit is incredibly stinky when you cut it open, not unlike a baby's diaper.)

You may say, "What about roles for pregnant women?  You could do those!"  To which I'd reply, "Oh, it's you!  The same person with the useful advice about not drinking too much water before I go to bed!  Why didn't I think of that?" And I'd smile sweetly at you, because you mean well, but there aren't a whole lotta roles like that.  Also, rehearsals (for plays, anyway) take a lot of time- my shape would completely change from the first day of rehearsal to the last night of a show.

You may say, "What about TV or movies?  That girl on 'The Office' was pregnant, and they wrote that into the show.  And those soap actresses just stand behind plants or carry a big purse!"

Believe me, I've been carrying some large tote bags lately, but my Window of Concealment is closing.  Hell, it may be closed by Monday.

Back to the question:  What's a pregnant actor to do?

Friends have made suggestions, and I have some ideas of my own.  Here they are in no particular order (Try to guess which ones are mine):

--  Befriend Tina Fey.  Have her write a sitcom about a pregnant 40-something year old woman, starring me.  Eat brunch together every weekend, and take sailing lessons together while the wind whips through our hair and we drink champagne.

--  Write a play.

--  Go on a quest to find the best frozen dessert in the city.  Leave no neighborhood unexplored.  Go back for seconds, just to be sure.  Then blog about it, and get Pinkberry, Ben and Jerry's, and Tas-T-Delight to sponsor the blog.

--  Take another improv class.

--  Teach Hank to say, "I love you."  Create a blog for Hank, and have him be discovered by network bigwigs.  Enjoy watching Hank's blossoming acting career while I stay at home with the baby, raking in the doggie paychecks.

--  Organize the data bases on our computers.

--  Experiment with a new hairstyle.

--  Shoot a series of videos wherein Pregnant Me tackles some very NON-pregnant situations, like auditioning for The Lion King, getting a part-time job at UPS, or learning the fine art of Japanese Massage.

If you have any other ideas, pass them along.  I've got about 20 weeks to fill until it's ShowTime.

And by then, Junior will be the size of a watermelon.

Pee and Blame

I woke up a little grumpy this morning, because I didn't get enough sleep.  Again.

Pregnant women pee all the time.  It's a stereotype, but it's true.  Some nights, I'll get up 4 or 5 times to pee, which really screws with what normal people call "sleeping." You may say, "Well, don't drink so much water before you go to bed."  To which I'd reply, "WOW!  That is a BRILLIANT idea!  Thank you for sharing your wisdom with me.  Problem solved."  (Then I would roll my eyes, because I'd be saying that sarcastically.)

There's science involved, my friend.  I have about 50% more blood coursing through me, and this makes my bladder fill up more often.  There's also pressure on my bladder from our little bundle of joy, and I just read something about the extra fluid in my legs having something to do with it too.

But I digress.

Our bathroom is two steps from my side of the bed.  I can take one step out of bed, pivot, take a half step, and be sitting on the toilet.  (New York apartments are tiny, not like what you saw on "Friends.")  I've perfected the middle of the night pee, and I've managed to perfect this maneuver to the point where I barely have to wake up to do it.  I keep my eyes closed the entire time. (Which reminds me of an unfortunate incident in kindergarten, when a classmate shoved me into a cinderblock wall, splitting my head open- all because I wouldn't open my eyes after a rousing game of "Let's Go to the Bathroom Like Blind People."  It was Montessori school, so it was a totally normal game.)

But I digress.  Again.

Keeping my eyes closed allows me to hang on to the dreams I was having before the Urge to Go struck me.  It makes it easier to get back to sleep, which is really important for pregnant women and humans who are alive.  But LAST night, my Sleeping Pee was foiled- nay, sabotaged- by an EMPTY ROLL OF TISSUE!  I reached for it, and nothing was there but a cardboard tube.

I swore out loud (a no-no when you're Sleep Peeing), but kept my eyes closed, and felt for a fresh roll under the cabinet.  I took out the little spindle, placed the roll on it, went to lock it into place, and...the whole thing dropped on the floor in the total darkness, the toilet paper and spindle rolling away in opposite directions, just out of reach and behind the door.

I swore again.  And had to open my eyes.

I felt around for the roll, hit my head on the corner of the open door, knocked my makeup bag into the trashcan in the process, and swore again before finally locating the roly-poly roll of paper and...using it.

I climbed back in bed wide awake, with a burning resentment for the only person who could have done this.  Dean had been the last one in the bathroom before bed, I remembered it clearly.  He was to blame, and if I was awake, then he should be, too.  I leaned close to his sleeping ear, and recreating the voice my mother used when she caught me smoking in the shower in middle school, I said, "Replace.  The.  Toilet.  Paper."

