Addition to the Beaver Gear

For those who know it's game day in Corvallis, know that the Fields Family have been summoned by all things Orange and Black to make the 3-hour drive north.

And with football games come massive tailgaiting efforts, which have tripled since Middle Sister reached the legal drinking age. I like it when family members are after my interests. And I can only think of the possibilities when Baby Sister will be legal.

Now if only I could attend more than one game a season.

But until then, enjoy the Sheriff's new cold beer decor. And the Drop Top too.

New Yoga Pose: Done.

My right side wavered a bit while trying to stabilize myself with a leg in the air.

Obviously not me

But the left side held, almost perfectly, just a slight wiggle in the body. Awesome.

Good Morning and Happy Halloween

I've been up since 6:30am, working on my projects around the house.

There's lots to do today, including posting the drink menu on my party website.

Yes, I said party website. I'll share those details with you later.

And hopefully I'll be able to take pictures of the place before it becomes inhabited by costumed folk with festive drinks. No promises.

And now it's 8:36am.

Yoga's at 9am.

There's still another 10 minutes on my pumpkin seeds roasting in the oven.

I love fall. It's my favorite time of the year. But once October's gone, November will be over in a blink. Then December and *poof* Christmas. So here's to the end of the year before it flies by. Cheers 2009, you've been good. And bad. And a learning experience. And a transcontinental experience. Prost.

If You Only Learn One Thing: Don't Piss Off The Ging

Dear Unbelievable @$$hole Parked Inches From My Car,

I know those lines that mark the spaces dictating the separation of cars seem rather similar to the cocaine lines you love to snort, but I assure you they're there for a freakin' reason.

You stupid son of a bitch, did you not learn how to park in Driver's Ed?

Oh wait, I forgot, the system in which the East Coast learns to drive parallels the budgetary ability of California.

I hope you enjoy that love letter on your window. But you're probably too stupid to realize my tactful manner of making fun of you since your highest level of education was probably Recess.

But next time, know your large ass Buick isn't a f***in' "compact" car. Or next time my real compact car will be shoved so far up your ass that you'll be blowing chunks of Oregon license plate out your ears.

And you're the same kind of person that should be sterilized to prevent procreation. We need less of you people in the world. More people with f***in' common sense. But alas, common sense isn't so common. Unfortunately we're back to square one.

You're lucky I drink to relieve my stress. Otherwise you'd have bash marks into your passenger side door. And your spark plugs removed. And I'd shove a dead baby in your tail pipe. And find a guy to piss on your tires. And I hope you hit a median tonight and flip your car.

So you're welcome for my not leaving a blazingly irate letter on your window.

Next time, I will.

Best of luck you piece of shit...

Sincerely,

Someone-who's-had-a-very-rough-day-and-is-now-enjoying-a-well-deserved-vodka-tonic-while-watching-Constantine-and-wook-carve-pumpkins

Blogosphere APB

Ugh. What a morning. I hate today already. And it's only 8:38am.

Oh let's start, shall we.

First, this morning was a tear-the-apt-apart because I can't find my phone. Story of my life. Where'd I see it last? Well, I was yacking at my dad while at Gator's (sports bar - not my first choice for last night - just wasn't in the mood), telling him that his choice of a Reuben for dinner was quite delicious. We finish beer #2 (Bud Select, alcohol content -47.6 carbs), then head home. Quite passive.

This morning...can't find my phone. I'm pissed. I always do this. I can never find anything of mine. Keys, cell phone, brain, wookie...I'm always losing things. Anyways, wook takes on the task of trying to find it while I'm getting ready for wook. (He has the day off, fyi).

So by the time I'm ready to leave for work, still no phone. I'm annoyed. I need it. What if something happens. And it's not like we have a landline to fall back on.

"Take my phone."

I don't want your phone. A.) It's not mine. B.) I don't know anyone's numbers. C.) It's an Apple product. D.) What will you have then?

So I take his damn phone. We're convinced it got left at the bar (we know the bartenders so it's not a complete loss), so wook will head there when they open. 4 hours from now. Groan.

I'm about a block from work when I get a call...from my phone. Huh??

"Your phone is freezing my ear."

I don't get it. I didn't leave it in a car, because a.) I'm driving my car right now, b.) I haven't been in wook's car in days. So I still don't get it.

