Crisis Averted

My dress arrived on Wednesday. Phew! Of course, it's a little big at the top, but Wes's mom is a master (mistress?) seamstress, so I'm hoping I can leave it with her post-wedding and get back a custom-tailored frock.

But I don't really have shoes that match this dress. So I bought silver heels at Filene's. Except I can't really wear heels. I can't decide if I want to wreck my legs for the sake of hottness and essentially throw away the $50 I spent on the shoes by wearing them instead of just wearing my flats and returning the heels on Monday.

If it wasn't two weeks from the marathon and the economy wasn't melting down around us, I'd probably risk it.

Oh, Is This the Right Meeting?

Tonight I attended my first meeting of a writer's group I recently joined. I really enjoyed it. The people seem supportive, and the stories were really good. My big (and only) contribution was telling the group that someone stealing a candy bar from a grocery store wouldn't get arrested.

When I was in college I took a creative writing course. When we had prompts, I wrote some decent short stories, but I struggle with writer's block when it comes to completely original stuff. We had to write two stories for review, and I wrote mine as thinly veiled recounts of my own experiences.

Most of my feedback said that there was some good writing, but then went on to comment on the obvious mental illness of the protagonist. I mean, yeah, so, maybe my "character" "threatened" "her" sister with a "screwdriver." But does that mean she's mentally ill? Maybe the sister was really on her case and didn't respond to other forms of communication? There's really no way to know.

Anyway, that class led me to believe that I wasn't so good at fiction. So I started "blogging" instead of thinly disguising my neuroses--and now I'm an artist, not a psychopath.

And I'm Modest, Too

Cheryl and I made the news! We ran the High Trek Adventure race on Sept. 20, coming in second (and beating my friend Kathryn, hehe). We also wrote an article for RunWashington.com, so hopefully that goes up soon as well. In the meantime, enjoy my 2 minutes in the sun. (These are really starting to add up...)

Here's a pic.

P.S. My dress = not here.

Curses!

My dress still isn't here! I'm starting to get a little worried, because I leave for NC soon. I guess with UPS ground, it should get here by tomorrow, but since when does UPS take that long? And did they even send it UPS? Please, God, don't tell me they ship DHL...

My protein powder got here on Friday. (No, I still haven't opened it. I try not to think too much about it, especially at times like these, when I have a zucchini cake in the oven. Mmmmmm zucchini cake.)

Wes's bizarre shoes are here, though. I didn't even know he ordered them; the box just showed up to taunt me with its bold, Urban Outfitters (clearly not WHBM) logo.

Actually, the shoes kind of look like they have teeth, so it's like they're mocking me too!

Woops-a-Doodle

10 posts for September? That's sad. Pitiful, really. I mean, I feel like I had some good excuses, and some not good excuses, but 10 is not a lot for a month that has 30 days.

So my apologies to the six people who check this everyday. I have a vague idea who most of you are (Sitemeter is always watching), and I'm sorry I let you down. To make it up to you, I'm going to do 10 posts RIGHT NOW.

Just kidding, I'm going to dinner now. But three in one night, not bad. Just read them slowly.

I Didn't Know About This!

A Michael Phelps parade in Maryland?! (Interrobang!)

If I had known of it, I would have added it to my list of things to do today--and it might have actually gotten done, unlike about 90 percent of that list. (What did get done? A 22-mile run, and I cleaned half my bike. Cleaning your bike totally sucks, by the way. I'm not in a rush to do the other half.)

It Never Gets Old

So, the other day my boss pointed out that we can, literally, see into the offices of the Washington Post. Not just see them across a narrow maritime border (like I can see D.C. from the Mount Vernon Trail) but actually inside, where some dude sits at a computer and sometimes files things. (I figure there's no way he's a reporter. Reporters aren't good at filing.)

Anyway, I think we all know we're I'm going. Guess what I'm qualified to do!! Personally, I hope I get to be the editor of Date Lab.