Tuesday, April 22

The backyard. Wanna visit?

This is the last picture I'm told I'll receive until I jump across the States and welcome myself to our house. Man, he's mean. All I want to do is know EXACTLY where everything is so I'm not a freakin' stranger around my own possessions when I arrive. And he prefers to egg me on with little to no information as to the decorative status of our home. I was told to, "Get better and get here." Oh, right. Because it's quite simple to scream through the next few days that are my last in my office before boarding a tormenting cross-country flight to a State that has non-California weather all with a smile on my face? And have I mentioned I caught ANOTHER cold that's kicked my ass? Seriously. So much for being a beacon of health in my last days as a "Californian." But hey, this means I'm the culprit on the airplane that's going to be hacking up a lung. Maybe the seat next to be will be clear.

Friday, April 18

My bags aren't packed. I'm not ready to go.

My heart raced through my chest as my boss came into our department and shut the door. The look in her eyes were saddened. She rolled the empty hair into the room and took a seat. I knew what was coming next.  They didn't. She drew in a big breath...

She explained things were changing in the next week. I watched and listened, my heart still pumping beyond necessary speed in my body. My coworkers jaws dropped. My life plan for the last four months was team fodder. They asked questions, and I answered with complete honesty.

My boss's eyes quivered when she looked at me. I told her, "Stop it! It's not like I'm dying." But then I realized...it is like I'm dying. I'm the life of my team - I'm the energy, I'm the entertainment. Monday morning after I leave will be a somber event commemorated with an empty desk and quiet coffee pot chatter. No one will be there to joke about how I don't take customer calls until after a cup of "anti-bitch juice." And the YouTube videos of playful Bulldog puppies won't draw the shrill of excitement as my puppy ovaries are prepared for 2014.

Instead I'll be working the other coast's hours and barely overlapping with my old crew. It's going to be different and I don't know if I'm truly ready. Maybe Bailey's in my coffee will help. Yes, that should do it.

My replacement desk. It's like the loaner PE clothes from junior high. Gah.

Thursday, April 17

What it's like to stay behind.

It was a difficult day when he dropped me off at the airport for my journey back to California while he began the long journey to our (again) new zip code. We spent a week gallivanting around California as a mini-vacation between stations since this state is absolutely amazing (ocean, mountains, trees, lakes, and more). I bravely walked into the counter to get my ticket and make my way like a Baton Death March to the United gate XX at Reno International Airport and Tire Care.

I broke down once the doors were closed to the airport and I tried to shuffle to the security area.

I don't do well when it's my decision to leave. It's something I can't explain. When Mr. Wookie took the bus down to San Diego to ship out on the USS 'Bout Time, it was a sad morning...but nothing too overwhelming. I knew this was just the band-aid rip for the year and he would be home before I knew it. But when our lives are upended for my career, I feel more - I feel more pain, I feel more guilt.

So it's no surprise when my "mopey-ness" was at it's peak last week. I didn't see it when I was in it, but my boss saw it a million miles away. I was called into her office. I sat down. We agreed. I need to finish my preparation in California and schedule my shift to Virginia. So that ticket is purchased and my extraction date is set. I'm ready but damn, I don't want to go. This place is magical.

Why are my lips blue? I don't know. But there has been one benefit to staying behind and being mopey - there's been some super shopping to help perk me up. I've picked up super long sweater tanks, new summer dresses, linen pants, JCrew shorts, and a cute pair of anchor boxers for my gorilla. Now how am I going to get all this to my new home?? Maybe I should have thought about that before the debit card was raped.

Wednesday, April 16

Mrs. Wookie + 48 Hours + Vegas

Nay to flying Southwest Airlines and their inability to hit an on-time departure (and subsequent arrival time).

Yay to befriending two delectable looking Australians in Southwest's neck of LAX. (Shocker) I was ordering a margarita when the bartender asked me if I wanted a menu for dinner. "No thanks, I'm drinking my dinner."
"'eah Mate, did you just say 'I'm drinking my dinner?'"
"Uh, yes."
"F*** yeah, Mate! Cheers!" (Australian then walks over to talk...and I leeeeeet him!)

