billie jean.

this afternoon my conservative neighbor on the corner of grove and shields played michael jackson's thriller album loudly from his porch, imploring the neighborhood to memorialize the prematurely-dead pop star at 85 decibels as he silently did yard work.

i sat on a chair, in my yard, began a new novel and moved a little to the beat. above everything else, he was damn talented.

no naps.

i spent my last day of unemployment appropriately.

fighting off the arguably unwarranted effects of a last call irish car bomb 'gift', my unmade twin bed threatened me to take a nap.

a phone call from mary saved me-
you wouldn't believe how hot it is...

equally tempted to see for myself and reminiscing our own 'NO NAPS' rule from camp, i gathered the necessities:
camera
book
moleskin, pen
bathing suit
avaitors.
and set off on my bike.

i rode all the way down grove until the only remnants of the city were familiar street names, all disguised with large, historic brick homes.

i came to the conclusion that grove between malvern and westmoreland is the most bike unfriendly stretch of sidewalk in the city.

i sat at the pool and read some. i rode my bike along new streets, trying to get lost. i got an italian ice in carytown with a 'local employees' discount, then bought 2 currently destinationless postcards.

having one obligation, i headed to mechanicsville to get my oil changed. i ended up sitting on the sidewalk outside and making friends with the oilchange cat. "she doesn't really like people..." yet by the end of it she was purring a plea to take me home. i scratched her head, and told her i'd see her in 3 months, or 3000 miles (whichever comes first.)

from there, i caught up with my parents and did my ritualistic scouring and pilfering of their refrigerator, and finally to my bestfriendof17years' grad party.

what followed was a combination of equal parts barbecue, live classic rock, belting out temptations lyrics, and many multi-generational games of flip cup, well into the wee hours.

that wee part really being the only questionable decision, considering, as of 10am today, i'm employed!

ole.

flannel

when i was 4 i participated in the christmas pageant at my church. my sister and i were shepherds, and i vaguely remember how excited i was about the costumes- an off-white pillow case cinched around the waste by a simple leather cord.

i'm sure my mother would jump at the chance to prove wrong my assumption that there are no remaining pictures from the event, however, it seems some things never change...

recently i was helping a friend move when i spotted one of the greatest 2.5x3 ft pieces of flannel i'd run across in a while. when i asked, he told me it was the pillow case he used to move his drums (? i'd assume that pesky, pillow shaped drum?). i asked if his drums would miss it, but didn't wait for the response.

here, is my result:


to be worn at any outdoorconcertcookoutfamilygettogether that presents itself.

sunday funday

summer it the time when one sheds her tensions with her clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. a few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world.

- Ada Louise Huxtable

a/c

my dad told me once that air conditioning is thought of as the most antisocial invention. and now, i couldn't agree more.

living in the fan, everyone has a porch. everyone. however, with the convenience of the a/c, people no longer need the porch. they are drawn to the indoors rather than spending countless hours on the front porch, drinking lemonade or something stronger, connecting with neighbors, taking in every part of their square of the world.

today, after giving my first ever official personalized tour of richmond (yes, of course, it was a success.) my tour victim left, and there was a brief moment of panic when i realized i had no one to keep me company for the next hour or so. proactively i grabbed my book (summer sisters, for the 3rd time. NBO) and headed to my porch.

not long after, someone came out of the pineapple door. which, by the way, finally disappeared last night, with no appropriate reaction as of yet.

the events that followed were a combination of wine, deviled eggs, a bit of cheese and lots of shared stories. and laughs. and plans to go out, this evening. as well as a book idea, co-authored by the three of us, in the works.

all of this brought by a pineapple.
<3.


actually, come to think of it, if the pineapple and my air conditioning were to fight, i'd argue the pineapple would be victorious. it's slowly reviving communities. it's all happening.

bienvenidos.

over the past 5 years i've had 6 different addresses.

in considering this recently, i began to think of the neighbors i've had, and those i've never met. i made a promise to myself to find a unique way to meet my neighbors with every new place i move- a welcoming pineapple. my mom told me once that the pineapple was a traditional symbol of welcome, and so i did a bit of research.

after hesitantly discussing the idea with my roommates (this would their first experience of my spontaneous creativity) over dinner and martinis at three monkeys, they were thrilled. after we got home i walked a half a block to shields market (my choice fan market) and picked up one of the spiky fruits.



