Happy…um…Halloween?

The TV show “Monk” is back on our block this week shooting another episode. Monk’s brother, played by the brilliant actor John Turturro is in the episode so they’re using our neighbor’s house again as the Monk childhood home which his mentally ill brother has not left in 35 years. Because Turturro’s character is an agoraphobic OCD hoarder the crew spent days filling up our neighbor’s house with stacks of newspapers and a lifetime of decaying possessions. In the previous episode they shot on our street, our house was home to a murderer who set fire to the Monk homestead. They’re not using the inside of our house this time, but because it’s supposed to be Halloween they’ve completely decorated all the houses surrounding Turturro’s. You should see the faces of the people driving down our street who slam to a halt when they see six houses decked out with hundreds of beautifully carved pumpkins, blinking ghosts, and flying goblins! There’s a life-sized monster on sentry duty at our front door that I desperately want to keep, and all sorts of zombies and ghouls in the graveyard they constructed on our front lawn. Can’t we please have a professional film company decorate our house for every holiday? No matter that they’ll always be around five months off!

There are signs all over the neighborhood directing the cast and crew to our street but instead of saying “Monk” they use the code name for the show. When I first saw the signs reading O.C.D. with arrows pointing to our house, I thought Kendall and my therapist had arranged a mental health intervention!

The best news is that we scored craft services in our backyard. Heaven! When I came home last night I found Emmy winner Tony Shalhoub in our backyard helping himself to chicken wings, freshly baked pretzels, and potato salad. My home office is just a few feet from the catering tent, so my goal is to become the world’s first Diva Editor of educational books. As I sit here finishing a manuscript called "Summarizing, Paraphrasing, and Retelling," I'll just stick my head out the window and yell to one of the production assistants, “WHERE’S MY DECAF LATTE, DAMMIT? GET ME A FRUIT PLATE AND A THESAURUS AND MAKE IT SNAPPY!” They’re mostly shooting after dark and yet they have a giant light outside our bedroom window that is as bright as a supernova. The blazing, eerie light shining through the slits in our curtains reminds me of something out of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” At 10 last night the neighborhood was full of costumed trick-or-treaters but because of strict child labor laws some of them were actually midgets masquerading as children. Only in L.A.

By the way, at that movie last night, an excellent and challenging French film called “Rois et Reine” by Arnaud Desplechin, I was dumbstruck when the college-aged ticket taker asked, “Are you a Senior?” “AM I SENIOR?!” I replied, my voice rising in inflection with each word. “Are you a Senior?” he repeated, staring at me blankly. “NO,” I said with an unpleasant little laugh, “I am NOT a Senior!” Please believe me, I am thrilled to be 45, and I cannot fathom why anyone would ever lie about their age as if there’s something shameful about getting older in this crazy, youth-obsessed culture. However, DO I REALLY LOOK 65? Oy, I need another latte and maybe a brownie—where’s that damn production assistant?

Comments

[Karen]

Oh, God, I wish WE had craft service outside right now, and we have CONNECTIONS! I LOVE THIS POST! I am laughing out loud! I can't think of a worse Halloween scare than the one that ticket taker gave you, but believe me (speaking as someone a scant month or so your junior), you would need a HALLOWEEN COSTUME to pass as a senior! All I have to say to her is BOO!

[Tamar]

Well, Danny, you've got me again - ROFL (my new learned expression) - literally - with heels kicking up towards the ceiling.

What am I doing reading your blog when I should be writing my book ... ?

[nappy40]

I am so jealous of you.

[Rurality]

I arrived here via a series of blog hops. I love your blog and your writing!

I'm 45 too. Having long since passed the age of getting carded at the grocery store, I live in dread of the first time I'm asked that question... Now you've got me worried that it's going to come much sooner than I expected!

Unlike you, I don't remember the JFK assassination - but I had just turned 4. My mother says I was upset that there were no cartoons on Saturday morning. She tells me that I said there was "nothing on TV but bad news". The day they buried him, my sister was born.