Nay to getting into Vegas around Midnight and not getting dinner.

Yay to the delivery service of Starbucks by the one and only Sheriff! And super YAY to the extreme comfort that a real bed gives the soul. Damn, air bed living sucks. But hey, it could be worse...

Yay to Mama Ging and Sheriff capturing the hearts of Little Nephew with their photo op with the Minions.

Nay to the wear and tear of a single pair of shoes for 3 days (Friday at work, Saturday walking around Vegas, and Sunday walking around Vegas).

Yay to the new shoes purchased at DSW. I mean, Mr. Wookie...no new shoes were purchased. None.

Yay to the great times had with the parents during the rare trips. There was ample cocktails, ample people watching, just a scoot of gambling, and only one tranny encounter.

Oh and yay to catching some AMAZING stand-up by the one, the only...Tim Allen. He was truly entertaining and much different from his television personality of clean-cut comedy. I don't know who f-bombs more: Tim Allen or a sailor. He had me cackling while I sat between my parents and flailed with excess when his stories had my sides in stitches. Seriously. He's worth the pricetag. Plus, it comes with bragging rights with Mr. Wookie.

Sunday, April 13

What happens in Vegas...

...stays as a lifelong lesson as you teach Mama Ging how to work the Texas Tea penny slots. Although this time I didn't donate my typical $50-100 to the Great City of Vegas. Instead we spent it on something more awesome and had a VERY jealous Mr. Wookie.

But let me enjoy this real bed for a moment. Damn, it's comfortable.

Thursday, April 10

Mr. Kitchen, nice to meet you.

"Excuse the hammer." -Mr. Wookie

Every few days grant me another picture or two if I'm lucky of how my new surroundings are slowly developing from Box City to Home. And this gem of a photo has me "oooooh"ing and "aaaaaaahhh"ing more than some people in a shoe store. We're still unsure of my extraction date from California, but I know I'll gladly walk through the back of the house and enjoy the spacial living (at least spacial compared to living out of a suitcase, on an airbed, and in an office-like space). I mean, who'd choose an airbed over a real bed?

Saturday, April 5

so wait, where are you living?

So yes, where am I living? It's an interesting story, it really is. Ready? Okay, we go.

I'm still in California, soaking up the sun, and living the dream....on an airbed. Remember that time where I was hustling like a pimp to keep my job remotely? Well, snap, this fish is still employed with her company! I'm "unfortunately" lagging behind in sunny, amazing California while he's caravan'd ahead to score us some digs and set up the Wookie & Co. Remote Office Space! It was a great mutual decision that technically leaves our family separated for a few months, but for the sake of dual income...WILL TAKE IT!

Woop woop.

The big news came after the New Year when I was called into the boss' office. I was told to take a seat and I was preparing for the worse. 10 minutes later my smile was larger than Kim Kardashian's ass and the text went off to the gorilla,

"Prep the champagne for tonight."

He probably assumed I scored another huge deal and just wanting to celebrate. [My other huge deal was a record for my department - can you imagine if they didn't keep me??? Record sales rep gone!] Instead we had even more good news and the brainstorming began for how we would tackle this new "challenge."

So until I'm ready to go across, he's hustling like a boss setting up our new home. Though he does have me to contend with. I'm kind of annoying...."Babe, how goes it? Pictures??" I want to feel included with the move-in, I want to feel like I'm helping and have a minute say in decorating (though not like I need it - he's gay in that department).

He's a punk and only gave one picture the day our shat was delivered. Doesn't he know I'm needy? I want to feel a part of the move-in, not that I'm just lounging in California, sipping wine, enjoying the beach, hanging with friends, and making eggs benedict - you know, that I have my priorities in life!

At least he's being honest with the unpacking - priorities first: decorate the fridge, the rest will follow.

