My legs were covered day and night and that tells the whole story.
Sunday night, it was a black burnt velvet dress (purchased by a former boyfriend back in 1997 at Lex's in Carytown) that ended at my feet, the better to fit in for the black-tie Richmond Theater Critics Circle awards (aka the Artsies) at the November Theater.
Considering that my skirts always end well above the knees, my full-length attire was cause for comment.
"You look beautiful but what did you do with your legs?" I was asked in the lobby pre-show.
Put them away for the night?
After hearing that I looked swanky, I explained that that's like telling someone they look casual. I got an amended, "You look really good," far more complimentary to my ears.
One of the evening's hosts, Michael Hawke, came onstage and yelled, "Good evening, Richmond bitches!" setting the tone for a raucous evening celebrating local theater.
Not that I'm partial or anything, but Matt and Maggie, hosts of the monthly Ghost Light Afterparty, did some of the funniest awards presenting, using every possible opportunity to crack wise.
"Look at this! Everyone's in costume, everyone's wasted, clearly this is GLAP!" Matt joked before Maggie clarified it was the Artsies.
When they went to announce their first award, he yelled, "Wait! We have to have a drum roll!" and pulled out the GLAP bongos a familiar sight to regulars.
"I'm still not convinced this isn't the GLAP," Matt said, playing it to the hilt. "I'm pretty sure I saw Karen at the bar."
"I'm gonna go look for Karen!" Maggie said, using me as an excuse to leave her hosting duties and get a drink.
And while I wasn't at the bar (I was in my seat like a good attendee), it's always good to get a solid shout-out from the GLAP crew.
As if an evening with my assets hidden wasn't enough, I took a day to go to the country to traipse through the woods at the invitation of a friend.
The invite came with a warning, though.
"I know you're not fond of long pants but I'm going to recommend you wear a pair and some shoes suitable for hiking so we can trek through the wilderness."
What are these long pants you speak of, friend?
But I took the caveat to heart, went to Diversity Thrift and found a pair of jeans that I was told looked straight out of the disco.
Hip-huggers, multiple zippered pockets front and back, wide bell-bottoms and only $5.25, they were about as groovy (and cheap) as they come.
If there'd been a disco on the other side of the state forest, I could have gone there directly.
Instead, I spent most of a day wearing jeans, so rare an occurrence for me that I can tell you the last time I had denim obliterating a view of my gams.
February 2009.
I'm not expecting to put jeans back on again anytime soon, because what's the point in having good legs and not showing them off? Twice was more than enough.
Okay, maybe if I get invited to the disco.
Showing posts with label hiking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hiking. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Sunday, January 1, 2012
High Noon at Split Rock
It was called a First Day Hike.
When the first day of the year is sunny and mid-sixties, can there be a better thing to do than take a hike through the woods?
Pocahontas Park was offering what they called a First Day Hike at noon on New Year's Day.
And while I rarely venture to Chesterfield County, the thought of traipsing through the forest today sounded appealing.
I wasn't the only one. The Park Ranger was expecting twenty people and 87 showed up.
Before we left the boat ramp area, he warned us that we might see people packing pistols on the trail since that was now legal.
Ah, Virginia, with every step forward, always a backward glance.
And because this was a 21st-century hike, he provided his cell phone number to the group in case anyone got lost.
This is the world I'd prefer not to have to inhabit.
But I digress.
The hike was short, only two and a half miles, but covered very hilly and steep areas, making for a satisfying way to sweat out New Year's Eve.
It hadn't occurred to me beforehand, but visually winter is a wonderful time to be in a park. With the canopy of leaves absent, the vistas are endless.
With so large a group, the faster walkers immediately took the lead, which put me right up front with the Ranger's nine-year old son leading the pack..
The group made stops periodically so that the Ranger could tell us a bit about forestry maintenance or local history.
He admitted he was also catching his breath and I'm sure that was true of many of the stragglers.
In between stops, he called to his son to slow down and the kid and I looked at each other, grinned and kept right on.
We stopped at the grave site of a woman whose family farm once occupied part of the park grounds.
