Girls (?) Gone Wild!!!

I can say with assurance that this has been a winter that Richmonders will talk about for years. We're disgusted with the weather forecasts, and just tuckered out from all the snow shoveling and windshield scraping. In the usual scheme of things around here we will have snow followed by a quick thaw, but this winter we've had one storm on the heels of another. My backyard has been covered in snow for weeks.

I've made it to the office every day, though. It's a work ethic that was instilled in me at the age of nineteen when I started working for Worldwide Monopoly. You get to work on time even if it means getting up several hours early to start shoveling & scraping. And why not? What would I do at home except drink coffee, lounge around in sweatpants, and take naps?

Hmmm...I may need to rethink this work ethic.

We're all weary of the snow, because by this time it isn't even pretty snow. We've been getting snowfall in steady pulses since the weekend before Christmas, and even hermits need to leave their homes occasionally for supplies. Parking lots feature miniature Matterhorns; brooding piles of dirty, gray snow obscure visibility. The roads are pocked with hellish potholes, and every car in town will need a front-end alignment by the time spring arrives. So, we're all pretty cranky.

What can you do about the weather except sit around and bitch?

Well, I'm glad you asked, because one alternative is to get a pack of people together and head down to your local Drag Show Brunch, which is what fourteen of us did this past Sunday.

Here's what it's been like around here lately. This picture was taken in my neighborhood on my way home from work one day.

Here's the crowd waiting outside Godfrey's on Grace Street for the drag brunch show. We were all excited because it was a beautiful sunny day for a change.

Robespierre & Martha waiting for the show to begin.

Sheldon enjoying the last heterosexual moment he would have for a few hours with his girlfriend, Sadie.

And now, on with the show!

Warning: this post contains actual photographs of live gender-bending nudity!

You have been warned! Leave now if you are easily offended, unless you have hot coals to poke in your eyes. Remember, being offended is the natural consequence of leaving one's home.







Sheldon cringes under the she-male assault of Tiffany Devereaux. I'd been to Godfrey's brunch a few times, so I chose a spot against the wall when we were seated. I grinned to myself when I saw Sheldon take a seat at the edge of the performance area.

Robespierre, who is always looking for a date, learns to be careful what he prays for.

Tina Turner takes a liking to Sheldon, too.

Entertaining the masses is exhausting.

Mercedes Douglas makes her entrance from Grace Street. There was a bewildered man across the street rubbing his eyes in wonder.





Martha decides to get in the act & earn a few bucks of her own.



Boobs are boobs. Dave is happy.

The performers put on a great show, and we happily gave up our dollar bills to them. They worked hard for the money. We had a blast, and we had the only two tables in the restaurant that weren't littered with booze glasses by the time the show ended. The drag brunch attracts a lot of bridal, birthday and divorce parties, and those folks were really whooping it up.
As we drove away, we saw one puking girl being carried to a limo by her friends. We still had a whole day of fun ahead of us. The sober life is full of mirth.

RR's and M&M's

The river has been reaching flood levels lately, which doesn't mean that we're getting washed away. Some streets like Dock Street have been closed, and the James has overrun its banks in a few low-lying areas. Mostly, though, it's business as usual.

I went to breakfast with Jean & Bruce the other day before work, and I stopped and snapped the top photo on my way to their place. I was on Riverside Drive at the river bank, and you can see that the slender island in the middle of the James is nearly submerged. Farther downriver, on the other side of the falls, logs and debris have damaged the boat docks at Sadie's place. Fortunately, her boat is being safely stored out of the water for the winter. One man saw a cow floating by.

A couple of days prior to the top snapshot, I photographed this lovely board & batten house on Main Street, built in 1859. Several of us went to the deLux Diner to celebrate Sherry's sobriety anniversary over brunch. We all enjoyed the food, and I will tell you that if you decide to try the deLux Diner, you would do well to park in front of that pretty white house in the picture. It's right across from the restaurant, so it is very convenient, and as you can see there are no large trees at the curb.

I parked on Strawberry Street beneath a tree, and when we returned to my car after dining, we were awestruck by the amount of bird poop on my car. It defies description, really. The entire car was plastered. It looked like a vendetta, and I tried to recall whether I had been mean to any birds in my past. We were mostly silent as we sat in the car and looked at the windshield.

"I wonder what kind of berries they'd been eating?" murmered Shirley, "Bird poop is usually mostly white."
"It looks like they ate meatloaf," I replied.

In mid-January, Morris & I decided we needed a day trip, so we hopped on the road and took a little tour of central Virginia. We visited Amelia Courthouse, Crewe, Victoria, Kenbridge, and Blackstone. Just before we reached Amelia, right around Chula, we spotted the little vacant church pictured below.

We think this was probably the original Mt. Olive Church, before a newer, larger version was built a few hundred yards down the road. It was possibly turned over to another congregation, perhaps African-American, before they too moved on.

I don't know why I am so fascinated by abandoned buildings. They have intrigued me since childhood.


