THE WEEK OF TORREY

Chris had a celebration a few weeks ago. It was called THE WEEK OF TORREY. Chris invented it and Chris celebrated it. Of course he brought me along for the ride. It was my birthday on July 19th. It was a Wednesday. It wasn't any big deal...or to me it wasn't. However, Chris has a different spin on birthdays. To him, birthdays are HUGE. Hence the week long celebration.

The celebration began with my mom taking Chris and me out the week before since she was in town and would be back home by the time my birthDAY rolled around. It was then, in the restaurant parking lot at the top of his voice, that Chris declared THE WEEK OF TORREY having begun.

The following Monday Chris surprised me by setting up appointments for my best girlfriend and me to have a facial and a head massage at a spa in town. It was incredible. What guy thinks of setting up an appointment and then think of inviting your best friend along? That's right. No one...except my amazing husband.

On Tuesday Chris took me out for sushi which is one of my favorite foods next to chocolate, pizza, and my mom's oyster sauce chicken wings. After dinner he took me to the mall so I could go shopping and buy a dress of my choice. Again, what guy does that?

Wednesday was the real deal. It was my official birthday. If you were to ask me, a great birthday celebration consists of going out to eat and having the people close to you call and tell you Happy Birthday. A card of two also helps. :) My mom and sister called. My dad's call is encompassed in my mom's call. My brother's card and gift arrived on my actual b-day and two co-workers remembered it was my birthday. Not half bad if you ask me. For Chris, not good enough. He made me blueberry pancakes for breakfast and stashed a card in the dash of my car for me to find. He also took me to the Melting Pot which is an amazing way to ingest 5000 calories and walk out feeling like your skin won't stretch over your organs. It was a great day. It was a great birthday. But sadly, it was over. Or was it?

The following day Chris dropped my car off at the paint shop as my final surprise to my birthday. He had the hood of my car painted. I was in a car accident about 6+ months ago and had my hood replaced with a spare part. The spare hood had never been painted so was black. I liked to describe my car as a two toned ghetto machine. Chris had decided it was time for his wife to stop driving a ghetto machine. It was extremely thoughtful and was very exciting when I was able to pick up my one toned car and drive it home.

Yes, I think I have the best husband in the world. The only problem is, what the heck am I going to do for his birthday?

Indy Hash House Harriers

Everyone has different roles they play. For example, I am a daughter, wife, sister, niece, aunt, social worker, Christian, friend, etc... Chris and I can now add to that list of roles. As of last night, we are now Hashers.

Hash House Harriers (hhh) is a group of adults who get together for a game of hide and seek of sorts. Two "hares" get a 15 minute head start from the "hounds" or "hashers." The two hares bring with them chalk and flour. They create a trail through woods, water, construction sites, or anything they deem appropriate. The rule is that the trail must stay on public property. Being a veteran cross country runner, I figured I had this thing down since in cross country we spend our lives following a line that has been painted on the ground. That is what I expected: a solid line. WRONG! What fun is following a line?

While the hares were out creating the trail, the chalk talk commenced. It was here that I learned the trail might not be as easy as expected. The hares throw down a bit of flour letting the hashers know they are on the right trail but there are also symbols indicating the hashers have reached a intersection and need to search the area to determine the correct direction. The hares also put down marks that can be an incorrect trail. Chris and I ran into one of these last night. After going a quarter of a mile out of our way, we reached a marker that stated we had to count back twelve marks before we would be on the correct trail.

Oh, there is one more thing the hares do to slow down the hashers. The hares put beer on the trail. Amazingly enough, it works! The hares write "BN" in flour which means beer is near and the hashers must search for it. Once found, the socializing that started before the chalk talk begins again. When the beer is gone or the hashers start to get the itch to continue, whistles are blown and everyone picks up where the trail left off.

Last night's trail was an arduous one that weaved through a heavily wooded area and across streams. I managed to roll my ankle which the seasoned harrier behind me saw. He yelled "ankle traps" and the message was passed via yelling to all the runners and walkers that were behind us.

Hashers have their own language as well. When a trail is found, "on-on" is shouted which is then shouted by all those within hearing distance and carried on so every following behind knows. There is also the "on-in", "on-after", "down-down, " etc...

When the trail, which is anywhere from 3-5 miles long, ends, the runners wait for the walkers to arrive and more festivities begin. Virgin hashers are given a ceremony for making it through their first hash. There is much bawdy singing as violations that have occurred while on the trail are given out. Violations are handed down in the form of having to "down-down" a small amount of beer. One virgin hasher wore new shoes. Two others wore shirts with another race logo. Competition in any form is a huge violation so apparently the breast cancer run is competitive enough that wearing the shirt is a violation. Also, the first person to complete the trail commits a violation because for them to have come in first, surely they were running competitively. Chris and I were violated for being too passionate but being that we showed no affection at all (until we were given the violation and I planted a sloppy kiss on him) I think the hasher meant we were too in love. I liked that violation. :) I was also made to "down-down" for having a July birthday. The "down-down" is put into a plastic cup which equals the amount of beer inside of a small dixie cup. When the hashers have finished singing "down-down" and the cup is empty, you indicate that by placing the empty cup on your head...

I could write so much more about this incredibly fun experience but I will have to save some for later. Chris and I will be in Boston next weekend so we will miss the next hash and after last night, we are very sorry to miss any.

As I end this lengthy blog, imagine 30 grown adults running around blowing whistles, shouting to one another, getting lost, drinking beer, and laughing all for any passer buyer to see. Who wouldn't want to do it again?

2006 Formula One race in Indianapolis, Indiana. This is my part time job. It has gotten much more part time the last few years. I used to do a lot of modeling when I had a job that was very flexible. It is impossible to live in Indiana and be a full time model so all models are part time which means squeezing it into the already busy daily routine. Modeling means the phone rings and if I want a job, I need to be available during the work day usually one or two days later. It is almost impossible to plan around with a full time job and evening or weekend jobs are almost non-existent.

The only modeling I will do this year took place this past weekend. I am one of fifty girls who represent the United Sates at the Formula One, aka: United States Grand Prix. It is always a fun and exciting time. We are known as the grid girls and participate in the opening ceremonies at the race track. We help create the grids that each driver starts the race from. There are two girls at each grid. One of us hold the actual grid sign for the driver. The other girl holds the flag of the country the driver is from. I never said it was a hard job but it is a very fun job. The Formula One race is unlike any other race in the country. The elite, frequently the most wealthy from around the world, come to this race. Huge amounts of money are spent and if I am lucky, one of my wealthy friends takes Chris and me out. This year Chris already had plans so another girlfriend and I spent the race in a very nice suite. It was a great view to see the race plus they had free food and drinks. Poor social workers are always up for free food and drinks.

The other fun part to the weekend are the parties we are invited to. Red Bull is usually the sponsor and being one of the grid girls, we get an invite to each private party that Red Bull throws. Last year Chris and I got to rub shoulders with one of the Ferrari drivers...no not Schumacher. The other perk to the parties is people watching which truly should be a sport in and of itself. The outfits, the hair, the jewelry...all is great fun to watch.

But the event for this year has come to a close. I will wait eagerly for my check from my modeling agency so I can go on a wild spending spree for something exotic like a water softener or towel rods for the bathroom. The possibilities are endless.