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.

Dogs Are a ... Squirrel's (?) Best Friend

Whoever’s idea it was to invite all of Richmond’s tail waggers to the ballpark last night is a genius. If you thought there could be nothing more fun than a mid-May evening baseball game, add a couple hundred dogs and you’ve got Bark in the Park. It should really be a weekly event.

I have neglected to mention the cutest member of my super foster family: Elvis. He is a rescue dog with possibly the most adorable face I have ever seen. He enjoys guarding the front door, daily morning walks with mom and dad, sleeping all day, and nighttime treats of pig’s ears and cheese.

In short, Elvis is such a good dog and just as loveable as they come. So when Kate suggested we take him out on the town to this hilarious-sounding baseball function, I couldn’t have been more excited.

There was one point of concern, however, and it had to do with the chosen mascot of Richmond’s minor league team: the Flying Squirrels. I’ll spare you the details of Elvis’ indiscretions with the furry creatures. Suffice it to say that Bruce sometimes brings an extra baggie on their morning walks in case there’s a corpse to clean up. Elvis occasionally contributes happily to the circle of life.

We took our chances last night and luckily, Nutzy, the mascot, nary made an appearance. He either took the night off or craftily stayed out of the three designated dog sections. Smart squirrel.

Anyway the night was a great success. The park was well equipped with pools of drinking water, duty-calls bags and dog treats. Lots of locals brought their pooches to the park. And it was a great way to mingle – for both two-legged and four-legged animals.

READ THIS: The funniest part of the night happened right when we arrived. Everyone rose for the national anthem and as the singing began about 15 dogs started howling along. Talk about a soloist’s worst nightmare!

Faster Than a Speeding Bullet

The top pictures are of Kate and me after the Carytown 10K yesterday morning. She’s just said to me, “Ew, you’re back is really sweaty.” Notice how her arms are in rocket ship position.

That’s right; we’re still standing (and smiling) after running 6.2 miles. The weather was gorgeous, the course was magnificent, and more than 1,500 people participated. What a perfect way to spend a Sunday morning.

Plus, the race coordinators did a fantastic job. They posted the times almost instantly after we crossed the finish line. And when I checked my email yesterday afternoon, they had sent me a congratulatory letter including weather conditions for my personal running records (ha!), as well as where I stood in relation to everyone else, amongst only the women, and within my age group. How organized is that?!

The bottom picture is of the blister on my left foot. I am debating on whether to perform surgery on it. I think I’ll leave it alone for now and see what happens. Blisters are tricky.

Pretzel, Anyone?

So, I understand that Bikram Yoga is not specific to Richmond, but I feel compelled to share my experience since my first encounter with Bikram took place here.

Now, I consider myself to be a fairly fit person. I’m not going to win any speed races or bodybuilding competitions, but I do work out on a regular basis and I would not call myself a stranger to the yoga mat.

My super foster family practices Bikram Yoga regularly. “You must try it,” they said. “You’ll love it,” they exclaimed. “You’ll do great,” they added.

Did I “do great”? No.

Did I “love it”? No again.

Must I have tried it? Well, I’m no expert on life’s necessities, but I probably could have gone an entire lifetime without it.

Does my attitude toward Bikram make me feel like a weenie? Perhaps, but I will say the people with whom I endured those 95 minutes (don’t try and pretend like it was 90 minutes as the schedule said – I can read time) are warriors. The sweatiest, most focused warriors I have ever encountered.

Allow me to recreate the circumstances that led me to my conclusions. Before class I met with the instructor who gave me some pointers. They may sound like stern rules to the inexperienced, but she assured me they were just helpful hints:

• Do not leave the room during the entire 90 minutes (ahem, 95 minutes) for any reason. I could feel my tiny bladder tensing up with anxiety.
  
• You may feel dizzy during your first session, so when that happens, sit or lie down on your mat and wait for it to pass. WHEN that happens?
• Don’t wipe the sweat from your face or drink any water for the first 25 minutes of class. The salty beads were already accumulating on my forehead.
  
• No talking. Hahahahaahahahaa! Oh, seriously??

I was getting nervous. This was going to be a challenge.

As we walked from the locker room to class, my friend examined my measly 24 oz. of water and let me know I should have invested in a bigger bottle. I could only pray that I would be passed out in a corner before thirst set in.

Walking inside the yoga room, I was assaulted by heavy, musty, cumbersome heat. It felt like someone had thrown a king-sized blanket recently drawn from a boiling cauldron of peanut butter over my body. It seriously must have been 120 degrees, though the thermostat only read up to 99.

We sat down without a word and class began shortly after. “Ninety minutes,” I coached myself. I can do this for 90 minutes. And I did. Ninety five, actually, in case you missed that detail. I twisted and stretched and bent my back in ways I never thought possible. I balanced and reached and probably lost about five pounds of water weight by the time it was all said and done.

I could possibly improve if I chose to attend class a second time. But as long as I live in America, I just don’t think that’s going to happen.