friday photo: football season is here

I've been reluctant to see summer go. I feel that way every year. It's one of the reasons I was drawn back to LA over and over again for years. But on the east coast, summer refuses to stay longer than a single season, and every year, as temperatures steadily drop a degree here and a few there, I wistfully cling to it - refusing to put away my sundresses and sandals, shivering long into mid-September nights. This year, I basked in summer's offerings - day hikes, a camping trip, time well-spent napping and reading at the beach, slowing down time with old friends and speeding it up with new projects, long days and slow evenings with the taste of the grill in my dinner. But every year, including this one, just as I consider packing up my bags to chase summer, small reminders of what Fall brings sneak into my routine and my line of sight. The return of football, the thought of picking apples and the memory of the smell of apple cake in the oven, and the imagined taste of hot cider, and the vision of Shenandoah National Park in fall - with a brisk breeze and leaves of a thousand colors falling down over my steps, and pulling out skinny jeans that have nearly gathered dust and knee-high boots that have done the same - these are all the things that warm me when the sun's rays stop, and I think this year, Fall is going to be as filled with love as its fading predecessor.

my bylines...

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where to eat in richmond | dot's back inn

My sports bra got twisted around my shoulders and wouldn't budget another inch. It wouldn't have mattered very much, except that I was standing bare-breasted in a parking lot filled with departing football fans. I pulled and yanked and writhed, Zander standing behind me with a blanket moving right to left, trying to censor the very public show I was putting on. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get the damn bra untwisted and over my boobs. With one hand, Zan continued to hold the blanket. He used his body to shield me while using his free hand to maneuver the rolled up bra. With a great heave I finally pulled the bra down, shimmied my goodies inside of it and stepped outside the blanket. Now, to put on dry underwear...

I came up with the perfect date for Zander last week - something that would get us out of town for the day, let us be outside, and appeal to his hobbies. I printed out tickets to attend the Washington football team's training camp in the new training center in Richmond. We packed a cooler and headed to Richmond at 9:30 Saturday morning for the 2:00pm practice. We assumed a 2-hour drive would leave us enough time to check out the downtown area, grab some snacks, and get to the field with enough time to find great seats.

And that's what's known as "best laid plans." Traffic had other ideas for us.

After 4 hours of stand-still, creeping, crawling, parking lot style traffic on 95-South, we drove into Richmond with attitudes as sour as lemons and headaches from the pure insanity of it. Okay, I had a bad attitude and a headache. I walked if off on the 3/4 mile walk to the field from the parking lot, and by the time we were looking for seats, I was excited again.

The skies had looked ominous all morning, and we'd had a few showers on the way down, but our weather apps swore the rain would be intermittent and manageable. So we weren't worried when the clouds started to pool together and the sky went from gray to grayer. At 1:40, we maneuvered our way into a spot right on the 50-yard-line.

At 1:41, the sky directly over the field flashed white and yellow with a bolt of lightning so close I could make out its shape. We looked at each other nervously. "It'll pass right over," we both said and nodded.

At 1:42, the clouds couldn't hold it anymore, and the entire sky over Richmond poured down pelts of rain so thick and with such a fury they stung when they hit. I think we looked at each other in total shock for a second before we cracked up. The absurdity of the whole drive down, realizing we left the umbrella in the car, the distance we were from shelter, the complete certainty that practice was now canceled - we couldn't stop laughing.

We got back to the car with pool in our shoes, our clothes soaked to the ends, and our hair matted to our heads. I had a change of clothes from another best laid plan (to work out before leaving that morning), and that's how I found myself stripping behind Zan's SUV. It was a wonderful kind of misadventure, and I loved Zan all the more for his sense of humor, willingness to shake it off, and mostly, suggestion of a great restaurant for lunch.

We'll forever remember Saturday as the day we drove 11 hours to have lunch at Dot's Back Inn. Dot's Back Inn is a 1950s, Rosie-the-Riveter-themed diner with serious culinary prowess.The chef is classically trained, it has been featured on Diners, Drive Ins and Dives, and the burger with pineapple is legit. And - they have $2 beer! We were not in DC anymore, Toto! Dot's was the perfect antidote to our soggy, rained out plans.

if you go...

Dot's Back Inn