He was a little taken aback, but I felt mildly vindicated as I yanked the covers towards my side, sighed extra heavily, and tried to go back to sleep.

This morning we both woke up grumpy.  And then my grumpiness turned to horror, for I had been WRONG.

In my midnight bathroom frustration, I had lost count of how often I'd gone prior to the Toilet Paper Incident.  Yes, Dean was the last one to go before bed, but I had already gone 2 or 3 times before the TPI.  I was the saboteur.  I was She Who Should Not Be Named.  I had been (whispers) wrong.

The bed is the best place to be embarrassed, because you can just pull the covers up over your face while you wail your apology at the loved one you wrongly accused.  And if you're lucky, the Loved One will accept your "I'm SO SO SORRY," and still make the coffee and take the dog out.

Which is exactly what happened.

We've both learned a valuable lesson from all this.  Mine has something to do with jumping to conclusions, and his has something to do with earplugs.

It's a win-win.

Slowing it Down

I hate Slow Walkers.

For me, getting from Point A to Point B is a sport, and I've prided myself on being an Olympian in this event.  I look beyond the slow walker, scoping out the available spots, and planning my sling-shot navigation of the busy sidewalks.  I quickly gauge my speed and size and complete complex mathematical equations to quickly determine if I can dodge Fat Man with Suitcase and scoot in front of Foreign Tourist with Map, before slamming into Mountain of UPS Packages Sitting in the Sidewalk.

It is My Thing, and I'm great at it.  At least, I used to be- before I was pregnant.

Now, I have become the very thing I despise.  One of the most startling discoveries I've made in recent weeks is that my stamina has gone out the window.  While most people may not even notice I'm pregnant (though I do- none of my regular clothes fit anymore), my body sure as Hell knows, and reminds me when I get a little too full of myself.

After a few blocks of hustling and dodging, I get light headed and overheated, and I am forced to walk at the same pace as our elderly neighbor, Irene.  Actually, Irene is faster.  I can't lie.  I find myself keeping to the right on the sidewalk, out of respect for the fast walkers who are likely cursing me.  My timing is all off now, too- what used to take me 10 minutes now takes significantly longer.  And the stairs coming out of the subway?  Puh-leeze.  No more jogging up those bad boys.  I make good use of the handrail, and try to keep moving.

I started going back to the gym this morning, and have to slow it down there, too.  When some hardbody gets on the elliptical next to me, I can't secretly race her anymore.  I am forced to focus on my own workout- and on Kathie Lee and Hoda- and not compete with those around me.

Maybe that's the problem I'm having.  I'm no longer a contender.  I've had to pull out of the race, a race I was mastering, and now I'm an amateur.  A hobbyist.  A sideline commentator.

But I'm also Making a Human Inside of Me.  And that's a pretty good reason to slow things down.  At least the other contenders have a fighting chance now.

Viewer Mail

Adoring fans,

You've no idea how meaningful your cards, emails, and mysterious packages have been to me during this busy time.  I'd like to take a few minutes to personally address some of the mail I've received while this blog has been on hiatus, and hope that my personal responses will give you insight into who Monica really is- and in the case of IMWTCHNGU666, put an end to the doorstep poetry you seem so intent on leaving for me.

Let's dig into the mail bag, shall we?

Kippy from Toledo asks, "Although I live in Ohio and have never even heard of you, how do you learn all those lines?"
--Oh, Kippy.  If I had a nickel for every time I've been asked that question...I'd throw those nickels at your head one at a time until you asked a better question.  Next!

Mildred from Hell Hole Swamp asks, "Will you please come help me move?  I live in Hell Hole Swamp."
--Mildred, even though I feel your pain and fully understand how traumatic it must be to live in such a place, I am a professional actor, and do not help people move.  Unless, of course, it is to a fabulous country home with a guest room I might use later.  And only if there is pizza.  Sorry.


ParisMtScout asks, "I understand you've recently completed filming a major role in a new independent feature film.  Which do you prefer, acting in handcrafted films such as GET BETTER, or being in dumb plays?"
--I know this is you, Chris White.  I had a great time working on your film.  Now, please let other people ask some real questions.


Cindy Lou Who from Whoville asks, "If you could play any historical figure, who would it be, and why?"
--Finally, a real question!  Cindy Lou, I am particularly drawn to the stories of those less fortunate than myself- those who endure hardships beyond our wildest imaginations.  Those who battle the forces of evil and strive for goodness in this cruel, cruel, world.  I think the choice here is obvious- I would play Cindy Lou Who from Whoville, who battles the Grinch and saves Christmas.


