Pomelos and stripper poles

Friday I got to visit my second film set, though this time it was a location shoot instead of a studio set. And can I just tell you, I am amazed at what people will do for enough money. To let people, complete strangers to be honest, into your house, and not just in but take over your house, that's something. I couldn't imagine. Because I was one of those complete strangers.

The set we were on was a house. Strike that. It was a mansion. No, more like a museum. In a gated community with a guard, in a little house, who asks you what you're up to when you walk in. No joke. It's a community I walk by literally every day but I never gave much thought. Until I walked in Friday afternoon. The house that was being used for the shoot was a screenwriter's house, which I thought was pretty cool even though I'm not a big fan. Just not my type of movies, and I was a little young when some came out. But I have one in my stack to watch and I will watch it, I'm very curious now. He must be good. He lives in a museum.

But the house, first off, it was gorgeous. It was full of different types of rooms and that spaciousness that only comes from being old. I love old houses. I grew up in one and live in one now. There's something about doors that stick and closets that don't quite close tight. And this house was no exception. I loved the leather wall paper, the beveled glass in the windows, the old fashioned refrigerators, the studies, the books, the closet full of closets, the guest house that was bigger than my two-bedroom. It was amazing. And completely overrun by a film crew.

There was cardboard on walls, furniture stacked on top of furniture, lights in every window, banks of video screens, cameras, tons of people and tents and just, wow. To see what goes into a location shoot that lasted two days that will only be seen in a few scenes of an hour-long television drama. Amazing. (And oh yeah, on the third floor, there was a stripper pole. No joke.)

And there I was, just hanging out in the middle of it all, eating grapes, laughing about pomelos the size of kickballs (and yes, I ate some and no, it wasn't bad) that fell off the neighbors tree, and loving the heck out of my life at that moment. I met some really cool people, including Jaime Murry, who was the psycho girlfriend (her words mind you) on Dexter last season. Oh, and I shared an orange with Mark Harmon. Seriously. Words cannot express my smile. Still. Today. Three days later.