While we were riding around Crewe, a railroad boomtown at one point in history, we called our friend Molly, who lives in nearby Victoria. Molly served as an excellent editor for our local monthly newsletter, and I have enjoyed getting to know her. She was thrilled that we were in the area, and offered to ride with us to show us the sights.

Victoria truly was a railroad town, having been established in 1906 as a planned community during the construction of the Tidewater Railway. The town was a maintenance center for the railroad, and had a lovely station and a large roundhouse.

Now these buildings are gone, but the town remains. It features a tiny downtown section, where Morris & I stopped at an old storefront that has recently been converted to a non-Starbucks coffee house. Then we picked Molly up at her charming two-bedroom house, which was built in 1919.

Molly showed us around Victoria, and took us to the adjacent town of Kenbridge, where we had lunch at Mildred's Meals.

Mildred serves good home cooking in a friendly restaurant that has probably changed very little in the past fifty years. I had a roast beef with gravy dinner (with homemade rolls!!!) that was smack-your-grandma good.

Mildred still greets her guests when they come in. She wanted to know where Morris & I were from, and said she hoped we enjoyed our visit. She's about a thousand years old, and just as sweet as she can be, but the town was afraid that they were going to lose her a few years back. A crazy lady came into the restaurant and shot Mildred. It was touch & go for awhile, but Mildred pulled through and is still treating her guests to gentle Southern hospitality. Bless her heart! We love you, Mildred, and your delicious dinner rolls.

From Kenbridge it was just a short drive to Blackstone, which seemed like Metropolis with its population of nearly four thousand. Blackstone was originally named Blacks and Whites back in the late 1790's, because of two rival taverns on the stagecoach route between Petersburg and North Carolina. John Schwartz's tavern is pictured below, and I have no idea what happened to Francis White's tavern.

Molly took us to the chicken hatchery where she works, but before we could go in she asked us if we had been around any chickens lately. I pointed out that Morris had just eaten chicken at Mildred's Meals.
"Live chickens," Molly amended.
Once we gave our assurances that we had not held, fondled, licked or brushed up against any live chickens recently we were allowed to enter the office. We didn't get to see any live chicks. Molly works in the office, which is all we toured, but if we had gone into the hatchery it would have required suiting up like the scientists in The Andromeda Strain. They are extremely particular about safety and hygienic conditions at the facility, which should make us all feel a bit better the next time we bite into a chicken sandwich.

Schwartz Tavern is pictured below, and it serves now as a museum of local history.

We had a marvelous day exploring this quiet, rural area of the state, and having a local guide in the car was invaluable. Molly was able to educate us on local history as well as current events & gossip. Since she's a very active member of our recovery fellowship, she pointed out where many of the area's AA meetings are located. This will help me a great deal since I get calls from people seeking meetings throughout that section of the state. Molly also knew all the backroad shortcuts, and you always see the most interesting things when you get off the beaten track.

One of the first things I learned about being powerless over alcohol was the imperitiveness of staying away from the first drink. The normal drinker does not have to worry about this, which is why they frequently think that the problem drinker would be okay if they just learned to "cut back" on their consumption. It just doesn't work for the alcoholic, at least not yours truly. I tried so many times to control my consumption, and it appeared to work for a few days or a week, but then I would be pounding them down worse than ever.

Here's an example: at my office, I've continued the tradition of my predecessor by having a bowl or basket of candy available for visitors. I get the good stuff, too - Snickers, Reeses, Mars bars, Kit Kats, and other premium candy that I buy in a giant bag at CostCo. I've learned that I have to treat the candy dish like the first drink of alcohol.

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk, working at the computer, and I decided that one "fun size" bag of M&M's would hit the spot. Just one, no big deal. I tore open the little bag, and inside I found 2 green M&M's, 6 blue, 2 yellow, 7 orange, and 2 brown, for a total of 19 candy pieces. I noted that the green color was a nice light shade, and reflected that they used to be a darker green (if my memory is accurate). I also noted that there were no red candies.
It seemed logical and acceptable, strictly for candy research purposes, to open another bag after I ate the first bag's candies one by one. How else would I know whether they still made red M&M's?

Well, what do you think I found in the second bag? The contents were 4 green, 7 blue, 3 yellow, 3 orange, 2 brown, again totaling 19 pieces. Still no red.
Had they eliminated red M&M's??? Only more research would determine for sure. In the third bag I found 4 green, 3 blue, 2 yellow, 2 orange, 2 brown, and 4 red. Case closed. But wait! There were only 17 M&M's in this packet. I recounted. Seventeen. That didn't seem right.

The next bag held no green candies, 4 blue, 5 yellow, 4 orange, 3 brown, and one lonely red button. Seventeen again. By now I was eating them three at a time. The next packet contained 4 green, 3 blue, 2 yellow, 4 orange, 3 brown, and 2 reds. Eighteen.

Clearly, this could go on until I ran out of M&M bags. Besides, I was starting to feel bleary & icky from all the sugar. The fun size bags had stopped being fun. I decided to leave the shadowy boundaries of portion control to the good people at Mars, Incorporated.

