HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PETER!

The Great Grape Stomp of Aught Eight

Like every little girl, I had big dreams. After my dream of becoming a mermaid didn’t workout, I turned my sights to the Olympic all-around title in gymnastics (I think I was closer to becoming a mermaid!)

Those dreams have faded but one remains - my elusive dream to emulate the life and hijinks of Lucille Esmeralda McGillicuddy Ricardo. I’ve had a few Lucy-esque shenanigans –the disastrous pull-up bar is just one of a litany of examples. Given my penchant for Lucy-like schemes, you can then only imagine how excited I was when Alina found the 2nd Annual 'I Love Lucy' Grape Stomp Competition at 3 Foxes Vineyard.

To prepare for the competition, we started by doing just the slightest research into grape stomping strategies (How do you stomp effectively? Common problems to avoid, etc). On the big day we donned our Lucy-inspired outfits and headed to the winery. When we arrived, the competition was already underway. We were placed in the 9th heat and competed with the over 50 teams that were registered. Then suddenly a crazy thing happened---I had a strange feeling wash over me—COMPETITIVENESS!

I suddenly thought, "we can do this! Look at all those people stomping without a strategy—wasting time and energy hopping around, or twirling about like a washing machine gone awry." It was stomping chaos and I knew that we could make it to the finals. After warming up, stretching, and a few practice stomps in the grass, it was our turn.

We climbed into the barrel full of grapes, and stomped. We executed our pre-planned strategy - of course, I can’t reveal the details of our strategy here, for fear our competition for next years stomp may be trolling the blogosphere in hopes of stealing our strategy! ☺ For 3 minutes, we stomped and filled 14 cups of grape juice—we were seeded 2nd going into the finals! HOORAY

The rules were different for the finals. Only one minute of stomping and we had to provide our own "cupper." Suddenly, JC - who we convinced to come along only to take pictures and hold the dog - was recruited as a critical team member! I talked her through our strategy and what we expected of her as cup filler/hole poker/stem remover and finished with some really encouraging words like, ‘if you screw this up for us—I’ll kill you with my grape-stained feet!’ Poor JC, she’s a good sport!

We were in the first group of finalists. The defending champions, a team of 60-something men with gigantic feet, were in the second group. We knew we had to be really effective stompers to overcome our biggest weakness—my tiny little (useless) feet!!!! WHY, OH WHY, wasn’t I born with giant clown feet. We had to stomp and hope our number held. Right before we went out, Alina said—‘we’re in it to win it!’ And we were! We climbed in our barrel, got the go cue and stomped like lunatics. The competitiveness was overwhelming, I found myself screaming things at JC like ‘NEW CUP NEW CUP’ and ‘GET THAT STEM CLEARED, NOWWWWWW!!!!’ A minute later, we had stomped 13.5 cups of grape juice. What WERE we doing the last 2 minutes of the first round?!?!

We had to wait, watch and hope that we had set an unbeatable standard. It was not to be! The defending champions (aka Big Foot) won the day! But, we came in second (and looked much more like Lucy and Ethel doing it!). We’ll be back next year ---I’m sure the defending champions are quaking in their giant boots.

For all pics see here, courtesy of JC

No Such Thing As A Free Lunch?

Think again. That line is for free salads, sandwiches and soda's from Chop't. P and I stood in line for 40 minutes for our free lunch. Yumm--totally worth the wait.

Drop That Cookie

For the first time in my entire life, I’ve joined a gym. There is one right across the street from my new firm so it is very convenient. One of the perks (perhaps the only perk) was a free consultation with a personal trainer. I’ve never been to a personal trainer before, so as I headed over to they gym, I was pretty nervous. I was expecting a high-pressure sales routine, like the only possible way for me to understand the gym or its equipment was to pay the trainer $5 zillion dollars a minute three times a week for him to explain it to me.

Before the workout, we started with a ‘health assessment.’ I was told I have great muscle tone, and am in great shape. The trainer kept telling me, ‘oh I can tell you are a runner and work out, you’re in great shape’ ‘you’ve got a nice low heart rate– that’s great!’ So I was feeling pretty inflated and responded with things like “Why yes I AM in great shape, thank you” and ‘I am a triathlete you know.’ Then came the body fat assessment and that’s when it all went plummeting down hill. He pinched my fat, of which there is plenty, then *gasp* weighed me. The jerk! He then looked at me sadly as if delivering the news that I have a terminal condition, and said, “I’m sorry your body fat is, well your body fat—it’s poor.” He then slid the chart across the table to me, with my profile circled just in case there was any doubt. I exclaimed “WHAT!?!?! How can my body fat possibly be poor? I mean I have plenty of it—that has to be good! It does everything it is supposed to do—it jiggles well, it sits around being fatty—I mean honestly, trainer what more do you want from my fat!!!”