"Wait.  That's me."
--Next question.


"And I'm four years old.  You're ten times my age."
--You LIE!


"I'm not a real person.  I said 'historical figure.'"
--Is there a breeze in here?


Ann from Cedar Mountain asks, "Why don't you get on one of those TV shows I watch?  Just call them and tell them you'd like to be on there- tell them you were on 'Army Wives.'  And are you eating well?  You need to keep your strength up- you get sick when you do too much, you know that.  And don't forget, Tommy's birthday is coming up."
--MOM, I will call you later.  


Kim K. from NYC asks, "I've got a beautiful wedding dress that I no longer need.  Could you use it in your next project?  And I wore it because I was REALLY in love.  And please come to my purse signing at Daffy's in Herald Square at 4pm."
--Kim, I actually COULD use your dress for an upcoming project.  My husband, playwright Dean Poynor, is writing a play that features wedding dresses very prominently.  Where can I come pick it up?


You can come to where I work.  It's on television.
--But where, exactly?


TV is everywhere.  
--But where do you work, so I can pick up the dress?


I'm on TV.


Looks like we're out of time.  Thank you all for your messages of encouragement- I will do my best to answer each and every one during my time here in Myrtle Beach.  And please, come see A CHRISTMAS STORY at Atlantic Stage, running December 2-18th.

Ooh!  A new message just came in!  Let's see what it says...

Dean from NYC asks, "Honey, where is the lint roller?  And I miss you."
--It's in the pet basket, and I miss you, too. :)

Alright, Alright...If You Insist.

Lately, some heard some complaints from my fans that I haven't updated my blog in awhile.  And by fans, I mean my parents.  

The truth is, I've been so busy doing some really awesome things, I just haven't had time to write about them.  And to some degree, writing about how awesome things are COULD be perceived as tooting my own horn, and contrary to what Dean might tell you, I don't like to toot.  I do, occasionally, poot- but that is a different blog.

Last week, we closed our short run of WHALES AND SOULS at The Flea Theater.  It was the first NYC production by The Salvage Company, the first full production of the show in the US, and it was great.  We had super houses, and we're keeping our ears open for opportunities to bring it back down the line.  Check out some production photos from our run (courtesy of Dean Poynor.)

In the midst of rehearsing WHALES, I agreed to take part in Primary Stages One Minute Play Festival, held at 59E59.  It was a hoot, with brand new plays by Neil LaBute, Tina Howe, Craig Lucas, Nilaja Sun, and many, many more.  I was in 5 of them, and in the course of the evening, I dragged myself across the stage without the use of my legs, forced my kids to swim with Tennessee Williams, spotted and ran from an approaching tornado, and said some questionable things as a sex-starved Maggie the Cat.  

In early October, Chris White came to NYC to shoot some scenes with me for his upcoming film, GET BETTER, and this Saturday, I head to NC to finish shooting the film there.  Check out the blog he and his wife Emily have about the film and their process.  Pretty moving stuff, and I'm honored to be part of it all.

I finish shooting GET BETTER November 7th, and then I travel to Myrtle Beach, SC to play the Mom in the stage adaptation of A CHRISTMAS STORY at Atlantic Stage.  Yep, it's the same as the movie, and I get to say, "You'll shoot your eye out."  Mindi and Thom Penn run Atlantic Stage, and are killing it on the Grand Strand with their fantastic work, and I'm so happy to join them.  I'll be there off and on through December 18th (thank you, Spirit Air!)  Hooray for friends and hooray for theatre!

So, that's what's been up with me, work-wise, anyway.  I could bore you with details about how my husband is phenomenal and talented, or how my dog is super well-behaved, or how I'm cooking up a storm lately in the kitchen, but I'll save personal life stuff for another post.  

Sorry, I tooted.  ;)

Aussie Observations

We've been in Cairns (pronounced CANS) for a week now, and start the long journey home tomorrow.  Very long, but that's another blog post entirely.

While we've been here, I've noticed some interesting things that Americans may not be aware of.  In no particular order, here they are.

1.  There are giant bats that fly around here, and they all live in the trees by the library.  They're knows as "Flying Foxes," because...they kind of are.  They're beautiful and eerie, and one of them pooped on our friend Eric the other day.