So, for this alcoholic, there is no such thing as one drink. Having one drink would be like having an itch on my back and finding someone with nice, long fingernails who only gave me one swipe across the itch. One day recently, during a particularly rough day at work, I thought "This is exactly the kind of day when a nice dry martini after work would be in order." Then I laughed at myself, and was suddenly happy that today I have the choice not to take that drink. At the end of the day, I went to a meeting instead, and there I found exactly what I needed.

KLM: A+; Northwest/Delta: FAIL

Here's a report on my journey home from Amsterdam, and a few more miscellaneous photos from my trip. Before I relate the tale of the long road home, let's take a look at the doorway to the left. I took quite a few pictures of the entrances to buildings while I was in Amsterdam, but I'll just post this one. I loved the blue color, and the interestingly placed door knob. Sadie, who lived in Amsterdam for several months, told me that the notices next to the letterbox (hard to see in the photo) indicate whether the occupant will accept junk mail & advertisements or not. What a concept!

I went to the airport before dawn on my day of departure, only to learn that my name had inexplicably been wiped off the passenger manifest for my return flight home. KLM tried to get me on the early morning flight to Detroit, but it didn't pan out. However, a representative whisked me off to their offices, and I waited in comfort while they scrambled about making new travel arrangements. After a short time, I had a confirmed booking on a 10:30 flight. KLM also gave me vouchers for food & beverage while I waited in the terminal, a coupon for 2000 flyer miles, and a considerable wad of euros in cash.

When I boarded the plane, I was relieved to see that I was not seated in the middle of the middle. On a flight home from Spain one time I was seated in the very back row of the middle section, which meant that the seat reclined about one inch. I was between a rambunctious two year old boy and a very large man. That was a long flight.

This time I had an aisle seat, and - bonus! - was beside a handsome young man. He turned out to be an American who played on a professional Norwegian hockey team. He was very friendly & engaging without being annoyingly talkative when I was ready to nap. He was traveling home for the holidays.

When I arrived in Detroit, my plans went south, which meant that I did not. More about that after you browse my remaining photos from Amsterdam.

Taken from a street near Suzanne's apartment. The Amstel River is at the end of the block.

David & Suzanne chatting on the sidewalk when we first arrived.

My little suitcase in my corner of the apartment. It was nice not having a lot of extra baggage.

Suzanne & Brett moved into their new apartment just a couple weeks prior to my visit. It's been modernized recently, and is quite spacious by European standards. This is a view of the dining room, with its opening to the kitchen.

Many first floor flats have a small private garden area in the rear. The high back walls like these are a favorite haunt of neighborhood cats. Roaming kitties can get some fresh air while they taunt indoor pets.

When they first arrived in Amsterdam, David's cats, Brenda & JJ, stayed huddled in their litter box for safety. Here, they are finally venturing out of the box to more a comfortable place on David's bed.

Suzanne opens her shop for the day! I went to work with her my second day in Amsterdam.

The shop has a nice loft, and you can see Suzanne zipping about on the main sales floor in this photo.

Amsterdam Centraal railway station opened in 1889. Trains, trams, buses, taxis, and nearby ferries make this a main transportation hub in The Netherlands. The next shot shows the station's interior decorated for Christmas.



Suzanne & I welcomed a hearty snack after traipsing around the city on a snowy day.

All of the trams that I rode were new and sleek, except for this one charming older tram. It was clean & well maintained, just like the newer models.

This building near Vondelpark had incredibly gorgeous decorative tile. The photo does not do it justice.

The lobby restaurant of the Westin Hotel at Detroit's airport, my home away from home.

When I arrived in Detroit I learned that all flights to Dulles had been cancelled because of the huge winter storm. Let me tell you, Delta/Northwest has wretched customer service. Unlike my experience with KLM, I was instructed to run my ass from counter to counter, terminal to terminal, only to be told by indifferent employees that the earliest confirmed flight would get me to Dulles on late Monday night. It was early afternoon on Saturday, so I went immediately to the Westin Hotel attached to the airport to secure a room before every other delayed traveler had the same notion.

I'll not bore you with the endless lines I shuffled through trying to get an earlier flight over the next two days. I did get a seat on a flight that was four hours earlier than the 10 o'clock flight on Monday night, but here is where Delta's greed became truly apparent: I had to pay an additional $50 to change my flight. I was so desperate to get home that I handed my credit card to the clerk. I didn't raise a fuss, because she had put in a hell of a day. It wasn't her policy; she was following Delta's instructions. I knew better than to dream that Delta would cover my hotel expenses, but since it was mutually beneficial to get backlogged passengers through their system as quickly as possible, it would have made good business sense to waive the $50 fee. I will not travel willingly on Delta/Northwest again. I'd rather stay home. Air travel is hellish enough these days without an avaricious airline bending me over their ticket counter.

Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play? Quite well, thank you! The difficulties getting home could not mar the wonderful time I had in Amsterdam with Suzanne. The euros that KLM generously offered me covered my hotel expenses, and all's well that ends well. I got to see a new city, and return to my own bed with a new sense of gratitude. There's no place like home.

The air traffic control tower at Detroit mocks me from my hotel window.