Ode to a Walking Companion

Take me to the river, dip me in the water.

My new walking buddy, the one I met through my blog, had suggested another trek, this one along the North Bank Trail, which I hadn't walked in ages. We met at the O-Hill overlook like old friends and set out, talking all the way.

She told me about her business trip to New Jersey while I shared my recent ocean adventure. She's off to the Outer Banks soon and we bonded over old beach cottages with cross breezes and open windows.

Without even discussing it, we both climbed aboard Bubba's bench when we reached it, drinking in the view of the rapids and Belle Isle. Not everyone "gets" Bubba's, but she does.

Since our last walk had been the pipeline walkway and then on to Chapel Island, we hadn't done any real trail walking together yet, but we turned out to be more than compatible. Every short-cut slope I suggested, up or down, she agreed.

When we got close to Texas Beach, I was bowled over to see a new wooden trail walk where there used to be some boards and logs you had to balance yourself on to get across that muddy swath. I'd seen some family groups turn back rather than attempt the makeshift balance beam. Now it's wide, flat and safe, albeit totally without personality.

At Texas Beach, we found a couple on the rocks, a young mother and children spread out on a blanket and a girl in a bikini reading on a rock out in the water. We took off our shoes and socks and began making our way out into the James, our cooling reward after the heated slog through the riverbank's overgrowth.

The rocks underwater were slick and my friend headed down before catching herself, although wisely, she was wearing linen pants which dry quickly. We waded out into the river, immediately feeling our core temperatures dropping, and admired the peaceful serenity of the un-peopled view.

Gazing out at the river, I was disappointed to see that all the Japanese-looking piled rock sculptures that adorned the furthermost rocks last summer were gone. What a shame.

We talked as much as we walked on the way back - what a small town Richmond is (especially when it comes to online dating), the pleasures of house and dog-sitting (central A/C and two warm bodies in bed with her), Broad Appetit (we'd both gone alone) - pausing only when a passing screechy train made it impossible to hear each other.

As always, the walk back seemed far shorter than the walk there and I was soon saying goodbye to my friend as she set off to grocery shop and I headed home on Pine Street to scope out the progress of the ICA building on the corner of Broad.

Passing a guy in a hard hat by the site, I smiled and he returned it, saying, "Walk a mile for me, will you?" Explaining that I was closing in on six miles already and almost home, I said I could only do a half mile for him. He accepted my offer, I waved farewell and kept going.

As I approached the corner, from behind me I heard him calling, "I'd walk with you if I had time. I really would." And I'd take you up on that if you did, given how sincere you sound.

All I ask is that you keep up. I might even slow down just a tad just because it's such a treat to have company on my walk.

But it's most satisfying, like today, when I don't have to.

Digging for Date Details

With spring fever hitting Richmonders hard today, my friend and I knew better than to think we'd be able to eat outside given our delayed start on lunch.

So we went to Lulu's toward the end of lunch hour, knowing we'd be assured of an indoor seat. We'd gotten such a late start because my friend had spent the morning dozing off and on because of a recent cold. I'd finally called him around 12:45 wondering if our plans were still on.

Given the short period between him getting out of bed and our arrival at the restaurant, the first thing he asked for was coffee. Our server, who had pink flowers in her hair ("I'm not a real blond and the flowers are from the Dollar Store" she informed us), inquired if he wanted sugar.

He requested the packets of fakeness instead. "He's trying to hurry up and get cancer," I told her, because I always tease him about using that crap. "Aren't we all?" she smirked. Um, not really.

He ordered the beer-battered fish and chips with mashed peas and I got the house-smoked chicken, mixed greens, avocados, toasted pecan salad with citrus-herb vinaigrette, knowing full well that my friend would share his fried goodness.

My salad was both more and less than stated. The greens weren't mixed but they were all pea shoots, something I love. And it was full of unbilled citrus segments, both orange and grapefruit. It was a perfect meal for a 75-degree day.

Friend's fish and chips were beautifully battered and fried up and I gladly gobbled up the three proffered pieces. Apropos of nothing, a nearby bar sitter shared a joke with us about male and female brains (let's just say it had to do with the male brain calling to the female from south of the belt line).

From that opening, my friend segued into what I'd been up to lately. I rambled off a few of the more interesting things I'd done recently while he gazed at me expectantly. "So what have you been up to?" I asked in return.

"What about your all-day DATE?" he about burst out, referring to the other day, here. Ah, so he'd read my blog and was testing me to see if I was going to share the "details not forthcoming" parts. "Where'd you go? How did you like him? Did you kiss?'" You know, the stuff girlfriends are supposed to ask you.

I guess I should just be satisfied that he reads the blog in between our lunch outings, which have gotten far less frequent now that's in love and cohabitating with a terrific woman.

When our flower-bedecked server asked if we wanted dessert, we did the standard comedy routine where he shook his head yes and I shook mine no. "Since when don't you want dessert?" he asked. Okay, we'll look.

Nothing caught our eye, although my friend had been coveting the Twizzlers our server had next to the register. When she asked if we wanted something, I told her that my friend wanted some of her Twizzlers.

And don't you know when she brought him his second cup of coffee, she brought a ramekin full of Twizzler bits too? I'm not a fan, but he insisted I have one. Biting into what felt like soft plastic, I asked him, "What exactly do you like about these things?"

"The waxiness," he beamed. "And how artificial they taste." Our server overheard and came over to high-five him on that one.

"I love the waxiness, too!" The nearest comparison they could come up with was wax lips, but both agreed that Twizzlers have the advantage because, "You can't swallow wax lips."

While some people were lunching in the sunshine, I was watching a convention of Twizzler nerds. God, I love my life.

A Thank You Note for The Rub

My plans for the Winter Solstice were to spend it with a friend who had suggested a surprise outing together. I had no idea where we'd be going, only that we'd finish with a late lunch at Thai Diner. He said I could try to guess, but I'm not the guessing type, so I cleared my schedule and anticipated the afternoon.

So with no idea of what was in store, I got into his car and headed off into the unknown. He didn't keep me in suspense for long, though; we were going to have massages and it was his Christmas gift to me. As someone who has had a truly awful year, I knew I had enough tension in my body to keep a masseuse busy until her hands gave out so I was beyond thrilled. I have to say that a surprise gift of a massage was about the most wonderful thing that I could have heard at that moment.

He had set it up so that we would to have our massages in the same room, but with a partition dividing it for privacy (we're friends after all, so we don't get naked in front of each other). Upon arrival, it turned out that a pregnant woman had co-opted the divided room, so we used discretionary disrobing techniques and averted eyes to prevent any glimpses of friend flesh. And then I just melted into the table as my body got the once -over.

My favorite gift has always been words. I like nothing better than than a letter or e-mail when someone wants to give me a present. But today's gift of a massage on a body with a year's worth of stress and a broken heart may have been the kindest thing done for me in many moons.

I'm glad that today being the shortest day means that from here on out, the days will start getting longer. I'm even more grateful that I have such a thoughtful friend who knew exactly what I needed (without a word from me) and generously gave it to me.

And wouldn't you know, after feeling completely certain that no one would ever see this morning's big snow-induced bruise, the masseuse not only saw it, she commented that it wasn't too bad...yet.