I saw the most adorable family yesterday in the hotel lobby.  I was waiting to check in when they stumbled in.  Poor Mom and Dad were clearly exhausted and nearing the end of their rope.  Their oh-so precocious 4-year old was a ball of energy, however – but not in an obnoxious 4-year old sort of way.

He was chatty and engaging and asked a lot of questions.  Mom and Dad tried to keep up.  I don’t remember ever having THAT much energy or asking THAT many questions.

We all arrived at the elevator at about the same time.  The kid immediately locked eyes with me and said, “Hi.”   I said hi back.  I noticed his speech was a little fuzzy and spotted two very large, almost bionic-looking hearing aids around each ear.  Once in the elevator, I committed the cardinal sin by pushing the button to my floor.  Seems when you’re in pre-school that is the highlight of your day.  I quickly recovered by telling him to push ALL the buttons.  (Mercifully, there were only five floors.)

He looked at his parents and back at me like I was some sort of saint.  The parents and I had a good chuckle.  They were a close-knit Hispanic family … polished and professional.  Even though we only rode a few floors up an elevator, I could tell this family had an immense amount of love and respect for each other.  24 hours later and I can’t get them out of my head.

I saw them one last time before I left in the morning.  They were downstairs having breakfast.  The kid paused from eating his cereal when he saw me.  He immediately waved.  And loudly announced he was four years old and was staying on the FOURTH floor.  4 years!  4^th Floor!  Coincidence?  Not to this child.

I immediately scrapped my eggs and bacon and had a big bowl of sugar-y, multi-colored cereal.  Seemed to me like it was a good day to be a kid again.

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I really don’t mind working long days.  On a TV or film set, you spend 82% of your time waiting around for something to happen.  There’s an immense amount of downtime.  Thus, working 12-14 hours – while tedious – isn’t exactly grueling.

That is, unless you’re in FRONT of the camera.

I forgot how taxing it is to go from being off (sitting around waiting for the crew to get ready) to being on (LIGHTS!  CAMERA!  ACTION!)  I liken it to running sprints.  You go as quickly as humanly possible trying to dazzle your director and nail your lines.  Then, comes two hours where you lay around propped up by a couple apple boxes.  Just when you’ve gotten relaxed, the director calls you back to the set.  After about four or five of those “sprints”, I’m ready to sleep 22 hours.  In a row.

You’ll note in most of my Halls’ performances, I’m equally charming, engaging and downright gregarious.  Am I like that in real life?  Sometimes, but never to that exaggerated degree.  It’s called charisma … and it’s exhausting.   And a little nauseating.  By the end of the day, I’m so tired I barely have the energy to drive home.  Either that or I’m so incensed at being “perky” all day, I want to kick a puppy.

The “Little Black Dress” segment was the last shoot of a lengthy day.   You can tell I’m desperately trying to give it one last “oomph”.   Case in point … I never drink soda.  But I proceeded to guzzle one over the lunch hour to keep me frosty.  Big mistake.  By the time some of these scenes rolled around, I was crashing from my sugar high.  And why I’m talking in a faux-British accent (with shades of Suzanne Sugarbaker), I’ll never know?  Clearly, not my best performance … but it’s the one getting the most rave reviews.

Women covet their little black dresses.  I’ve had more women tell me their favorite outfits were often the simple, elegant ones.  And in this particular segment you learn how to take a simple cocktail dress from happy hour to late evening to a donut shop that turns into an underground Brazilian drag bar around 3:30am.  (Yes, it exists.  Don’t ask.  It’s a lot like Fight Club … but with sequins.)

Black is slimming.  Black is forgiving.  Black is sensible.  Black is demur, tasteful and stylish.   Be good to yourself, ladies.  It’s time to invest in a new little black dress.  And, for the love of God, get some new shoes to go with it.  You’ll thank me later.

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