2.  There is a lot of instant coffee here.  Tons of it.  In the two times I've come here, I've not seen a coffee maker in a hotel, but I've seen lots of hot water pots for...instant coffee.  Also, people here will drink hot coffee or hot tea in the middle of a very hot day.  Walking along the Esplanade earlier, I saw many, many people enjoying a relaxing picnic with a hot mug of tea in their hands.  And it's 80ºF here.

3.  Bacon is different, more like country ham.  Not as crispy, but wider, and lots of it when you order it.

4.  There is no ketchup, but there is "tomato sauce," which is LIKE ketchup, but nothing like our tomato sauce.  It's more BBQ-y than ketchup.  But there is also BBQ sauce, so that's confusing.

5.  People refer to their significant others as their "partners," regardless of their sexual orientation.  In the US, I hear this a lot with gay and lesbian couples, but here, everyone uses it.  Pair this with the fact that few men wear wedding rings and it makes things confusing.

6.  Passengers ride in the front seat of taxis.  I took one last night, and as the guy who runs the taxi stand was loading people into cars, he always opened the front passenger door, rather than the back door.

7.  In addition to driving on the left side of the road, people WALK on the left side of the sidewalk.  This proves my theory that the people in NYC who don't keep right on the sidewalks are people who come from countries where they drive on the opposite side of the road.  In Australia, I am that annoying, walking tourist.

8.  There is virtually no free WiFi in Cairns.  It is pay-as-you-go, and slow if you're using a connection at a cafe or hotel, where you've got access to their password.

9.  There are no gummi bears, only jelly men.

10.  A surprising number of people walk around barefoot here.

11.  There is art everywhere.  Painted on the sidewalks, tiled onto buildings, mounted in parks...it's all over the place.  And Cairns is very kid-friendly, and wheelchair accessible, which is nice.  There's even a playground and a face painter at the local version of Home Depot, to keep kids occupied.

That's all for now.  I'll think of more to share...likely during our 14 hour layover in Sydney tomorrow.  Yes, you read that correctly.

But I won't be posting if I have to pay for WiFi.

MW

Our Radio Interview!

We are in Cairns, Queensland Australia, performing Andrew Kramer's one-woman show, Whales and Souls.  Yesterday, we had a great interview with Fiona Sewell of ABC Radio, and here is the link to it.

More bog posts to come.  It's a busy time, as we open TOMORROW on a double bill with La Mama Melbourne.

MWhttp://soundcloud.com/mawyche/whales-souls

Our Radio Interview!

I'm in Cairns, Queenland, Australia, performing Andrew Kramer's one-wman show, Whales and Souls.  There will be blog posts to come, but for now, please enjoy this interview Andrew and I had with ABC Radio in Cairns yesterday.  I think we sound pretty good, frankly.  :)

Wish y'all could see this show.

Oh, wait.  You CAN.  We're doing this show in NYC in October, so clear your calendars for October 19-23.  We'll be at The Flea Theater!!

MW

I Should Be Packing

In 9 hours, I will be on a flight to Australia.  In 6 hours, I will be in a car to take me to the airport.  In 5 hours, I will be weepy and Dean will be unable to pry me from around his neck.

And I haven't started packing yet.

I haven't even picked up the laundry yet.  I've not showered yet.  My To-Do list is long.

Don't get me wrong- I am so excited and very fortunate to be traveling to the other side of the world to perform Whales and Souls.  I'm thrilled to see old friends in Cairns, to bring these characters to life, to get to know my playwright friend Andrew Kramer better (22 hours of travel time should do it.)  I'm interested to see how the audience responds to the work there, and I'm excited to snorkel again on the Great Barrier Reef, and maybe even hold a koala again.

But you know, it's tough to leave your loved one for 11 days.  Tough to leave your cats.  REALLY tough to leave your dog.  It's tough to leave your kitchen and your mailbox.

So...what I have to remember is that I get to come home.  I get to do this amazing play in a far away, tropical place, and when it's all over...I get to come home.

And when I get back, I will not complain about walking the dog for a very long time.  :)

Talking to Myself...Again.

So, I have a LOT of lines to learn before I head to Australia next month.  Like, ALL the lines in the whole play.  LOTS. OF. LINES.

Usually, rehearsing scenes with other actors helps the lines stick in my brain.  Like when you hear a song over and over again, you eventually start to pick up the lyrics, right?

But what happens when the other actors in the scene are YOU?  When YOU are all the actors?  When you are in a scene with yourself (or selves, as the case may be.)

Enter the iPhone.  Have you seen that voice recorder app on there?  The one you thought was for grocery lists or to record that great screenplay idea you had on the train.  It's quickly becoming my best friend.  I recorded all 26 scenes of Whales and Souls as individual sound files, and can now listen to them as I run errands, ride the train, and...read my script.

