CSI: Miami's Emily Procter Will Hide Real-Life Pregnancy

Open car doors. Cardboard boxes. Maybe a cadaver or two.

Many are the ways Emily
Procter plans to hide her pregnant belly this season on CSI:
Miami. The actress, who plays CSI Calleigh Duquesne on the hit
CBS drama, is expecting her first child with musician Paul Bryan early
in December. She broke
the news to TV Guide Magazine on Monday. "We played around
with the idea of my character being pregnant and the general consensus
was, a pregnant woman shooting people might freak our audience out." And
so, Procter plans to duck and cover. "We shot a frantic scene this week
where people were running to escape," she says. "I just stood behind
the biggest guy I could find."

Procter says she'll only miss two episodes and has no plans to leave
the show: "As long as I can get my butt back in the gym," she says with a
laugh. It helps to have a supportive cast, she adds, particularly since
"standing around in heels all day is much harder than I expected." What
surprises her most is how sympathetic the men on the show have been.
Says Procter, "You'd think a bunch of tough guys wouldn't really know
what to say to a pregnant woman, but all the boys have been so sweet and
cute — 'Can I get you anything?' 'Need to sit down?' — I think I might
pretend to be pregnant even after the baby comes!'"

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Kenny's Private World

Kenny Chesney leans back against the downy white pillows on the window
seat in his upstairs bedroom as a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean
stretches out behind him. "I love the sunsets," Chesney says of his
Malibu property, which is nestled high in the canyon hills within sight
of Catalina Island. "The view is amazing, and I just love being able to
sit out here and watch the sun and the ocean."


It's the kind of relaxing, peaceful pause that the hardest
working man in country music rarely affords himself. Famous for his
take-no-prisoners touring schedule—he is one of the top ticket-sellers
in the U.S., having played for more than one million fans each year
since 2001—Chesney, 40, has found a sense of renewal in Malibu. Unlike
the Caribbean, where he also owns property, California doubles as both
a private retreat and a music haven with historic roots. "This is just
such a creative place to be," says the reigning CMA and ACM Entertainer
of the Year. "You can feel it out here—you think about the music that's
come out of these canyons, this stretch of ocean highway: Buffalo
Springfield, Jackson Browne, the Eagles, Joni Mitchell, Van Halen...You
get a sense of how vast it is and you get inspired."


Energized by his time there, Chesney seems more eager than
ever to do what he loves most. After a successful summer and fall he is
already working on his new show, which will kick off rehearsals in
February. As for his next album, "every morning, I'll pull my guitar
out and see if she talks to me," he says. "I'm working on some new
stuff."


But it's not all work. Chesney also has hosted visitors in
Malibu, including girlfriend Amy Colley, 24, a Nashville-based
burn-unit nurse who is a former Miss Tennessee U.S.A. "She's very
smart," says Chesney. "She has her own life and she's very comfortable
in her own skin. That helps." And he is making the most of California
living, grilling in his outdoor kitchen and regularly biking 25 miles
up the Pacific Coast Highway. "For the first time in a really long
time, I went to the grocery store," he says of the privacy Malibu
affords its celebrities. A sushi lover, Chesney is also keen on another
Malibu tradition: dining at hot spot Nobu. In late 2008, Chesney came
into the restaurant with pals and spotted U2 guitarist the Edge.
Chesney, a huge fan, didn't want to bother the rocker but left him a
note instead. The next time Chesney came into Nobu, there was a note
waiting for him from the Edge offering praise for Chesney's "luminous"
music.


And yet Chesney rarely settles in one place for any length of
time. In fact, although he only bought the $7.5 million Malibu home in
2008, he already has plans underway to sell the estate and rent a home
down the beach. "Out here, I can hang with people who understand my
life, who have that kind of life," he says. "And I have a lot of
friends here."


Those friends include Eagles alum Joe Walsh, rocker Eddie Van Halen, music producer Rick Rubin and Desperate Housewives star Eva Longoria Parker, who popped in for a barbecue last fall. He is also close with CSI: Miami
star Emily Procter, his pal and—get this—official decorator. (She
helped style his home in the U.S. Virgin Islands, too.) "Kenny is a
sensualist," says Procter, 40. "He likes to have luxury that is
comfortable and not too stiff."


