T-Minus 24 Hours Until Goodbye Virginia

Good evening.  My liquid lubrication has mildly set in so I'm just now starting on my packing list.  I just finished a 9.5 hour day.  My feet are done.  And a little Mothership Wit was a necessity.  And I came home to Hurt Locker, so we're finishing that movie before scrounging for some dinner.  Probably out.  Because who wants to cook when I just leave tomorrow.  But dinner's still to be decided.  Maybe after the buzz wears off.


But you're totally jealous.  You wanna come with me.  Well, if I do bring you...via blog...you'll totally not judge me for packing less than 24 hours before my departure.  Deal?  Deal.


So I'm going to open the blog to answers of "What I need to pack!"  Because sometimes you need an outside set of thought processes to make sure you're equipped for 14-days in the English and Scottish landscapes.  The obvious notions are rain jacket, comfy shoes, toothbrush, but what about those obscure items.  Like Advil.  Because a headache that an English pint can't get rid of will ruin my fun.  And I need optimal fun.


And don't be shy!  Even you lurkers can join in.  We don't judge here.  Because I totally lurk also.  Sometimes it just seems weird to "follow" a friend's cousin, even though she's a way wicked photog in Utah.  Ya, maybe I'll get around to it, but not tonight.  Well, unless you're buying a Long Island Iced Tea in an Irish pub.  I will totally judge the shit outta you.  Because you need to learn.  Assimilate or die!  Or face embarrassment from the Ging.  Which is worse?

Thanks REI for this sexual tension over a backpack.

I want a new daypack.  I don't need one.  I want one.  Because there are so many rolling hills in Virginia that i can't keep up with the hiking.  Oh wait.  No.  No hills.  Just swampland.  Sadface.

Clicking on this pic will link you to REI - now go, SHOP!

Look at this backpack - isn't it beautiful?  And ORANGE.  And under $100.  Shwing.

I miss running. This surprises me.

I never considered myself a runner.  Because when you look like Phoebe meets a stripper flailing on the sidewalk, you assume your pension for athletic endeavors (i.e. running) are strictly a means to chase the ice cream truck, run the bases in softball, and tackle little sisters who'd steal your Lisa Frank folders.


But since starting running in November of last year with the brilliant idea of a Half Marathon, it can actually be enjoyable.  I say, "can" because running in the severe cold, severe hot, or severe ghetto suck.  And we have all 3 of those things here.  And I mean real ghettos.  Not just elk tents of people missing teeth somewhere in the thickets, aka Oregon ghetto.  Like government housing and Welfare babies coming out the ears.  That was a first.


So last night I decided that the only way to make running happen was on the treadmill last night.  And while it's not my favorite method of exercise, it was welcomed because the treadmill was located in an air-conditioned gym.  And air conditioning = good.  It wards off the boob sweat.


I just wish this summer wasn't insanely hot.  I think records were set last weekend.


But back on topic.  Running...

I continually stroll through RunningWarehouse.com oogling this Zensah compression socks that are at the top of my Christmas List this year.  They've been reviewed to good marks, and they'd be useful in more ways than just recovery efforts.  Stuck on a cross-country flight?  Wear 'em.  Pregnant and wanting to avoid cankles?  Wear 'em. Just think that hot pink knee-high socks are awesome?  Wear 'em.


And not that I'll ever be winning age divisions in races, I have my eye on a few...


Rock 'N Roll: Las Vegas
One downside: $145 entry fee.  But it is a night run...and that'd be AWESOME.


A Disney Theme Park Race
There's a Wine & Dine in the fall.  Yes, I like wine.  This seems like a nice pairing.


Crater Lake Rim Run
For those who don't know, this is basically where I'm from in Oregon.  Down South, and an hour outside this national treasure.  If the views don't kill you, the elevation will.  7,500 is not for the weak.


Any Turkey Trot
I think running a race the morning of Thanksgiving would be great fun.  And the end of running for the year, because Thanksgiving to Christmas is always way too busy in my book.


Pints to Pasta 10K
You're letting me eat AND drink after my race...I love you.  No, really.


