Wednesday, March 31

No, I'm NOT one of "those" girls.

You ask if he's enlisted.  He's not.

You ask what boat he's on.  He's not.  Technically.

You tell me I'm just like the others.  I'm not.

Yes, I may have followed him out here, because I was at the end of my rope.  Jobless, I struck East.  A chance to make it big, remove the "long-distance relationship" from my title, and have a little fun in my 20's.  Now I'm here.  And enjoying myself.  Don't try and crapshoot on my day because you think I troll for Navy Officers like a Mexican child selling "chicle" over the border in Tijuana.

I'm not.  I try to be the best partner to someone who's chosen a very difficult, demanding career.  You go home every night to your wife.  There'll be times where I come home alone for months.  But I wouldn't change it for the world.  I'd rather be in a deployed situation, than not have this boy in my life.  You know you have something solid when just an email can make you laugh, cry, miss him, but love him more.

Yes, our life is uncertain.  Where we'll be in 5 years, who knows?  But where will those friendships be that I've struck since being involved in the Navy life, they'll be there.

No, this lifestyle isn't cozy.  No, it's not glamorous.  And no, it's not envied.

But it's my life and I chose it.  I could have parted ways in college when Mr. Wookie wanted to confirm, for sure, that I knew what I was getting myself into.  A cute offer, but I didn't bite.  Even when I didn't have a clue what we got ourselves into.  But I'm stronger for it.  I know we can withstand a 7+ month time apart.  Then see each other, fall right into place, as if life didn't miss a beat.  Can you?

So judge as you will, assuming I'm just another one looking for a free ride.  Sorry to disappoint you.  But more sorry for you because you have nothing more than assumptions to base your opinions.

Tuesday, March 30

Sometimes I think my stomach would rather eat other organs than wait until after Tuesday yoga to have dinner.

Do you know how hard is it to not have a beverage immediately after work???  I think I might die.  Or go into a dehydration-based coma.  This isn't pretty people.  The things I do for my health (Half Marathons, yoga, 8+ hours of sleep).  You'd think my stomach/liver would understand.  They must be men.

And tomorrow's not any better.  Not only is Zumba not until 8pm (die!), but I have to be at work until 6pm (!).  Again.  No beverage.  This kills me.  No, it's not a dependency.  It's a relaxing technique.  Otherwise I my blow a gasket when I come home.  Decompression is a must.  And I usually find sanctity in Sailor Jerry.  Because the Navy knows best.  Or at least, I let them pretend they do. ;)

Then there's Thursday.  Sometime that day and through the weekend, we're hosting more visitors to the great state of the VA.  But more on that later when it occurs.  Because I could totally preface the logistics, but it'll be better via blog.  That and I'm not sure how things will turn out, and I'd rather not disappoint my readers.  But we'll see if it's better than the time I convinced 2 people to box naked.  Oh, did I fail to mention that?  Actually, I didn't.  I had a blogpost totally written up about it, in explicit detail, but Mr. Wookie didn't think it kosher to print such a story.  So I didn't.  But yes, it was completely insane.  And yes, I'm thinking of a career in politics because of my ability to talk people into anything.  You're welcome.

And for those who need more Little Man in your life (which I can't blame you)...

Mama Ging wanted his "Touchdown Beavers" photo up on the blog.  Enjoy.

Monday, March 29

Does anyone actually like Mondays?

It's now past 7am, and I have no motivation to get moving this morning.  My hair's still in the towel turbin.  Robe still on.  Lounging comfortably in bed, blogging.  Cheerios long eaten.  While a thunderstorm annihilates outside.

I slept in the middle of the bed last night.  That's a first in forever.  Even back in the long-distance days I'd still only sleep on "my" side of the bed.  But apparently I was getting uber comfortable last night.  Or I was secretly missing my roommate.  But he should be here tonight.  Which is good.  Because there's only so many times I can try to hold a conversation with a tankful of 3 turtles whose only missions in life is to bask on their wooden platform.

And there's just something about spending a weekend alone, in a town where you don't really know anyone, and the freakish thought process of, What if someone tries to break in???  Because there's nothing like scaring yourself on a Friday night.

So I need a baseball bat for protection.

Yes, we have guns, but they're downstairs.  And probably not loaded.  And I'm awful at shooting.  Minus the '22.'  I'm like a sniper with that.  But I don't know how useful long-range accuracy is when someone's just trying to steal electronics.  We all know the turtles would just coward and hide.  Minus Mr. Friendly.  He'd want to be fed again.

But am I really ready for a dog?  I mean, me...not us.  Mr. Wookie grew up with dogs.  I grew up with cats.  Cats are easy.  Unless they're neurotic redhead'd cats (the parents have one).  Then I just want to give it to the Korean family down the street for dinner.