"I reached into the fridge this morning to grab some Half 'n Half (for coffee) and there's this orange phone staring at me from atop your leftovers."

Wow. Really? Idiot Of The Day award. My phone spent a cold night in the fridge. My phone went through SERE. My phone spent a night about the Deadliest Catch boat, Mighty Reuben and Coleslaw Leftovers. So I still have wook's phone and am taking messages. Wook, you have a meeting at 11:30am. I'm apparently Joanie for the day. Let me know if you have any questions.

The Broken Sheriff of Oregon

What happened? I'm still not clear. But the Sheriff's a little busted in the face.

He needs to learn to handle his liquor if he's going to be getting into barfights.

Or keep growing out the stubble and be Mike Rowe for Halloween.

And I'm betting that the grey sweatshirt he's wearing is Beaver Gear. Yay!

But seriously, Sheriff, what happened? Too many shots? Too much Guitar Hero?

Is This What People Think Of Me?

I'm offended. Horrified. Embarrassed. Undoubtedly taunted. Ridiculed. The end.

Who am I kidding? This is hysterical. I can think of someone from Alaska who would love it. But then again, he's a proud owner of a Love Mew also. Thanks Dr. Kevorkian!

The Namaste Gods Are After Me

Yesterday was no different than any other day. Get off work. Call one of the parents. Yack on drive home. Get angry and stupid drivers. Get laughed at (by mom) or talked off the ledge (by dad). Make it home. Park car. Lug 3 blocks home. Cross busy street. Since it's Tuesday, get dressed and walk to yoga. Namaste, right?

No. There's a kicker...

Right before class, I meet this girl who asked in a thick Portuguese accent, "Oh, was I supposed to bring my own mat?" This is a yoga class. Yoga. class. Unless you want to use one of those loaners, which just reminds me that you forgot your PE uniform for 8th grade gym class, yes, you need a mat. "Oh, it's okay, they have some to use. But try and bring yours next time."

So now I'm thinking, oh great, another newbie. I really need to get around to asking for that intermediate yoga class. Something where we don't have to break down all the positions for those who are just picking up the practice. Snobbish? Yes. But how else do you get better?

But then Darryl brings it. And not only does he bring it. But he brings it to me.

I thought I was going to die. Okay, not really. But I was sore leaving class. And I'm slightly sore today. Guess I had it coming. Stupid me.

Below you will see the intermediate version of the side plank. Leg on the knee. Easy.

Then you see this crazy leg-in-the-air-concoction. Oi ve. Now that's a yoga pose. I could draw my leg up to my knee and finger my big toe (sounds dirty, but it's not, I promise), but the extension is where I couldn't quite get there. It's amazing the whole-body strength needed to just bust a leg in the air. It's my goal for the week. Abs, arms, hamstring flexibility. Advanced side plank here I come.

The Family Comedian: The Sheriff

A friendly conversation as the Sheriff hit I-5 and I was already at work.

Sheriff: "Good morning."

Me: "Yawn"

Sheriff: "Too many Snickers?"

Me: "Hey, lol"

Sheriff: "Ha ha ha ha"

I make one comment about the temptations of Snickers and he's the next Chevy Chase.

Seriously, Dad, more golf/beer/Beaver Gear/East Coast traveling, less picking on me.

Happy Belated Birthday Presents To Me!

Since it's still my birthday month, I'm not counting these as too far out. Don't worry.

But I was very excited to get a ton of mail over the course of Saturday and Monday. And more than just bills and Open House flyers. It was good mail. Yay!!

We have 2 packages for Sister Ging from the Great State of Orygun, one from Dr. Stacey Kevorkian, and the other from Baby Sister.

And yes, the card's bent. The Postal System is not the most brilliant in the world.

I love that she included our singing Miley Cyrus' song to each other (Party in the USA).

Back Story: I was very disappointed to learn this was a Miley song, as I think she's kinda...well...crap. I thought it was someone British considering they're singing about USA and all. Guess what? Wrong. But now I can't get it out of my head. And so we text/facebook-wall write/leave voicemails of lyrics to the song.

Yes, we should have had more chlorine in the gene pool. But it's too late for that.

And for my birthday, the bitch got me this. As Stacey London would say, "Shut up!" I love it. And excuse the outfit and hair. I just got back from the gym. No judging.

The only issue. It's a little big. But we're looking into smaller sizes at Pioneer Place.