With that in mind, Procter calls her theme for Chesney's
Malibu spread "Nassau meets Nashville," with its English Colonial feel
of white against dark wood. "He likes dark wood and yet he wants it
beachy," she says of his taste. He also likes his flat-screen TVs—the
more, the better, including a retractable screen at the foot of his
massive mahogany bed and one he can watch from his bathtub. "You can
literally watch TV from just about anywhere in the house," says
Procter. "Anyone who knows him well knows he really likes watching
football with his friends. He loves being social and entertaining."


Still, Chesney never stays away from his first love—performing
and writing music—for long. After his February Grammy performance he'll
gear up for his summer tour, leaving the quiet Malibu lifestyle behind,
for a while, anyway. "Music has marked every major event in my life. It
still marks where I am, what I'm doing," he says. "It makes every
moment more. I don't know if I can be that for other people, but if you
ask me what all this is about...at the end of the day, that would be
it."

CSI:Malibu at Ginger Rue

CSI: Malibu

Sometimes as a freelancer, you get the coolest gigs ever.  Such was the case for me when I got to travel to Malibu to interview Emily Procter,
star of CSI: MIAMI, for the August cover of GUIDEPOSTS magazine.  We
did the interview the same day as the photo shoot, and let me tell you,
everyone there was completely taken with Emily.  She is unbelievably
sweet and fun to be around–plus, she had a really great story to tell. 
She’d really spent a lot of time thinking about how she wanted the
story to take shape, which made my job a breeze.   I thought you might
enjoy some behind-the-scenes pics from the shoot.  Read Emily’s story
at http://www.guideposts.org/celebrities/csi-miami-star-emily-procters-inspiring-story

Southern girls represent! Stylist Lauren Sample is from Mississippi, Emily's from North Carolina, and I'm from Alabama.

 

Emily overlooking Malibu Beach

Shooting on the beach

Photographer Jack Guy is amazingly talented.

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EXCLUSIVE: Emily is pregnant

CSI: Miami star Emily Procter, 41, is expecting her first child with musician Paul Bryan, 43, her rep confirms exclusively to TV Guide Magazine.

According to CBS, Procter's pregnancy will not be written into the upcoming season of CSI: Miami, premiering Sunday, Oct. 3 at 9/8c.

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New photoshoot by Elisabeth Caren

pictures on Elisabeth Caren's official site

guidepost.org: What Inspires Emily Procter

What Inspires Emily Procter

The CSI: Miami
actress recounts the story of how she finally found happiness in Los
Angeles, and who helped her get there.

By
Emily Procter, Los Angeles, California

I've lived in Los Angeles for 18 years, and for the past eight, I’ve been blessed with what actresses dream of—a starring role on a hit television show, playing Detective Calleigh Duquesne on CSI: Miami. I’m comfortable here now, content with being my down-to-earth southern self in a tough and glitzy business. But I wasn’t always.

There was a time when I was starting out that I was really struggling. Not so much with acting—I was getting enough work doing guest roles and TV pilots to pay the rent—but with how unmoored I felt. I’d moved to L.A. after college and I knew there’d be an adjustment. I just hadn’t counted on how hard it would be.

Life out here was nothing like back home in North Carolina, where all of my family was, where I’d had the same friends since kindergarten, people I could count on. Even after four years in L.A., I still didn’t know who I could trust. I felt lonely. And a little lost, as if something was missing from my life.

So far my closest relationship was with my cat, Kevin. He was rescued as a newborn from a hole in the wall—literally—of a friend’s old beach shack. From the get-go, he was gentle and sweet and had this calm about him that I only wished I could find. It was like his rough introduction to the world hadn’t closed him off but rather opened him up. He’d come when I called and flop onto his back so I could rub his belly. He’d even jump into the bathtub with me. Kevin was the picture of contentment. How could I help but fall in love?

Still, in the fall of 1996 it hit me that except for taking care of Kevin, my days were all about me. Was I thin enough? Did my hair look right? Did I prepare enough for my next audition? Where was my career going? I really need to take the focus off myself and do something for someone else, I thought.