Obviously this apartment is not the place for animals.  People in the building do.  But most of them are miserable human beings who hoard themselves indoors all weekend, and they're only worthwhile relationship is the dog they take out for bathroom breaks.  I.  Don't.  Want.  That.

But it's time to get ready for work.  Unfortunately.  Hopefully today is one of those days where the coffee at work tastes really good.  Like the Work Fairy sprinkles Qualudes in there to make everyone forget it's a Monday.  I like the Work Fairy like that.  And when she super speeds up the work clock and it's 5 o'clock already.

Maybe I should add her to my Christmas card list...

Sunday, March 28

For once, I didn't spend today in pj's.

What's wrong with me?  I don't know.  Maybe I'm trying to make the most of these pesky little 2-day weekends.  Darn America and our obsession with work.

So after I saw how warm it was outside today, I knew I needed to get out.  Because yesterday barely broke 50.  And while 50 isn't 30, 70 is definitely not 50.  And these freckles won't come out for just any temperature.

So I strapped on my running shoes.  It's been exactly a week since I donned these sneakers in the chasing of a Personal Distance Record of 13.1 miles.  As you can see my D-tag still on my foot.  But the bigger (pun intended) issue, look at my legs.  It was about a week before the Half when I asked Wook if my legs were bigger.  Like a male, he doesn't think about his response and says, "Ya."  Well thanks.  Just want I want, legs that look like Serena Williams.  So here's to buffer legs.  And faster times(?).

And after my 2.5 miles of carefree, lackluster jogging (because I didn't feel like really doing anything more), I exchanged in the promise for a webcam session with Grandpa Sheriff and the Little Man.  He was pretty attentive today, minus when his lunch decided to make an encore performance.  But the Sheriff's laptop was spared, so no worries.

But now I feel a bit guilty revealing this little secret of mine...

So I totally made a gourmet dinner tonight.  I don't know where it came from, as far as the successful creativity in the kitchen, but my zucchini-asiago cheese pizza was AMAZE-balls.  Along with my side salad above, I was swimming in yummy-full-stomach.  Hopefully this creativity continues into the week so Mr. Wookie's stomach can profit also.  Maybe it's working that stresses me out/kills my creativity.  Just another reason for that trust fund...

And what's dinner without a $5/bottle of really-good-for-$5 Cabernet?

So now I've showered, pajama'd, and blogged my day.  What's next?  Trying to finish my hippie housekeeping book.  By the end of the month.  Because then I'll only be 3 books behind on my goal for this year.  Feasible?  Yes.  Possible?  Jury's still out.  I'll be betting more on the 500 miles for this year, but that's just me.  But there's still time.

My Weekend Alone

Friday was a good day.  Mr. Wookie packed up his bag for 4 days in Asheville, North Carolina, visiting his dad, while I packed up my lunch for a turned-out-to-be-somewhat-tame-of-a-Friday at work.  Plus, no suit.  Always a good day.

There's just something about days that allow me to pretend I'm still in the Hippie State.  And a wonderful day of rain does just that.

 Weeeeee, commuting to work!

Best reason for being at work on a Friday at closing time??  I get first dibs on the waiting area flowers.  And I do not leave a man behind.  All of these yellow bad boys made it home with me.

And per usual, Friday night was lackluster.  A couple adult beverages, pajamas, and in bed before 9:30pm.  It's a great life.  You're probably jealous.  I know, everyone wants to be a Ging.

But Saturday was Mission Day.  Mission: Total Apartment Clean After Having Guests Last Weekend.  And of course, I stayed in those awesome pajamas.  Because who showers just to get dirty/sweaty/miserable?

 Pristine kitchen...

Pristine bathroom....

 Pristine bedroom...

Pristine beer collection...

Oh wait, have I failed to mention?  This is, I believe, Mr. Wookie's third brew from the Wookie & Co Home Brewery.  Would you like a taste test?  Come on over.  But be's tasty.  And yes, we have a pull-out couch for you to crash on should you indulge a bit too much.

 Because Mr. Wookie needs a canvas...

 Mmmmm, iced tea...

Exactly one week ago, I was getting drunk rehydrating on the beach after my first Half Marathon.  The weather couldn't have been more perfect.  And now one week later...COLD as balls.  And I just packed away my lesbian winter socks because I was convinced Spring was here.  Well, of course, Mother Nature is a bitch.

Saturday, March 27

For Just One Hour.

Standing on my soapbox, I recommend everyone kill their electronically dependent lifestyle in honor of Earth Hour.  If not for the Earth, for the cute little panda.