And because Dr. Stacey Kevorkian never misses a beat. She even labels her cards!

Read very closely, the outside. Confuse yourself with the cartoon drawing.

Now die because you understand the depiction. And wook made fun of me because of how loud I cackled. Then I made him read it. Then I wasn't alone. Punk.

Yay...cookbook!! See mom, people do take my birthday lists seriously! Amazing, lol.

And another "Shut up" moment. It's a hot-pink-morphs-to-deep-purple scarf!

And this works out perfectly with my work wardrobe. I've recently begun a pioneering fashion trend in the office. It's called Hot Pink Fridays. And it's catching on. No, seriously. In all honesty, people are starting to make sure I notice their hot pink on Fridays. It's the wave of the future.

Thank you both for these awesome gifts. And Sarah too for my killer green tweed skirt. I'll try and document my first dinner out of the cookbook. And if we can fix the sizing issue with the shirt, I'll be sure to wear it every weekend. Okay, except for when it's stinky and needs to be washed. And the hot pink scarf will be a Friday favorite as the weather's starting to turn cold around her and my bird neck is retracting. Happy Belated Birthday to me!!

The Opinion of Baby Sister

She wanted to get me a shirt for my birthday. Awww, what a sweet sister.

This is the one she had in mind. Glad to know what she really thinks of me.

What I Want Out Of Today?

Well for starters, more sleep. There's only so much snooze-hitting you can do in the morning and still feel rested. I started out in my flannel pajama pants, but then got too warm so I had to stick a leg out. Then I got too cold, so I had to move the leg back in and scoot closer to the bed buddy. Then I'd get warmer and stick a leg out. Vicious cycle repeat.

And yesterday, I didn't get all the laundry done I wanted. I was worried about whether I'd run out of laundry detergent. And I didn't want to purchase a sub-standard one just to get the rest of the loads done. I'm particular about my detergents. I want my Ecos, but it's a difficult one to find out here. Usually I have to settle for a mainstream detergent which "brags" about it's 25% post-consumer plastic bottle. Not my first choice. But it beats driving all over the city for one laundry detergent.

But there's still 4 loads left. Just staring at me from piles on the floor. Gigantic land mines that have invaded the bedroom loft floor. And wook's not very good at not stepping on the piles. He didn't grow up with persistent training of how to avoid any and all toys on the floor. Apparently I have a better base for ninja training than he. Cool. But still, this ninja-in-training needs some clean clothes. Especially 'roos and socks. The bare essentials.

And as much as I want this week to just fly past, there's lots to be done at work. It's one of those weeks where both work and personal lives are crammed, and I don't know when I'll have time to breathe. Work party I'm planning. Halloween bash wook and I are planning. It's a very full plate. And Sunday will be a welcome sigh of relief. But that's after Halloween on Saturday. I can't wait. Well...actually...I can.

Halloween Can't Come Soon Enough

Good news: Wook bought a back of snack-sized Snickers in case our building get hit by Trick or Treaters between the hours of 6pm and 8pm.

Back story: The entire Hampton Roads area (Norfolk and a 30+ mile radius) has an ordinance in effect that severely restricts the fun to be had on All Hallows Eve. You can't be over 12. No masks. Parental supervision required. Blah blah blah. Talk about no fun. But anyways, the local government says that there are instances of gang-like groups going around and terrorizing neighborhoods, children are being hit by drunk drivers, etc. My thoughts: it's Darwinism. But that's coming from someone who Trick or Treated as a Senior in high school. Like I'd pass up free candy, people? What did I go as? A college student. I wore sweats. Brilliant, I know.

Bad news: I opened the package Saturday morning. They're just staring at me now. Eat me. Just one. So tempting. And only 80 calories each. But of worthless nutrition. Then when you eat a handful, you've just replaced lunch with a sugar crash in an hour. So not worth it.

When's Halloween again? For the sake of the candy, come soon. And bring Trick or Treaters. Even past 8pm. Just make the candy gone. And not because of my sticky fingers.

What's The Rule On Couch Sleepers?

I ask because we have a couch sleeper. From last night. Because we went out.

Mom, obviously you can tell that I went out as opposed to going to the gym after work. Maybe I'll get there this afternoon. After my hairdid. Hopefully the Beavs will show up.

Anyways, back on topic.

When am I allowed to go down to our first floor (we have a loft, people, so there's not a spare bedroom or any door to close to hide the fact that I'm blogging my debating)?