I then drafted and wrote a brief note, on the back of a picture of the richmond skyline, and attached it to the pineapple.


and left it on my neighbors' porch.


as of 0900 hours, the pineapple was still patiently waiting on the welcome mat.

right of passage.

there's a shamefully legitimate reason for my recent blog drought.

about a month ago, I picked up the collegiate times and saw a blurb on the front: Position Open for She Said writer. the She Said column comes out every friday, and is a witty, sarcastic opinion piece on some aspect of college life, compared right beside the 'he said' column. it's entertaining. it's bold. it was a position i was born to have.

so i applied, approximately 2 minutes after the paper came from printing. the responding email introduced the subject for the 'write-off' each applicant was to write a competing article on. the subject? throwing a college party.

here is my piece, which if nothing else, i hope was a damn close second.
............................................................................................................................

She Said- Throwing a College Party

As freshmen entering into college, ‘making it’ through the year includes avoiding accumulating 3 JR’s, not getting caught in a Pritchard fire drill, and evading the freshmen fifteen like the plague. It isn’t until sophomore year, however, that success is defined by the ultimate right of passage: throwing a college party.

Avoiding JR’s becomes eluding the police, fire drills give way to not being skunked into a naked run around your apartment complex, and the terror of a few extra pounds becomes blurred with every flip of a solo cup.

The first college party is a defining moment in any undergraduate drinking-enthusiast’s life; a first experience that becomes not jaded but seasoned with each credit passed. Every detail of your first college party is planned, from each strategic invite to the song to be played at the top of every hour. The pinnacle of the planning period, logically, is the official party Facebook event profile. Days may be spent staring blankly at that notorious blue and white screen, choosing the perfect Event Name and Tagline, while debating between the attraction of a safe ‘house party’ description, or a more entertaining ‘night of mayhem’ or even ‘erotic party’ choice. After hours of deliberation, finally a coordinated picture, a truly ‘unique’ theme decision (always between heaven and hell, 80s, and togas), and detailed report on every type of alcohol that will be served, you invite everyone you know. This is not the party to hold back, after all.

Finally, after spending embarrassing amounts of your parents ‘just-for-essentials’ money (you’ll make it back for sure!) on liquor, natty kegs, solo cups, and Jell-o packets, plus decorations, the evening arrives. Your tiny apartment turns into a fantasy land of slutty angels, sluttier demons, and apathetic college students. As you slip into a hostess-excused drunkenness, even through your dynamic double-vision the night unfolds just as planned, from every game of Kings and random keg stands to shocking beer-pong upsets. However, upon further inspection the following morning, you realize hangover-vision is not quite as forgiving. The brutality of a pounding headache combined with a completely trashed apartment, the reality of being over $300 in debt, plus an expensive noise violation taped to the door brings you back to reality, and you immediately meet the fate of every freshman in attendance the night before, crying as you kneel over the toilet.

The upperclassman, however, has learned a thing or two from years of intensive party researching. With more than 60 credits under his or her belt, time is not wasted on Facebook events, or any planning at all, really. The upperclassman party is simply a perpetual pregame. It begins with, “hey, wanna invite some people over before we go out?” which suddenly becomes a familiar group of 20 or so, with the occasional uncomfortable newcomer. The theme ends up being ‘Will anyone notice I wore this out Tuesday?’ and the drinks of choice are a BYOB buffet of PBR’s, Bud Light, and the occasional pretentious six-pack of Leinenkugel’s. The goal of ‘making it to Sharkey’s by 10’ is rarely achieved, as more often the pregame never ends. The night is filled with more intellectually challenging drinking games, such as Baseball, Cheers Govenah!, and Sardines. Being skunked in beer pong has evolved into voluntary streaking of the drillfield, football field, or other Hokie landmark. And in the morning, you grumble an “I’d move you if you passed out in front of everyone…” to your roommate after waking up on the couch, again, and sigh satisfied that the house looks much like it did the previous morning, plus the fridge is inhabited by a motley crew of leftover beers.