Richmond Trip, Part I of III

Our trip to Richmond began in a most bizarre fashion. After cleaning and preparing and packing for two days, I was about ready to go take a shower, shave, and do dishes before getting into bed on Tuesday night - when the lights went out. Everywhere. The entire complex was dark. No street lights, no porch lights - nothing. Ok! So I did dishes by candlelight and went to bed, happy that I had charged my phone already.

At 1am, fairly unable to sleep, I called Keven to get phone numbers. Poor guy! But I needed to see if the blackout was city-wide. The taxi service said it was not, so I slept fitfully until 3am. I showered and applied my make-up by candlelight, hoping I did not look too freakish, and then hauled all of the luggage to the curb to wait for the taxi. Our luggage included two car seats, a stroller, one large suitcase, my backpack and one backpack each for the girls. At the last minute, I woke the kids, had them pee, put their shoes and jackets on, and hauled them into the pitch black. Not popular! The taxi driver had to circle around using her spotlight to try and find us. But then we were all loaded and on our way.

The morning passed uneventfully, with the girls acting far too blasé about air travel in general, until our flight was delayed in O'Hare. Surprise! Not really. Our plane was sitting right there in sight, but our pilot was grounded in South Bend because of a thunderstorm. We passed the morning with snacks, books, coloring, and countless unmanageable bathroom breaks. Also, Ilsa had an uncanny knack of making friends. A man sitting in front of us had a moustache, and she said he looked like my dad, Papa. "But he not Papa." No. "What his name?" Ask him. "What your name?" Bob. "Mama, he named Bob." Bob was enchanted and I got a stitch in my side from laughing.

We were in the air at 11am, two hours delayed, and landed without incident. The girls even managed to sleep a little on the plane. A quick taxi ride led us to the hotel around 3pm. I got the bags unpacked, wrangled the kids into clean clothes, and set them up with TWO channels of PBS, which meant the TV fun never had to stop. Then I was able to shave, finally, since that was one thing I refused to try by candlelight. The hotel was not exceedingly flash, but we knew that going in. Two stars gets you something relatively clean, modestly furnished, and livable. I ordered tons of pizza, intent on making use of our combo fridge/microwave.

Keven arrived at the hotel from work at around 6pm. I thought that nookie would be impossible because I had a) been up since 3am and b) shuffled two pre-schoolers across country. But no - there must be something biological that sets fatigue aside when mates reunite. Luckily, the girls were pretty beat and went to sleep without any fuss! And adjoining rooms rock.

Thursday, Keven had to go back to work, so the girls and I hung out at the hotel. We walked a mile to CVS to pick out snacks and hotel toy activity thingies. We ate lunch at a Waffle House, where we endured the slowest service I have ever experienced. Not even central London was this slow and unconcerned with service. The salad was a joke, but the waffle was good enough that the girls scarfed it right quick. My BLT was fantastic and certainly not for those shy of mucho bacon. I asked for unsweetened ice tea, aware from years in Cincinnati of the viscous concoction that is Southern sweat tea, and the waitress obliged. But when she delivered my tea, she also brought 11 packets of Sweet-n-Low - because, apparently, the only reason one would order unsweetened tea is because of caloric concerns. I wonder what she would have said if I told her I drink it without any sweetener at all?

After lunch, it was naps, more TV, and Keven's return from work. We packed up the girls and drove to a part of Richmond known as The Fan. It is a refurbished, gentrified area that looks oh-so-livable. It was beautiful in places, full of restored row houses and old fashioned east coast Americana architecture. We ate dinner in ultra-hippie/nifty Carytown at a place called Double T's Barbecue. Their BBQ was meat. Just meat, barbecued and brought to the table unadorned. No hideous gobs of icky sauce. No, we got to select from five different sauces: Texas hot sauce (heavy cumin), North Carolina (vinegar with honey), South Carolina (heavy vinegar and cider), Tennessee (sweeter, heavy tomato), and Texas BBQ (delicious, sticky-sweet molasses). Fun to play with combinations and put on just the right amount!

Our waiter was none other than Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg. However, had I known how the evening was going to proceed, I would have taken the order To Go and saved the tip. First, Zorg brought the girls their drinks in glasses shaped like cowboy boots. Very cute. Ilsa laughed. And then, of course, Juliette spilled hers everywhere. Zorg obviously did not have kids. Then, in the midst of enjoying my gorgeous pulled chicken sandwich with sweet potato casserole as a side, Ilsa decided that she doesn't like her grilled cheese. She proved the point by hurling her dinner - mostly chocolate milk at that point - all over the table. Most of the food was safe, but nothing else was. I spent the rest of the stay in the bathroom trying to clean Ilsa's clothes. And Zorg was tipped well.

Home. Bath. Story. Bed. And I ate my order of TO GO bread pudding and peach cobbler at home. I could not make up my mind between the two, and I figured I deserved the treats after such a weird evening.