Friday, April 4

new orders. new home. new blog?

i know things have been very crazy lately and this blog has gotten more dusty that a vacuum during deployment, but hey...i'm only human. right? his homecoming was insane, the holidays hit without warning, then our things were packed up faster than California could kick us out, and i was left homeless on the streets (okay, just kidding...but my accommodations revolve around an air bed). but life is looking up, in a lot of ways, and i need to share it with family.

Monday, December 9

25 Days of Christmas: Ornaments and Memories!

Sorry we're a little behind in all of this - sometimes a girl just has to catch a cold and then get drunk off hot toddys in order to avoid the pain of constant mucus running from my face (I literally had to sleep with hankies on my pillow because my nose just. wouldn't. stop). But let's get to the action!

6.) What's your favorite Christmas ornament?
7.) Most memorable Christmas?
8.) Post a picture of Christmas decor
9.) Easiest person to buy for?
10.) Favorite holiday scent?

Day #6
Our family implemented the new ornament each year until 18 (or so), so the early 80's ones are definitely cute and different since they're wooden and probably coated in lead paint. But my favorite ornaments are the interactive ones. From the bullshit notion that "every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings," I do love having a bell on my Christmas tree. Though last year brought this gem:

That boy is just awesome.

Day #7
Somehow I think trying to pull a favorite Christmas is like trying to choose a favorite offspring (but clearly, parents, its me). How do you rank Christmases (or is it Christmasi?) between the different families? I've had some crazy times with my family in Hometown, Oregon; but I'm pretty sure Mr. Wookie claims psychological scars with the amount of people and volume level that typically happens when my family cracks the wine and hangs for the holidays. And there's been great low-key events with Mr. Wookie's side where we pick up candy at the supermarket and then trek to the movies (seriously, genius; no lines!).

So I'm going to answer with "Switzerland." I can't choose. Though, again, this one is pretty special. He'll be home!

Sunday, December 8

25 Days of Christmas: GIMME GIMME!

And we're back in 5.......4.......3......2.....1, "Hi, welcome again to the Wookie & Co. daily blogging of all things mistletoe-y, festive, and alcoholic. While, yes, I did contract a strain of sinus cold that kicked my ass to infinity and beyond, I'm Backstreet's back. Now where did we leave off?"

Are you enjoying the fun?!?! Seriously, what's a better way to get into the Christmas spirit than to endlessly talk about yourself and annoy your fellow bloggers with the BEST HOLIDAY SONG EVER (take that Well-Adjusted Pessimist!). ;)

5.) Best gift you've ever received?

OOOOooooooo, now this is a question to question upon questions? (Get that?)

Where do I begin? What category do I discuss? Do I thank my parents for the horizontal polka to which gave me life?? (You're welcome, readers). Where does my hammock rank in the gift list? (It's pretty effin' high up.) What about the sock money wine cover?


I think I'd like to rephrase the question (because I totally can write the rules). Let's convert it to, "What's the best gift you've received yet?" Because seriously, your ______ may later be surpassed by a later-received _______. My 24th birthday was pretty awesome as I was surprised by a weekend trip to Disney World from NAS No Thank You (Pensacola). Christmas 2 years ago brought a fancy shmancy DSLR to my life (which in all seriousness could use a new dog as the perfect theme for 2014, eh Mr. Wookie?).

Best Gift Ever
Port Call: Sorrento, Italy

This guy home for Christmas when it was questionable a couple months ago (we were told to mentally hunker down on 'end of January'). I'm still in shock and can't believe they're almost home. It's definitely a surreal moment after been jacked around to know that there will be another human in my house (other than my fellow girlfriends/wives who stay the night after we slay wine bottles like dragons). We have T-Minus _ days. Can I get an amen?

Saturday, December 7

"Do You Really Need to Work?"

We're taking a brief hiatus from the 25 Days of Christmas in part to a mega illness that I contracted (it's HIV, yo!) and the mental recovery of dropping the "work bomb."

I've toiled and I've troubled with this for a short bit. It was a mid-morning text from the boat (he really just emails my phone number, but that way we can have a 'conversation' when he's not flying/being awesome) when the words rang out. "We have Orders."


