No, Thank YOU, Department of Motor Vehicles

Commonly, the DMV is synonymous with torture. In movies it is portrayed as the pinnacle of doldrums: flickering, fluorescent lights, a grimy scene washed in blue/green hues, a large room populated by the most dubious types, linoleum floors, beads of sweat, tapping feet, popping gum, screaming children, numbers called, general confusion.

I spent Saturday morning in this lovely setting, waiting for my number to be called. Finally (finally!) the glorious sound came over the loudspeaker: A-25! Valiantly, with hopeful anticipation, I marched up to the window only to learn that I did not have the proper credentials needed to renew my license. And upon further examination of the list of acceptable documents to prove my Virginia residency, I realized it may be months before I can obtain such a paper. Is my situation really that unique?

Twice I have done my hair and makeup for these people. Yes, this was my second foray into hell. What is the problem?? Is it me? It must be me.

And to the guy who sat down next to me for the five minutes I tried courteously not to move: Yes, the stench of booze and cigarettes IS detectable - even at 11:00 in the morning.

Adding to my misery: I am officially driving around with an expired license. Ugh.

On the plus side, I ride my bike to work. So there, DMV! Victory is MINE! Ha!

My Exodus from Youth

Do you like my green cardigan?



You know how there are those ages that seem slightly more momentous (read: horrifying) than the ones before it or the ones to follow? Well, that's how turning 29 has felt to me.

I'm happy to report nothing has changed. I have no new aches or pains; I'm no wiser than I was at 28; I haven't begun wearing mom jeans; I am feeling a little puffy, but that may have more to do with the copious amounts of wine I've consumed in celebration of the grand occasion.

Last weekend my mom came to visit. Part of the beauty of moving to Virginia is that it's only a short five hour drive to mom's house. We had a blast - more wine, of course. Saturday we went to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, which reopened in May upon completion of renovations. It was marvelous. We saw the Tiffany exhibit, which was exquisite - beautiful mosaics and leaded-glass windows. I wanted to tell the docents to just wrap everything up and put it in my car. No? But it's my birthday!

Next weekend I'm driving to mom's to attend a birthday party for one of her good friends. He turns 50 in November and has decided to celebrate the entire year. Now THAT'S what I call a party. You're my hero, Curt.

Doing My Part for Virginia's Infrastructure

The trouble with getting lost in Richmond is that there are many, many tolls. What should have been a mere $.70 quickly turned into a highway shopping spree. I just spent about $6.00 trying to get home from Target. I got so turned around I think I heard my GPS snort.

Luckily, I have the E-Z Pass, so it never feels like I'm spending money. And that little green "thank you" light is just so congenial. You're welcome, Virginia:)

Admittedly, I have been proud of myself for making it around so competently since I've been here. Mom gave me a Garmin GPS for Christmas, possibly the most inspired gift ever given. I named her Lucy and knew that we would quickly become best friends after my move to Richmond.

Lucy's usually great. My complaints are that she takes a long time to get her bearings and sometimes doesn't tell me to turn until we are rolling through the intersection. Really, Lucy?! Turn HERE?! Lately she's been stuttering a lot. T-t-t-turn r-r-i-i-i-ight on Fra-a-a-nk-nk-nklin; then t-t-t-urn l-l-l-e-e-eft. Lucy, are you okay??

If you know me, you may know that I have a hopeless, chronic affliction that can only be characterized as severe geographic idiocy. I am looking forward to really knowing my way around. But these things take time.

A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words

Incidentally, there is no picture to go with this post. I am slaving over three measly pages for my screenwriting course, which meets Thursday night. This is the fourth class in a six-week series and I am one of two people who have not yet submitted pages. I MUST have something for my classmates to tear apart with their vicious, judgmental teeth this week.

Actually, everyone is very nice and seems interested in contributing in a helpful way. It's just SO hard. It's way harder than I thought it would be. I know, I know...if it were easy, everyone would do it.

But here I am with a copy of M. Night Shyamalan's "Signs" in front of me, trying to fashion the first three pages of my floundering comedy into something other-worldly.

On the plus side, I suppose the difficulty means I'm learning something. And I'm enjoying it. Marginally.

Beating the Heat...Virtually

One race. Two adorable shirts. What a deal.

On your marks...

Done...and done


This morning Kate and I participated in the Richmond Fire Beat the Heat 5K. I was also running a virtual 5k sponsored by my dear friend Kat karlandkat.com. Are these shirts the cutest things you've ever seen? Incidentally, I fit right in with the yellow.

This is the type of multitasking I like to do. I essentially completed two races, but only ran one. Genius.

We finished in under 30 minutes, which I consider to be a great success. It was hot, but the course was shady and for some reason seemed mostly down hill. Strange, considering it was up one way and back the other, meaning at some point we must have been traveling uphill.

Holy Redneck Fraternity Party, Batman

The highly anticipated, zany "shrimp mustache" photo

Beer trucks = successful shindig

Cornhole: fun for the whole family

Electric Slide: need I say more?

Before all the seafood in the gulf (and at this rate, surrounding oceans) is obliterated by oil, we were fortunate to attend the Mechanicsville Shrimp Festival where we enjoyed a healthy plate of delicious sea fare and countless pints of refreshing, domestic beverages that poured right out of the side of a truck.

It was a college kid’s dream. Budweiser said, “Ha!” to the measly keg and found a way to distribute several different kinds of beer to several different kinds of people all at one time. It was glorious!

But I digress…the seafood was outstanding. Each plate weighed about two pounds and was piled high with boiled shrimp (served chilled), hushpuppies, fried whitefish (yummm) and coleslaw. I felt so guilty throwing away leftover shrimp, but there was honestly no way any self-respecting human could have stomached that much chow. I assure you, no Shrimp Fest attendee went hungry this year.

To burn off some of those calories, there was a dance floor with a live d.j. and several games of Cornhole going. The cost of all this fun, you ask: 20 clams (see what I did there?).

If BP can get its top hat on straight, I will definitely attend in 2011. I’ll let you know if anyone goes hungry next year.

It's Not Facebook Official Yet...

...but I think I got a job. In fact, I think I got THE job! That is, working at the VCU School of Dentistry as a dental assistant. But then, who wouldn't want to hire this professional? She looks so trustworthy and ethical. Thank you, Liza, for my entire ensemble. You are the smartest dresser I know. I think it was Mark Twain who said, "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society."

If I understand correctly, I will have my own little operatory where fourth year dental students can treat patients in a simulated private practice. It will be an exercise in time management and the students' getting an overall idea of what it might be like when they have their own practice.

I'm stoked. It sounds like such an interesting job. Plus, technically, I will be a state employee, which my dad is thrilled about. He has always maintained that government jobs are the best based on the benefits (and perhaps job security?).

In other news...I have lots to post. I have neglected my blog and my many followers, but I do have several Richmondian events to report on. It may not happen this weekend, but it will happen. Teaser: one picture involves me holding up a piece of shrimp as if it were a mustache. Hilarious, no? I can think of few things funnier than a shrimp mustache.