I could almost hear my mom saying, “Go for it!” My parents were big on helping others—my dad was a doctor, my mom volunteered at a home for people with AIDS, and we were always signing up for service projects at church. When I heard about the soup kitchen at All Saints Episcopal a few blocks from my apartment, I decided to volunteer.

Monday lunch was my shift. Every Monday I’d put on my green corduroy overalls—for some reason, that became my serving-line outfit—and walk up Bedford Drive, cross Wilshire Boulevard, then turn right onto Santa Monica Boulevard to get to the soup kitchen.

I kept noticing the same guy at the corner on Wilshire. A homeless man in a wheelchair. He was in his fifties and sat quietly in his shorts and red windbreaker, reading. He didn’t hassle people, just said thanks when someone dropped money into his cup. I’d say hello, but that was it. He seemed reserved, and I wanted to respect his privacy.

But one Monday in December something made me stop and say, “I work at All Saints soup kitchen. Want to go with me and get lunch?” He looked up at me with these bright blue eyes and said, “Yeah!”

“I’m Emily.”

“Jim.”

I grabbed his wheelchair and started pushing, but I couldn’t maneuver it in my clunky clogs. “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m not going to be able to get you there today…not in these shoes.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m going home for Christmas, but I’ll be back. We’ll go the first Monday after New Year’s,” I promised.

“Okay,” he said, but it seemed like he didn’t believe me.

That Monday after New Year’s I put on tennis shoes and ran to Jim’s corner. There he was in his red windbreaker and wheelchair. His eyes got really twinkly when he saw me. “All right!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go.”

I wheeled him to the soup kitchen, got him settled with some food, then took my place in the serving line. After lunch we went back to his corner. “I’ll meet you here next week,” I said.

That became our little ritual every Monday. I’d pick him up at the corner and we’d head to the soup kitchen. We talked a bit, but mostly we just enjoyed each other’s company. It was a relief not to get into the typical Hollywood conversations—What do you do? Who’s your agent? What roles are you up for?

One day about three months after we met, Jim seemed more serious than usual. He took my hand and pressed some money into it. Forty dollars. What’s this for?

“I want to tell you something,” he said. “I think you’re very pretty, but you need to buy a new outfit. I saved up this money.”

I realized every time he saw me I was wearing my green overalls! “Jim, I didn’t get around to telling you, but I’m an actress. I have other clothes.” We had a good laugh.

Our friendship grew from there. When I didn’t have an acting job or auditions, we’d have breakfast at a place across the street from his corner. We’d sit and talk about our childhoods, our families, our experiences. Well, Jim shared his life wisdom with me because it wasn’t like I’d acquired much yet.

Once I asked Jim, “Were you in Vietnam?” I’d assumed he was a veteran, so I was surprised when he said no. “Then how did you end up in the wheelchair?”

“Emily, ending up in this chair saved my life. So I don’t want you to feel bad about what I’m going to tell you.” He went on. “I was a terrible alcoholic.” During a binge, he got into a fight and was beaten into a coma. When he came to, he realized, “God stood by me even when I wasn’t standing by me.”

He wanted to make the most of the second chance he’d been given. He quit drinking. He read every book he could get his hands on. He couldn’t afford regular therapy appointments, but there was a nighttime radio show where the host was a therapist. Jim called in every night for two years and worked through his issues.

The closer we’ve gotten—and we’ve been good friends for almost 15 years now—the more I see that Jim really lives by the advice he once gave me: “If you don’t like the way your life looks, change the way you look at it.” He’s more content and at peace with himself and with the world than anyone I know—well, except maybe my cat.

Jim listens without judging and tells you not what you want to hear but what you need to hear. He savors every moment, even the struggles, because they often turn out to be  blessings. Like the time I felt lost and lonely and set out to do something for someone else. And look what I ended up finding—the contentment that had been missing from my life…and the inspiration for how to live it.

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guidepost.org: What Inspires Emily Procter - pictures

credits:
Audrey Razgaitis for guidepost.org