Would putting away my clean dishes be offensively loud to someone past 10am?

Do I wake them up with one of my "GOOOOOOD MORNING!" moments (and you who've fallen victim to my "Goooood morning!!!" know what I mean)?

Do I start making breakfast so they'll wake up?

Do I read blogs that make me crack up out loud (sometimes, that happens)?

Do I not turn on the turtle lamp because turtle lamp = turtles who think it's day?

I ask all these things because I question whether or not I did something. It's past 10am on the weekend, so I'd like to get motivated around my place with all the cleaning I have to do. Since I got back later on Sunday evening from the weekend in Woodbridge, I wasn't able to do my laundry/put away my new purchases/clean up from the week before, etc. So now's the time. Minus my hair appointment sometime this afternoon. I have to call the salon to check because I don't know if I wrote it down. Woops.

Anyways.

I've put away my clean dishes. I loaded the washer again. I picked up from the potsticker mess from last night (you know it was a long night when potstickers are unleashed at ungodly o'clock in the morning). I haven't started more laundry because the dryer could wake someone 3 floors up. And I'm blogging while laying in bed since the common area downstairs is being inhabited by someone with a slowed pulse, closed eyes, and a blanket draped over them. But, I mean, it is after 10am, I think I'm in the clear, right?

I hope so. But it's not like I really care. Considering I've done just short of murdering a cow on the first floor. It's 10am. On a Saturday. With a Ging that needs her breakfast. Let's get moving. Even if she is planning on breaking family tradition and having French Toast on Saturday, not Sunday. Somethings are too good for me to wait 24 hours for.

Where's Poppy?

Let's play a game. The Sheriff is on business in Portland, and whether you guessed it or not, will be staying at the Chateau de Baby Sister. And like always, there's a texting battle of where to go to dinner. And who gets left out? This blogger all the way on the wrong coast.

So last night was a hit on the Deschutes Brewery in the Pearl District. A brewery that originates out of Central Oregon (for those who have heard of the Deschutes river...woah....2...and...2...together! Nice work, Carmen Sandiego.) My vote was for Ol' Spaghetti Factory since the nearest one out this way is the one wook and I hit up during Christmas last year in Nashville, TN. Norfolk to Nashville, toooooo far for mizithra. I complain about driving 10 minutes to dinner around town.

So we'll see if I get an email tonight/tomorrow morning spiraling me into a depression because I'm on the wrong coast, with the wrong food (you know how hard it is to find Hawaiian - impossible!), and the wrong beer (Sam Adams, Shpam Adams it's generic and bland and lacking all things integral for a great beer - next!).

And in case you can't tell...that's the Sheriff's hand in the picture. Probably texting.

What Does $170.27 Get You?

A great weekend. With my bestest in Woodbridge. Known to the blogosphere as Mommy McD. And her 2 gremlins/trolls/pieces of adorability. And her vehicularly magnetic husband. And a whole bottle of red wine. And that was just Friday night. Money well spent. Let's do it again.

But first, a trip sponsored by the Five Guys Corporate Hummer. Sorry dad for hanging up on you so quickly. But look at that precision photo taking ability. All while going 75. I mean 70. I mean the speed limit. Superb. And I did call you right back. So no complainsies, right?

First stop, well, Saturday morning after ditching Husband 1.0 at home with Offspring #1 and #2 for...pedis! Oh please. Yes, please. It's been forever. Like Spring Break. I know! Too long. And while it wasn't Perfect Nail, May I Help You? (inside family joke!), it was still Asian. "You want raza (razor)?" Umm, sure? So I had my feet razored. Apparently my calluses were a bit much. I was slightly offended. Slightly humored. And slightly embarrassed. But whatever. They're just jealous. My eyes are bigger. (Too much?)

Price tag: $37.00

Then we hit up Target. Yay! It's been forever since I've gone shopping with a girl. Usually it's me and my .45 in the ghetto surrounding Norfolk. This time it was suburban Target; white picket fences, 2.5 children, with a dog and a yard Target. Muuuuuch better.

So after 2 rounds of trying things on (I'm still on a mission of increasing Corporate Wardrobe, so this shopping trip fell in that category), I was successful in purchasing 5 tops, 2 sweater vests, some 'roos (underwear for the laymen), and awesome argyle socks.