I remember exactly the day the last time this happened. I couldn't wait to give my two-week's notice then. I was burnt out and over the 'office drama' that everyone complained about (umm, I don't do drama). So one Friday, I walked into my boss' office and put my letter on her desk. "We're moving in 2 weeks." And that was it. My old job was a great blip on the employment radar. I learned a lot in life and corporate atmosphere (I worked as an Event Planner for a Legal 100 Law Firm). But damn, it wasn't hard to leave.

Now enter life in beautiful California. Other than this nasty cold spell that's plagued most of the Nation, life is perfect here....when he's not deployed, when our dog doesn't die, and when it's not rainy (like this morning). And so with a lot of counseling from past "work at home"-ers and business friends who makes sales look like stealing candy from a baby, I went forth with the plan to tell my boss the news of Wookie & Co.'s future. Almost everyone was in agreeance, "tell them early so they'll make the arrangements to keep a position for you just across the country."

Holy shit, I was an internal hot-mess.

I poured open the knowledge that our bags will be packed in a few months and the caravan across the great United States will begin. While we won't have a resident canine in tow to help make the miles more enjoyable with her lovable slobber and room-clearing flatulence, we have a petite gatita that's made a better friend than I could have imagined. So while we plan on shipping my car because it makes one less ass-pain, she'll be free to roam about the cabin as long as her tray table is in it's original location upon arrival each night and we can smuggle her into the hotel room like ninjas. Honesty is overrated.

What was I expected out of this? Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn, I wanted to provide ample opportunity so they can realize I'm not a commodity to lose. I wanted them to realize they have a few months to get everything in order for a remote Mrs. Wookie to answer the phone a week, "Good morning, this is Ashley" to my sales accounts and constant contacts. I wanted this not to be a band-aid-rip-off shock that I'm just moving without notice. I want them to pour over my sales records and customer loyalty. I want them to realize I'm a 'need' to the team.

But then the words left my boss' mouth as she soaked in the news...

"Do you really need to work?"

I. hate. these. words. And I can sense she was coming from a good place, however they just made me cringe. But she did warn that there is the reality that her upper management won't want a so-remote Mrs. Wookie, and that's the slice of pie I'll have to dollop with a mega coating of cool whip.

Who wants to help eat my feelings?

Define "need." Do we financially need me to work? No. We are fine with just one income (his). But what does that leave me? I get to be a housewife? Ummm...no thanks. Why did I go to college then? What would I do all day? I already feel like an incomplete person just after relocation because I have nothing 'going for me.' Yes, it's nice to settle into the house and explore the new area...but after 2 weeks, the jig is up. I'm a feminist with a pretty sturdy foundation that women can do a lot in this world (minus throwup after being kicked in the crotch) and that includes hustling a non-1950's Secretary paycheck. So why would I want to decline the twice-monthly deposits into the ol' bank account?

So my conversation ended just before the 5:30pm mark. I knew my boss needed a cocktail to soak in the news. And I need a drive home to escape. So into the car I got, tears brimming at my eyes, feeling like a failed at trying to negotiate my own future and happiness amidst Uncle Sam. I sent Mr. Wookie an email, but what I really wanted was a hug. A big, deep bearhug.

Once home, I didn't open the margaritas. I didn't open a bottle of wine. And I didn't open a beer. I sat on the couch with my loving feline, obtuse to any knowledge that I just dropped the "work bomb" as we've coined it. She just wanted a place to snuggle while my feet were propped onto the coffee table. And together we watched Jeopardy and then a marathon of Say Yes to the (Overpriced) Dress before calling it a night. But still...I tossed and turned the whole night. What will come of this? Will they make the arrangements to super-remote me? Will they offer a handshake and stack of letters of recommendation instead?

Part of me wishes I would have waited until Mr. Wookie is home that way I could have had the comfort of an actual hug with this situation. But out of discomfort comes growth, and this deployment has just reassured that I'm still as bad ass as I thought I could be (though sometimes it's nice to be a chickenshit, lol). So I just wait for my hug now in __ days (and get to cleaning the house before he comes home - crap!).

