It's been raining a lot around here and I haven't minded one bit. I can't think of many things I like better than taking a nap in the middle of a rainy afternoon; opening my window just a crack so I can fall asleep to the sounds of thunder and rain. I couldn't get more chill if I tried.
But this morning, after days and days of absence, the sun peeked her head out from behind a particularly dense cumulonimbus and said, "Suzy, you lazy cow! Go outside!"
You don't mess with the sun.
So I went to visit my friends, Brad and Theresa, at their little paper shop on 13th. I parked a few blocks away and walked (to appease the sun), but upon rounding the corner at Rae street a man in an orange vest stopped me.
"Sorry, ma'am. You can't get through this way."
I doubled back and through a back alley, undeterred, curiosity piqued. When I get out of the house, dressed and decent, baby in tow, on a very specific mission at 9 AM, there is no stopping me. I peeked out from behind the Burns & Hanley building across the street. There were orange pylons and cop cars and big trucks and cameras and people and lights and sound equipment. I was very pleased.
A movie set.
I love movie sets. I live in a tiny little city in the middle of the prairies, so I don't come across them very often, but when I do you better believe I'm right in there. As a kid I imagined walking by a movie set and having everything come to a screeching halt. The director would yell, "CUT!!! WHO'S THAT GIRL? I WANT HER IN THE MOVIE INSTEAD OF MARY KATE!"
And then I would blush and say, "Who, me?" And a tall man with sunglasses would appear at my side and say, "Hi, I'm your agent." And there would be a folding chair with my name on the back of it. And a bowl of raspberries in my dressing room.
Anyway. I'm all grown up now and so I know better, sort of, but I still get a little kick out of walking by a movie set. It's where the action is.
The best thing about this particular movie set, though, was that the action was all happening on the front steps of the Paper Umbrella. Fancy that.
I've always ascribed to the rule that you can get away with being somewhere that you're unauthorized to be if you look sure of yourself. I strode out from my hiding place with a smile on my face. A man with a headset and a Corner Gas hat spotted me and asked me to leave. Dang.
But then I spotted Brad, standing right in the thick of things. I pointed at him. "Oh, I'm with him." Sort of true, since I'd come to see him, and foolproof because who can't you kick off the set of a movie? The guy who owns the set. That's who.
Headset guy smirked at me. He smirked at me. "Riiiight..."
Brad looked up and noticed me just then and jogged over. He gave me a side hug. He said hi to Sullivan, who was sitting on my hip looking intently at all the commotion. Headset guy skulked off. I was safe.
Theresa came along just then with their son. We spent the morning watching the movie guys shoot the same scene over, and over, and over. The girl forgot her lines. Take 4. The sun was too sunny. Take 6. Can we adjust this flower pot? Take 48.
No one asked me to be in the movie, but I was okay with it. I just like being around.
PS: If you happen to see the Corner Gas movie, look for me reflected in the windows of the Paper Umbrella Theatre. They'll probably edit me out, but I tried.