But one thing couldn't be left at the store. This fabulous pencil skirt. How Joanie is this?? Green tweed. I mean, seriously! This just screams 1960s. If only I had a wiglette to rock. And I didn't even have to pay for it! Mommy McD demanded it be my birthday present. Oh, okay, twist my arm. I'll take it. Happily. And now that I think about it, we still need to do our photo shoot with your birthday present. Next time. Okay?

Total cost: $133.27.

But onto the good stuff. The McD household. 2 boys, under 4. The means of my nickname "Aunt Bop." The reason I sleep so soundly when I visit (I'm tired!).

I've known B-Rox since he was -5 months. And Kenny was a Buddha Baby that I've grown to love. Put them together. It's fun. It's hysteria. It's Aunt Bop crawling around at their level of the world documenting the crap they do to their parents (Mommy and Daddy McD).

No, really, the crap they do. Like tie strings all over the door handle to where Mommy McD has to cut it off. How? I don't know. They're little McGyvers, I tell ya.

And look at this little man and his awesome pajamas. Let's not forget those killer slippers. They're baseball hats. One day he'll know that he wore the slippers of the Back-to-Back National Championships Oregon State Beavers. One day.

This is Kenny tilting his head in a quizzical manner. Anyone not falling in love yet?

And I dare anyone to try taking emo shots with wound-up toddlers. It's hard. Especially when they're all grabbing for the camera. But this'll have to work. Because I don't know if I could wrangle them again. But I'll accept monetary donations to fuel another trip to attempt.

And they wanted me to take a picture with the Moose. I named it Sarah Palin.

And I leave you with a taste of the boys in actions. And they were calm.

Mommy McD, I'll check my calendar and let you know. I need another trip.

Crossing My Fingers

I go away for one weekend and who gets sick? The wookie.

So now, I'm pumping myself and the wookie full of Vitamin C, Yogi Immunity tea, multi-vitamins, and prayers. And hope that I don't get the crap that's going around.

I mean, who doesn't want to catch the crud? I know I wouldn't mind losing the Football Five that's acquired itself onto my booty this football season. But seriously...

Now when does Friday arrive? I'm dying for it already. And it's only Tuesday.

Here Friday, Friday, Friday...

This Afternoon's Braxtonism

Brax: "What are you doing?"

Aunt Bop: "I'm packing."

Brax: "Why?"

Aunt Bop: "To go home. I have to go to work tomorrow."

Brax: "You have to work?"

Aunt Bop: "Yea."

Brax: "You don't have to work, you're my friend!"

This Morning's Braxtonism

Aunt Bop (me): "I need to de-stink."

Brax: "What's that?"

Aunt Bop: "I need to shower."

Brax: "I want to join!"

The Family of 'Passengers of the Week'

This trip sponsored by Dramamine. Because you never know when this blogger will get the random case of nauseousness because of former Air Force pilot flying techniques.

And Pepto. Because sitting for long hours can cramp the digestive tract. Stuck on an airline is the last place I'd want an upset stomach, nausea, heartburn, diarrhea, or indigestion

.
Goodbye Norfolk. Not a teary farewell at all. Let's just get in the air. I need sleep.

Sunrise out the window during one of my conscious moments. Rare, yes.

So story time....

After landing in Sacramento and transferring over to the old terminal that was reminiscent of Long Beach (i.e. gheeeeetttto), I jumped my last flight to Portland. The motherland. All things right. The Northwest. The beacon of rain, Columbia jackets, ice storms, and great beer.

Anyways, so I'm on a Horizon/Alaska Air flight. For those who don't know...this is the greatest airline ever. No bag fees. And freeeeeeeeee beer/wine on flights. Yes, free. No price. Full pours. Flying with a buzz, greatest feeling ever.

As Marie Claire (otherwise known as the Best Flight Attendant) came through the cabin offering to top off people's beverages, she gets to me.

"Ma'am, more Widmer Okto?"

"Yes, please. I live on the East Coast, so this is a special treat to get such great beer."

Then the world stops spinning, after she tops off my beverage. You won't believe it.

She plops down a full 20 oz. in the seat next to me. "Have a nice trip." Seriously?

And who's excited for my ass to be back in town?? You know it. Baby Sister.

Greatest state ever. Well, maybe behind Alaska (although I haven't been there yet). Not counting Sarah Palin. Ugh. But yes, welcome to the wildnerness. The mecca of outdoorsness (okay, behind Montana). But still, a pretty awesome state. I'm partial. Very.