And yes, I've already started my secret Pinterest board for my Job Search 2014. I've worked hard for my resume, why give up now? So the suits and heels will get dusted off once we're settled, I'll start networking my old connections, and something will happen. Something always happens.

Wednesday, December 4

25 Days of Christmas: Turn Up The Tunes!

In continuing the trend of 25 Days of Christmas, on schedule (holla!), our next topic is:
4.) Favorite Christmas song?

Should you ever get to know me on a personal level, outside of the drunk-induced slur that occupies this blog, you'll come to learn and love my loud nature of voice immodulation. It's a genetic trait that allows brainwaves to generate between siblings and constantly and consistently annoy our parents to an early grave. They're very welcome.

With that, the holidays are no escape for our fun and entertainment. Poor Mr. Wookie tells me that my "(last name) is 'showing.'" Babe, seriously....that's not a threat. That's a high five.

My ab FAVE Christmas song.

Tuesday, December 3

25 Days of Christmas: Santa's a Fake, Yo!

In continuing the trend of 25 Days of Christmas, on schedule (woohoo!), our next topic is:

3.) When/How did you learn that Santa wasn't real?

I can't remember the exact year that the jig was up, but it was definitely later thanks to my parents running Navy SEAL night operations to keep the younger sisters still believing on the action. Though that doesn't change the tune of Mama Ging when she found out my dad had farmed out the Easter Bunny's duties to me at like 10 or 11 years old. :)

All parents,

Never let your 10-year-old daughter hide the eggs. She will torment the shit out of her sisters. The eggs will be MacGyver into the most asinine hiding spots. And I'll go back after they've whined and quit, and scoop up the goodness.

Yes, I'm mean.


Get over it.

They don't care. They've developed UGG habits that'll rival the set of Baywatch.

Monday, December 2

25 Days of Christmas: The Christmas List.

In continuing the trend of 25 Days of Christmas, on schedule (mind you!), our next topic is:

2.) What's on your Christmas list?

Ahhhh, yes....this one is a doozy. The Christmas list. The make it once, check it twice, re-edit for budgetary requirements since siblings don't have the funds the parentals do, submit to the family in a massive email, and then continue "Reply-to-All" so they're aware of updates since half the family isn't on PInterest to do an accurate stalking of daily activity.

Did you get all that?

To be completely honest, I don't know what to do about Christmas. We've been mute on the topic, minus Facebook (since I keep a separation between military life and work life), but there are Orders for us in the near future (time frame: 3 months). So what do you ask for when you're just about to pack up your life and trudge elsewhere? Exactly. I don't know either.

My Pinterest board could use the work, but I find working hard and playing hard way more fun than updating a Pinterest board for things that people can buy me. I've hit a recent "I don't need anything" phase with our impending relocation. Why buy me something that has to stay in the box until we move? Or what if it doesn't work with our next home? Or what if it....breaks?

Something You Want
What do I want? Minus a lobotomy? Oh, just another human in the home.

Something You Need
I honestly don't need anything. Okay, I lied. I need a new timing belt in my car since I'm 10,000 miles overdue. Dear Dad, you can add this to my list. Thanks!

Something You'll Wear
Well I'll always wear Gap Tall, Old Navy Tall, Banana Republic Tall, JCrew Tall, Loft Tall, Ann Taylor Tall, and every other store that slings tall-built dresses for us lanky, long-torso'd, life-could-be-worse ladies.

Something You'll Read
How about an instructional guide on what to wear to a Navy Homecoming Fly-In? I'd read that front and back, left and right, and probably search for chat rooms just to confirm that I'm not looking to corporate, or too lazy, or too poor, or too slutty. I'm honestly at a loss and the shopping in my area has left me saddened that I'll be reworking my own closet for that special day. Lame.

Have you welcomed home a long-lost aviator? What'd did you wear? What time of year was it? Did you keep the jacket on since the hangar is windy? Is black too depressing of a color?