I'm a panda, aren't I cute?

Visit for more information on how you can make your state better.  Unless you live in Oregon, because your state is already AWESOME.

But remember: 8:30 - 9:30 on Saturday!  Don't be dim.  Be dark.

Friday, March 26

Because he's FREAKIN' adorable.

Can you tell I bitched to Mama Ging that Little Man needed more blog time?

 "I'm adorable!" - him, singing

Why is this lady standing on the sofa trying to take my picture?  Paparazzi!!!

You mean you're NOT going to email these IMMEDIATELY to my blogging Aunt Ging?  So she CAN'T tell the world how adorable I am???  Now I'm so sad.  Just look at my quiver lip!  LOOK AT IT.  Now YOU cry.  You should feel ashamed.  Now go get me more Beaver gear.

Wednesday, March 24

The Yuengling Shamrock Half!

It was difficult at times.  If it wasn't, everybody would run one.  But it was also super fun. Otherwise, no one would run one.  Der.  Pre-race, I was gearing for a 2:30-2:35 mark.  Hitting under 2:30 would be incredibly stellar.  But clocking in at 2:33...still freakin' sweet.

And the crazy part.  We want to do more.

So while I wanted to take video mid-run, giving updates on the miles, I was a bit preoccupied with not barfing at 6.5 miles after trying a "Gu," passing 10 miles on a steady pace, and getting through miles 11-12.  I was very happy to see the Finish Line.  So was my liver.

But I instead put together this video with some of the clips I was able to take.  And yes, this is not a Martin Scorsese picture.  This is a Ging picture.  With plenty of room to grow. Hopefully.  Because I have more races to run!

These shirts are awesome.  We can only agree.

 Look at that grimace.

Check out our medals!

Rehydrating.  Very important.

 This is me.  Very happy to be done.

Monday, March 22

The Running Bug Has Bit Us...

I once read that a Half Marathon was not what your first race should be.

Well they can suck it, because we had a blast.  And we've already looked at potential next races.  Sick?  Maybe.  Energized for more?  Definitely.

I'm working on a video montage to come.

Sunday, March 21

13 things learned on 13 miles.

1.)  It'll be cold on race mornings.  Now you know to wrap yourself in trash bags.  These are a cheap fix that you won't mind ditching 1.5 miles into the race.

2.) Write a letter to Pepto Bismol saying how much you enjoy popping 2 tabs before a Half Marathon.  Not only do they save you from having to use the port-a-potties mid-race, but you miss out on the post-race "issues" that plague others.

3.) A mild sunburn on your left shin is a welcome war wound from trudging through 13 miles for 3 freakin' beers on the amazing beach of Virginia. Yes, I just said that.  Oregon's coast are great for Goonies re-creations.  Not really lounging with your bestest enjoying your recent athletic endeavor.

4.) I definitely thanked every volunteer who handed me water.  They deserved it.  They didn't have to be there.  I'll return the favor soon.

5.) Running "gu's" are disgusting.  It tasted like bile in my mouth.  Not the best taste at 6.5 miles.

6.) Before the race, use the restroom.  But pocket some of that toilet paper because after the race, it'll be in short supply.

7.) Not everyone finishes.  Be proud in that fact.

8.) Mommy McD could totally handle a Full Marathon.

9.) Don't sit down in the shower after the race as you clean up for going out for dinner.  You won't get back up.  And yelling for help, naked on the shower stall floor is not glamorous.

10.) After running a Half Marathon, 2 beers get you buzzed.  3 get you very happy.  And 4 is just icing on the cake.

11.) For the rest of the day, your racing medal is the perfect accessory.

12.) It's not about the body type, it's about what's inside the body.

13.) Thank you Dillard's for the heavy-industrial bra.  I don't know what I would have done without it.

Saturday, March 20

Happy Shamrock Yuengling Eve!

With a little help from Simon Pegg.  Because he's awesome.  Even as Shaun.

Due to a huge carb-heavy lunch around the 4pm mark, I definitely wasn't hungry for a big-ass pasta dinner tonight.  So I had a banana and will try and choke down some crackers as I'm still full from "linner" or "dunch" and am partially anxious about attacking those miles.

So here's to Run Fat Boy Run. And Pepto Bismol.  And Sport Beans.

It's morning and I'm chipper as usual. Suck it.

I'm up.  No one else is.  I've started laundry because it's Saturday and I have things to clean.  I don't care if it wakes anybody up.  By this time tomorrow,  I should be done/nearing completion of an awesome 13.1 miles.  That's taking into the severe time delay it could take to get 8,000 bodies over the start line.  