And for Middle Sister, her favorite kind of vehicle stickers. The Stick Family!!

And what's Oregon without real cheese. You'd think being in Virginia would provide ample amounts of Wisconsin cheese. Fail. Not really. There's Vermont. And it's very lackluster. It's generic, at best. This is heaven. Via cow product.

Let's finish off this blog post with a little car singing from the Baby Sister. Enjoy.

Mom, Dad, pay no attention to the lyrics. Hay, love it. Trac, you're next. Cheers!

Last Night's Epic Braxtonism

Daddy McD: "Did someone fart?"

B-Rox: "NOT ME!"

This Galoshes Are Made For Walking

The latest addition to don my perfectly sized-8 feet, minus the slight stench that can eradiate from them (which is totally my mom's gene pool, despite her laments! Sorry mom, we love you, but the feet genes passed along to Brother and I can raise the dead. Shorry!!).

Oh why, what's this? What perfectly circled tape. Could that be a target? Oh, how cute, Target's target. What a clever play on words.

This box showed up sometime in the morning. Wook told me about it sometime in the afternoon. Why did he wait? "I didn't think it was important." Oi ve. This blogger loves shoes, loves rain, why wouldn't she want to know if the shoes that are meant for the rain have arrived? Silly boy...

Yes, unsightly shot. Pasty leg. They look much darker in this shot. But I love 'em.

He doesn't see the reason in the constant pictures. He obviously doesn't understand my fan club. I mean, I'm important. People need to know about me. And vice versa (hint hint, for those who don't have blogs...it's a great bandwagon to jump on). And yes his shirt is from CafePress.com.

And an awful picture of me in the reflection of the shower stall. I have no mirror. This is the best there is. This is how I get ready in the morning. And yes, that day was Dress Like a School Marm day. It was cold out, so I opted for a button-down and sweater combo. Yes, not flattering. Very bulky. But I stayed warm. And I know it's not very Joanie from Mad Men, but that was more of a Peggy Day anyways. Besides, it's the boots that are important. Now oogle.

One Back-Logged Blogger

Yes, I know. I'm very, very, very behind. But I've also been very, very, very much trying to catch back up in my non-blogging life.

1.) First, I worked crazy hours trying to get things set at my office while I'm off galavanting for 5 days in the "Oregon wildnerness."

2.) Then I had as much fun as humanly possible catching up with family, friends, places, eateries, beverages, tailgating, football...and did I mention my family!?!?

3.) Then there was the delay, in which I still need to write my nasty gram to United.

4.) Then I worked super hard at work to get caught back up on what I missed and what needed to happen after my return.

5.) Then there was finding time to sleep.

6.) Then a Squadron Ball.

7.) And I never posted about my NEW GALOSHES which got broken in today - thank you Mother Nature for providing the excellent downpour.

8.) There's the hockey game I WON the Office tickets to last Saturday.

9.) I've done a bit o' work-clothes shopping lately, which needs to hit the blogosphere.

10.) And lastly Jim and Pam got married. I could have cried at parts. Jim was so sweet. Then Michael had to ruin it for me. Good thing. I hate getting emotionally attached to shows. Oh wait, too late.

So here's to catching up to the blog this weekend. If I can. I do have a slight roadtrip in mind. 3 hours North. To invade upon the McD Fortress. And prove to those munchkins yet again that, "Aunt Bop rocks." And to get a pedicure. Because Mommy McD and I need it.

I Forgot How Good They Are

I had them after my lunch break. While fending or "fending" off the munchies.

Looks like the munchies won if I chose this snack full of vitamins and minerals.

I'm just secretly adding to what-I-now-call the Football Flab. It's those 5 extra pounds you gain during football season because of the ceremonial beer, bratwurst, beans, cookies, chips, Pond Water (it's a beverage - but more on that later), jello shots, and overall over-indulging of football food because you're team is winning/losing/losing when they shouldn't (been there, done that, more times than we should).

But dang, Doritos I've missed you. Not too much though. That 250 calories per little bag is enough to keep you away from my grasp in favor for yogurt and granola. Sorry. It was a sweet, small reunion. But somethings are meant for the memories.

Busy Bee

This blogger is dying to put up everything from her vacation to Oregon to the Hockey Game last Saturday night.