Some people are visual learners, some are kinesthetic learners, and some learn by hearing things.  When I was teaching school, we recognized that the more ways you can impart information to a person, the more likely it is to stick.  Having a kid read a chapter on the civil rights movement is one thing, but having him watch "Hairspray" as well helps to drive the message home. (You see, it's about the civil rights movement...and DANCING!)

While I would love to watch "Hairspray" right now, I will instead be listening to the sound of my own voice for hours on end.  Like Dean has to do every day. (Ba-DUM-dum.  Enjoy the buffet, I'm here all week.)

Send me good thoughts.  Otherwise, I might be calling you to run lines with me.

Show Me the Funny

Long ago, I was in an improv group in Columbia, SC.  We were called the We're Not Your Mother Players, or more fondly, "The Mothers."  We were a cool group of funny people, and most of us are still friends to this day, at least on Facebook.  Articles were written about us, we graced the front pages of local newspapers, and some of our scenes are STILL being talked about today (Jesus' Birthday, anyone?)

Fast forward many years, and I find myself in NYC, doing what actors do to "get in the room," so to speak.  Taking the right classes, honing some dusty skills, that sort of thing.  While I have a lot of experience with improv, including seven years of teaching it to middle and high school students on a daily basis, it's nice to have a recognizable improv training program on my resume.  And here in NYC, though there are many good places, Upright Citizens Brigade is one of the best.  You can thank Amy Poehler for that.

Yesterday, I started Improv 101 at UCB with Ari Voukydis, and it's going to be so much fun.  We have 16 people in the class- all of whom really want to be there.  No lines to learn, no attitudes, just pure, sometimes-clean fun.  The 8-week class has a graduation show, so get out a pencil and mark your calendars!  Please join me at 2:30 pm on Sunday, September 11th.

Yeah...you read that correctly.  We'll be doing comedy on the 10th anniversary of the worst terrorist attack on American soil.  

I sure hope we're funny.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

(The recap above was for LAST week's show, but it was so funny, I had to share it here.)

Last night we wrapped up week 4/Cycle 3 of #Serials at The Flea, and once again, I had a great time.

For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, here's what happens:  5 teams each perform a 10-minute original play.  At the end of the show, the audience votes for their 3 favorites.  At the end of the weekend, the 3 teams with the most votes come back with Episode 2 of their show, while the 2 losing teams each have to start from scratch and come back with an entirely new show.  On Saturdays, there's a band, and everyone has a great time.

This week, I got to work with some brand new Bats, and get to know some of the older Bats better.  I've said it before and I'll say it again:  This group of actors is the most drama-free, supportive, smart group of people I've worked with in a long time.  Every person there takes their work seriously, even when they're wearing fake beards, fairy wings, or holding a giant puppet.  Even when they're saying lines that would get their mouths washed out with soap, or when they're doing a line dance.  Even then.

It's nice to be a part of something, especially in a city as huge as this one.  To have a place to go, a place with friendly faces and work to be done, and opportunities to be grasped...well, it's pretty great.  I feel really lucky these days.  Incredibly lucky.  And I plan to make the most of it.

Stay tuned.

Indie Film on the Horizon...

Filmmaker Chris White has cast me in his upcoming feature, GET BETTER.  (See photo above, featuring my fellow actors Robert Linder and Traysie Amick.)  His recent work, "Taken In," was just released this week, and he's currently on a 20-city tour promoting the film.

In GET BETTER, an adult daughter cares for her dying father...while helping him achieve a long-forgotten dream (that's where I come in.)  The film will be funny, heartbreaking, and ultimately life affirming.  Shooting will begin this October, and you can learn more about GET BETTER, Chris White, and the rest of his work by clicking HERE.

I'm excited to work with some of my favorite people...and some soon to be favorite people, I'm sure.

One Woman Goes to Australia

I'm heading to The Cairns Festival next month!

I am excited and honored to be returning to the Cairns Festival in Queensland, Australia next month, performing Andrew Kramer's one-woman fable, Whales and Souls.  In the play, a leader of a small, rural village is enticed by a large monetary offer that could change the town forever. Meanwhile, an unusual creature emerges from the lake with an ominous warning for the villagers. Whales & Souls is a gritty, sensual fable that examines the way we relate to the environment, ourselves, and each other. It was developed by Kramer under the terraNOVA Collective Groundbreakers Playwright's Group in New York City and is presented by The Salvage Company.  And I play ALL the characters.

Performances are August 26, 27, and 28th, and we plan to mount it in NYC when we return.  I'll keep you posted!