Mommy McD keeps referring to it as "gun time."  I giggle.  Who are we kidding?  We're not Ultras.  We're 2 thought process-lacking friends who thought it'd be fun for a morning to run for beer.  And now we're less than 24 hours out.  Awesome.

Last night I was berated again for not getting/being married.  This time by a guy...who kept reiterating how much money I could gain from that little piece of paper.  Okay, buddy, a.) I wouldn't see any of that because it'd be on Mr. Wookie's paycheck.  Secondly, isn't marrying for money something that is frowned upon (less, of course, it's going to set me up with a hefty sum after he croaks...because he's old after all, and Anna Nicole is my idol)?  And thirdly,...well I don't have a thirdly at the moment.  But it was odd to be reprimanded by a male for not being legally bound to someone.  I thought they had better things to do like stroke chest hairs, compare militia arsenals, and drink Scotch on the rocks.  Besides, most men avoid marriage like the plague.  But apparently this guy brought his soap box last night.

I think it was Mr. Wookie who broke a water glass last night at the bar and the liquid proceeded to run down onto my shoe.  "Leather shoe, leather shoe, LEATHER SHOE!"  Apparently my Clarks: Artisan Collection are no match for a spilled water glass.  My spilled water glass.  Because Karma's awesome like that.  And I guess it's time for a new pair of shoes.  Sold.

I'd really like to get a pedicure after this whole run tomorrow, but I just don't have the toenails to paint.  When I nervous, I'll start messing with my toenails. So now they're just short nubs.  And I'm running tomorrow, so there's no time to grow them out just for green polish.

And speaking of green polish, I walked into Claire's yesterday with the intent to purchase polish so I can have jazz nails for the race. But then as soon I saw that the bottle was Oregon Y(D)uck Green, I did an immediate about-face and high-tailed it outta there.  No way could a proud Oregon State alumni stoop to such levels.  And now I'm heavily debating not wearing green to the Shamrock Races because the color has the tendency to offend me so much.  So I may be in green.  I may be in hot watermelon.

Friday, March 19

Happy Packet Pick-Up Day!

Who's excited for a Friday of NOT being at work???  This blogger RIGHT HERE!

Today I spent the day toiling around the house, doing a little housework, and a little out-and-about-playing alone.

Ya, this is our "dining room table" - here it's strewn with wine glasses, a soup lid, and my laptop. Because blogging is important.  Duh.

Again, my "office" is a hole.  I really need a desk.  But we just don't have the space.  But guess where I'm blogging from right now.  This chair.  With a heaping vodka tonic on my chair.

Maybe my New Year's Resolution should have been to be cleaner.  Maybe...

But on to more important things, today was PACKET PICK-UP DAY.  Sunday is THE race day for our Half Marathon.  Training long done, today is the day for pick up our supplies and swag for efforts.  Score one for the been-bitten-with-the-running-bug buddies.

We have packet pick-up papers!  Gimme my number!  Bitch!

This the Charlie Foxtrot of a parking lot.  And this was right after they opened.  On a Friday afternoon.  Geez, people, don't you have jobs!?

Convention Center time!  So excited!  Let's hope this excitement continues through to Sunday, through race time, and afterwards as I'll pound beer like they're going out of style.

Hippie love for the hybrid/electric cars.  And Mr. Wookie doesn't find the need to take a picture of this sign.  I like to document the hippieness outside of Oregon.

My number!  I wonder if there's a way to track my progress online.  If so, I'm sure the Sheriff will figure something out.  He always does.

Can you see that?  The final number of the 8K??  24,000 runners?  Are you kidding me?  That's going to be a mess.

My motto.  My absolute motto.  I'm a drinker with a running problem.

We have our packets!!  Score!!!  And I was able to pick up Mommy McD's packet also without a hitch.  Good.  Because no one wants an angry Ging.


So I went to Dick's Sporting Goods today and scored some Nike Dri-Fit tops.  I was going to wear the green shirt on Sunday, buuuuuut I'm not really feeling the green color.  It's a hard color for a Beaver grad to swallow.  So I may rock the watermelon color.  We'll see.

In case I need some energy on those hefty miles.  Wait, I mean, when I need some energy on those hefty miles.  It's 13.1 miles...who are we kidding???

This is my swag shirt from the Expo.  And I realize it's kinda hard to read while I take a picture in the mirror.  But you'll figure it out.  Because it's me.  Der.

And for Mommy McD, this hot pink shirt courtesy of Women's Running in Florida.

And today was amazing because it was Chaco weather!!!  Hello ladies...

Lunch anyone?

And in case you were wondering about the post-race festivities...

And for those who need a close-up of these bad boys.  It's love.  Pure love.