But this blogger also got off work at 6:30pm last night.

My goal is to get at least half the posts up before Friday, since Friday I'm jumping ship for Woodbridge, VA. Home of the McD clan. Home of 2 rugrats who kill me. And their mom who's a peach. And the husband's not bad too, when he's not bolting in front of vehicles on a flimsy bike.

So that'll be posting material on its own.

Can I get a mental health day? Pretty please. Since I didn't get Columbus Day off. No Happy-Columbus-Didn't-Actually-Find-India Day for me. Boooo. Okay, well I want National Ginger Day off then. I mean, it's only fair.

Better Than Syringes

This is your trashcan. This is your trashcan on drugs. Any questions?

That's all coffee. Or, to be correct, that was all coffee. How do I spell out addiction? D-U-T-C-H B-R-O-S. It's a coffee provider from the depths of Southern Oregon that's taken Oregon by storm. There are still hardcore Seattle's Best-ers, Starbucks-ers, Allan Bros-ers, etc., but since we hail from the depths of So. Oregon. It's home. And when the Middle Sister's Boyfriend works there, it relieves the pain of the wallet when you add all those dead soldiers up.

But seriously, Tracer, it's time for an intervention. Or at least try a reusable mug.

I've Been A Little Amiss

So Tuesday was my beloved birthday. I intended to carry out the tradition all week and keep up the spirits, but work was a heavy load this week. And so, I failed my mission of Birthday Blogging all week. Sorry folks.

But let's hit the highlights of the week.

Wednesday was a very busy day which thankfully ended with happy, fed people. And happy, fed coworkers (I love when guest counts are lower than expected).

My night only got better as I walked into my place, only to be greeted by the one, the only Mr. Andy Mew, of Alaska. The man's a legend. And he's back from deployment. And that means one thing: Scotch. Well, for him. I had 2 vodka tonics. With lemon. And we caught up. Without wook. Because he had a 6am flight. Ya. In that early. No thanks. Andy and I'll go out instead.

But let's fastforward to Thursday morning. I wake up. AT 7:45AM. I LEAVE FOR WORK AT 7:50AM. Oh, shit. So I call my coworker, tell her I just woke up, and I'll be there when I can. And I know what you may be saying, "But you did stay out all night drinking." I had 2 drinks. And bars around here close at 10pm on weekdays. That means I was in bed before 10:30pm. Not nearly the rough and tumble night that can be assumed. I wish I had a story like that. Instead my story is, my phone didn't go off.

So you can imagine the amount of body spray I used to cover the fact that I didn't shower. Not like the headband and wavy hair didn't give it away.

And lastly tonight. I started feeling like crap at lunch. My whole abdomen just aches. Not in one place. Just all over. It's like heartburn, but belly burn. It's weird. I haven't WebMD.com'd it yet, but I will. But first, I have to make dinner. Yes, I have to make dinner. I'd rather just go to sleep and wake up feeling better. But the wookie and I need to eat. And wook cooked all week. My turn. Bad stomach or not.

A Birthday Teaser

Three days ago:

Me: "Hey, you should get me Shaun of the Dead for my birthday."

I don't ask. I tell him. It's my favorite zombie movie. It took me awhile to get into. But that's because someone didn't tell me it was a British zombie spoof. I took it as a real movie. But now I'm hooked. And it's not Simon Pegg. It's "Shaun of the Dead." Not "Hot Fuzz." Not "Run, Fat Boy, Run." Get it?

So when I elect to open a present before I head off to yoga in 10 minutes, I opt for the DVD. (Back story: I always get a DVD for each gift-giving occasion, because when we first started dating I only had 3 DVDs. Wook thought that was incredibly sad. So he's still fixing that notion. My collection has thusly increased. That's right, I said thusly. End back story.)

So do I see when I rip away the pretty wrapping paper from the shiny case?

"Get f***'d, four eyes!"

The boy not only delivers, but had purchased the DVD weeks before I mentioned to him I wanted it. Stellar. Tell me he's not a keeper. Well, I mean, you can try, but I probably won't listen. He got me Shaun. He can do no wrong.

Wednesday, October 6, 1983, 6:49am

If only I had this button to wear around the office to promote my Princess-ness.