Her gravestone was still visible and the Ranger mentioned the many graveyards in the park.
Further on we came to Split Rock which had a romantic story to explain its separation.
The rock had been the favorite place of the dead woman who had visited it every day as a place of contemplation.
Supposedly, three months after she died the rock split, desolate at her absence.
The ranger pointed out that the rock resembled a broken heart. That was worth pondering as I looked at it.
A handsome man with slightly Indian-accented English approached me there and said with a smile, "You are keeping up a good pace and we are lagging behind. Good for you."
It was a nice cosmic balance to the Ranger's continuing admonitions to slow down.
Wandering up and down the trail's hills, it felt like the sky was just barely above the tree tops and it was hard not to marvel at the beauty of this January day.
When we reached the end of the trail, the Ranger gave us two trail options to return to the boat ramp area.
My Indian friend and I chose the longer path because the Ranger said it would have fewer people and we were ready to lose the crowd.
In the half mile back, we learned that we'd both gone to the University of Maryland, both had relatives scattered around Maryland and both had been dissatisfied with the pace of the walkers in the Monument Avenue 10k when we'd last walked it.
But mostly we admired the variety of trees, stepped on stones to cross water and walked as fast as we wanted to.
"I had some extra drinks last night," he explained as if he were the only guilty party. "It feels good to be out and doing this."
Amen, my new friend. I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.
When the first day of the year is sunny and mid-sixties, can there be a better thing to do than take a hike through the woods?
Pocahontas Park was offering what they called a First Day Hike at noon on New Year's Day.
And while I rarely venture to Chesterfield County, the thought of traipsing through the forest today sounded appealing.
I wasn't the only one. The Park Ranger was expecting twenty people and 87 showed up.
Before we left the boat ramp area, he warned us that we might see people packing pistols on the trail since that was now legal.
Ah, Virginia, with every step forward, always a backward glance.
And because this was a 21st-century hike, he provided his cell phone number to the group in case anyone got lost.
This is the world I'd prefer not to have to inhabit.
But I digress.
The hike was short, only two and a half miles, but covered very hilly and steep areas, making for a satisfying way to sweat out New Year's Eve.
It hadn't occurred to me beforehand, but visually winter is a wonderful time to be in a park. With the canopy of leaves absent, the vistas are endless.
With so large a group, the faster walkers immediately took the lead, which put me right up front with the Ranger's nine-year old son leading the pack..
The group made stops periodically so that the Ranger could tell us a bit about forestry maintenance or local history.
He admitted he was also catching his breath and I'm sure that was true of many of the stragglers.
In between stops, he called to his son to slow down and the kid and I looked at each other, grinned and kept right on.
We stopped at the grave site of a woman whose family farm once occupied part of the park grounds.
Her gravestone was still visible and the Ranger mentioned the many graveyards in the park.
Further on we came to Split Rock which had a romantic story to explain its separation.
The rock had been the favorite place of the dead woman who had visited it every day as a place of contemplation.
Supposedly, three months after she died the rock split, desolate at her absence.
The ranger pointed out that the rock resembled a broken heart. That was worth pondering as I looked at it.
A handsome man with slightly Indian-accented English approached me there and said with a smile, "You are keeping up a good pace and we are lagging behind. Good for you."
It was a nice cosmic balance to the Ranger's continuing admonitions to slow down.
Wandering up and down the trail's hills, it felt like the sky was just barely above the tree tops and it was hard not to marvel at the beauty of this January day.
When we reached the end of the trail, the Ranger gave us two trail options to return to the boat ramp area.
My Indian friend and I chose the longer path because the Ranger said it would have fewer people and we were ready to lose the crowd.
In the half mile back, we learned that we'd both gone to the University of Maryland, both had relatives scattered around Maryland and both had been dissatisfied with the pace of the walkers in the Monument Avenue 10k when we'd last walked it.
But mostly we admired the variety of trees, stepped on stones to cross water and walked as fast as we wanted to.
"I had some extra drinks last night," he explained as if he were the only guilty party. "It feels good to be out and doing this."
Amen, my new friend. I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