He then very very gently suggested I lose 10lbs. To which I graciously responded, “NO WAY—I love eating…it’s one of my very favorite things. YOU lose 10 pounds! Maybe YOUR body fat is poor—what does your body fat do? Tricks!” (I’m very mature in these types of situations.)

Anyway, I’ve come to grips with my ‘poor fat’ and am now sadly on a diet. Farewell, cookies! Farewell, chocolate! Farewell, wine and cheese! Farewell! I will see you all in 10 pounds, but until then I will miss you. I miss you already!

PS—if you catch me eating any of the above recently banned foods, please tackle me down and wrestle the offending food away from me.

Labor Day Weekend!

After a hard year of laboring, finally a long weekend! P and I had a great time. We started off by going to Peter's first 10k. Alina and I tagged along to cheer P on. It was my first time being the cheering squad rather than racing squad and I admit, at first I was worried about how I'd do as a cheerer. We got at the race plenty early and Peter got himself psyched up with his ipod. Alina and I cheered loudly as the race started, it turns out my *ahem* well endowed vocal cords make me a natural born cheerer! After the beginning of the race we wandered around wondering what to do until the racers returned. Suddenly, we spotted a table of doughnut boxes!!!! We pounced! Typically, the doughnuts aren't eaten until the racers return, but they were there and we like doughnuts and the table was foolishly left unmanned. Peter returned in a good time and we were able to finish our tasty treats in time to return to the finish line and cheer him across. Aussie! Aussie! Aussie! It turns out I do make a good cheer section, when fried dough is involved! :)

After the race, P and I headed off to Charlottesville for the weekend. We stayed at our favorite B&B down there, which is on a working farm. We spent the weekend wine tasting and relaxing. Two of my favorite things!

My Haircut

I've been in desperate need of a haircut for a while now. So I asked around the office to see if there was anyone really good near my new offices. I got a recommendation that seemed really good and reasonably priced, but I was warned 'he's very very opinionated.' Given my complete and utter lack of fashion and style, I don't mind having a bossy stylist. Yesterday I trekked down to the salon and had to fill out a form detailing my usual 'routine' with my hair. The form was turned into the stylist whom I shall call 'S.' I should preface this with, he did a great job and I'll definitely be going back to him. In fact, I think he's the best I've been to since I've been in DC. The conversation with S though was hysterical, it went like this:

S: 'I see you do not do anything to style your hair.'
Me: 'Yes, that's right-- I'm fairly lazy.'
S: 'So you only blow dry?'
Me: 'No."
S: 'No??? NO BLOW DRY?!?!?! You don't do anything?'
Me: 'Ummm I brush it and wash and condition and... '
S: 'Well, I will tell you my opinion'
Me: 'Okay, pray tell...'
S: 'Your hair needs to be longer, it has nice wave. You need to grow it. I will fix the layers in the mean time.' (I'll spare you the details of his long drawn out elaborate plan for the future of my hair)
Me: "I will dedicate all of my free time to growing my hair."
S: "Good." (not even the hint of a smile--that's a funny joke right???)
(then he starts cutting my hair-- DRY! No wash, no rinse, NADA!)
Me: ''Do you always cut hair dry? I've never had my hair cut when it's dry. "
S: "No. Never"
Me: "umm.... what?"
S: "If you will not bother to dry your hair why should I? You will not do it anyway."
Me: "ummm... what?"
S: "Well, I need to see how it is when it is air dryed. I need to see growth patterns, since you will not blow dry it."
Me: "Okay, fair enough."
S: "You need to grow your hair."
Me: "Yes, I got that, I'm busy right now trying to grow it faster than you can cut it."
S: (frowns) "You could be sexy if you only blow dried."
M: (confused) "I don't think the blow dryer is my problem."
S: "If your hair was longer it would look like the hair of a Victoria's Secret model."
Me: "Pity I don't have the body to match."
S: (not even a glimmer of a smile!) "You will. I will cut good layers"

I hope he meant in my hair and not my hips!!!!

The Nerdiest Baseball Game Ever?

Last month, P and I attended the annual Congressional baseball game. It was a pretty neat experience. P and I enjoy going to baseball games anyway, so it was particularly fun to watch the Dem's and Republican's battle it out.

The fans were particularly nerdy, myself included. I've never seen so many people in full suits at a game! Most of the audience was also busy sending work mails on their blackberries -- that never happens at a regular Nat's game (except for maybe P and me :) ). Additionally there were signs like 'The Majority Rocks!' and 'Republican Revolution.' A particularly nerdy highlight was when Jeff Flake (R-AZ) was up to bat the audience taunted him by chanting in a sing-songy voice 'Earmarks, Earmarks, Eaaarrrmarks'.

If your wondering the R's won for the 8th straight year.