Instead, the other Today Birthday and I are wearing purple in honor of our shared day. Now if only I could get permission to lounge in a hammock all day, drinking beverages from the Cabana Boy while getting a footrub...I'd be a happy person. But instead, I'll be working. Extra hard. Big day tomorrow. Thursday and Friday are downhills. Bring on the weekend. But first...those almost-so-cleverly hidden presents I found that night. Come to papa!

The Accidental Investigator

Me: "Hey wook, where are the jars?"

Wook: "They're under the...mumble mumble."

So I look underneath the junk drawer, in what I shall coin the junk cabinet. There's everything down there. Our million reusable grocery bags. The tool bag. A hack saw (you never know when you'll be forced to perform a Civil War-era amputation).

"Ooooooooooo, what's that?????"

There are some boxes. Pretty boxes. Wrapped boxes. Are those birthday boxes????

Me: "Is that my birthday present????"

Wook: "Woman!!!!!!"

Spoiler alert. I found my wrapped presents. In the junk cabinet. Because wook wouldn't think that I'd look there before tomorrow. Instead I was trying to be the good roommate and do the dishes after he slaved over dinner. He said I should have been irresponsible just one more night so the cat could stay in the bag. Well, guess what. The cat's out. And it's exciting. I jumped up and down like a 6-year-old who finally got her pony. Well, I'm assuming that's what I would have done had my parents actually gotten me a pony. In fact, I wanted a Clydesdale. Still do. Because I'm tall. But I knew that was never in the cards. And obviously never was the pony.

But back on topic.

I have presents. Already wrapped up before my fabulous birthday. Wook's a sly one. He pulls the stunt about, "Oh no, what do I get you for your birthday? It's tomorrow." Lo and behold, the boy went out while I was traversing the country and picked up some goodies.

What are they? I don't know yet. But I'll keep you posted. You know that.

In Honor Of Getting Older

Tomorrow marks another year of noticing wrinkles on my forehead. Of gradually making my way to the 3pm early-bird special. Of nodding off to sleep before 9pm. Of hitting the officially-over-25 mark. The downhill to 30. Happy 26th Birthday to me. Tomorrow. Less than 4 hours.

So for those who've nagged me about "what I want." Here's a starting place...

1. A cute passport cover (because no cover isn't cute)
2. Emily Post book (or other fashion books)
3. Funny Girl (Barbra Streisand's award winning role!)
4. Paint by number wall art (I don't know if it exists, but it sounds cool)
5. Okay, any kind of cookbook (that's not British, lol)
6. Cookbook stand/holder (Target, Ikea, Crate and Barrel, etc.)
7. Gift card to Macy's for new bras! (It's that time of the year, people)
8. Gift card for work clothes? - specifically Corporate Wear (Gap has tall buttondowns, Eddie Bauer has tall buttondowns, etc.)
9. Another magazine subcription?? (I have Cooking Light...so Women's Health? InStyle?)
10. Yoga sticky gloves (I slide, everytime)
11. Hanes white wife beaters - mediums (they're my go-to workout tops - classy, I know!)
12. Made In Oregon gear (only the best!)
13. Or some stellar West Coast gear would be acceptable (cafepress.com?)
14. Hypoallergenic earrings (because I don't like ear sludge)
15. Speed-dry nail polish - both work and fun colors (because I'm 12 and only have 5 bottles)

I know it's an awful starting place, but when you turn 26...you don't really need much. Now "want" is a different story. Here puppy, puppy, puppy...

And in the ideal world I'd get Belgian waffles with strawberries and whipped cream for breakfast in bed, after sleeping in until past 9:00am. But in this lifetime, wook gets a 5:30am wake up call to be on base at 7:00am. So much for Happy Birthday Ging! At least I get to sleep into tomorrow. Unlike today. 5:30am was too early.

Happy Birthday me. The downhill-to-30-at-26 me. The it's-totally-okay-to-start-lying-about-my-age me. The it's-my-birthday-so-treat-me-like-a-princess me. No really. Prin-cess. Crown. Saber. Pageant wave. The works.

Must...Must...Must See

Amazing. I'd see it again. It's shares the top zombie spot of Shaun on my list.

The theater applauded when this was over. And some people came in costume. I haven't laughed that hard since Forgetting Sarah Marshall. The same time wook laughed so hard he popped a contact out. Superbly funny. Delightful. I kinda want to see it again. This movie critic gives 2 thumbs and a cocktail up. Why a cocktail? Well, why not? The day ends in Y doesn't it?