Chicago Half Marathon
I want to do one of those ridiculously large races through a Downtown environment.  So how's 30,000 in Downtown Chicago?  I'd say yes.  Know anyone that lets bloggers spend the night?


Each day, when I'm bored, I find more races that entertain me.  The only problem...either the cost of airfare/lodging/etc, or that the races are too soon for me to sign up/train.  The locals that continue to run in this heat impress me.  But I guess that's in comparison to my coming back to Oregon and loving the rain like a Champion.  So to each there own.


But now I have a question for y'all.  Anyone up for a blogger run?  You know where to reach me.


Since I'm spending half of July out of the country, I think my next race will be sometime next year.  Because the heat has to die down some and I need to get the traveling schedule out of my system.  It happens every few years.  I have one summer where I'm glued to an aircraft.  It's the lucky part of my life.  Some people never travel.  But those people probably live in a Yurt in Alaska and have no need to venture outside their awesome landscape.  This is not Alaska.  It's the surface of the sun.  And the only long-distance running I want to do right now is towards iced tea.  Iced tea with a lemon wedge.

I finally got that booger outta my left nostril.

Let's start off with saying Welcome Back to the Blogging World, Gingy.  My readers, I assume, have missed me oh-so-very-much-but-not-too-much-not-enough-to-stalk-me-via-Facebook-to-see-where-I'm-at.  No, that was my last trip outta town.  Not that I gave that away too much on Facebook.  I was about to hit "publish" on a blog saying that we were running outta town for the weekend, but since today's Internet can pinpoint your damn location - I opted to not have my house potentially ransacked.  Paranoid?  Oh, you know it.  Only redheads can dream up such delusions.  Okay, us and the occasional hoarder.  OMG, I need this, I need this, I can't live without this half drank Double Big Gulp from 1997 that's been molding ever since.  Ya, I got a completely hit up a marathon Hoarders this weekend.  My life's complete.


But I'm back.  We got in last night.  Okay, yesterday afternoon.  Plenty of sunlight to spare as I didn't do a lick of laundry.  That can totally wait.  Because I don't leave for England in 3 days.


Our vacation destination: Raleigh, North Carolina.


It might be love.  Hippie love.


I'll say it out loud: I LOVED RALEIGH!


It was Southern.  Polite people, slight humidity, and cars that stopped for pedestrians.  But not too Southern.  They recycled, promoted comprehensive sex education, and I gurked it to some familiar Birkenstock's around the area.  I have a little thing for Birk porn.  So just gimme a second here.  And maybe a cigarette, Mrs. Robinson.


While it was super duper hot out, it wasn't nearly as sweltering as it was back in the Norfolk district.


And of course I documented the weekend, but I'm lazy at the moment and want to interest you with my words, not just my pictures.  It's like a game of I'll show you mine, but first you have to recite the first line of Moby Dick.  Quiz: What is the first line of Moby Dick?  No Googling, cheaters.


So now I'm re-cooperating after hitting the gym this evening.  Yes, I dusted off the cobwebs to my gym membership to spend a little time with the treadmill.  And it wasn't too disastrous, if I can say so myself.  I just don't recommend running an hour after indulging in dinner.  I was a bit ambitious.  Thank goodness I spent most of my work out on a severe incline preparing my legs/butt/soul for some hiking.  Because after hitting up REI this weekend, I have a stiff one for hitting up a trailhead for a good sweat session of Evergreens, dirt, majestic views, and a Subway sandwich.


But let's focus on the vacation on the horizon...


Am I ready for England?  Technically no.  But mentally yes.  I'll pack tomorrow.  I spent this afternoon confirming which sister is bringing what so there's no duplicates of unnecessary items (Baby Sister is bringing toothpaste, Middle Sister is bringing...something else, I forget).


I'm bringing my liver.  Because that's important.


And about that booger.  I'd been trying all afternoon to nab it.  Little thing just didn't feel like budging.  But I got it, thanks to the left thumb hook.  He came right out.  Then I rolled it, flicked it, then wiped it on the bottom of my shoe.  Because that's what I do.  After all, Brother's know best.

Thank you heatwave for this mental breakdown.

Last night I was done.  Done, done, done.  Mentally checked out.  I came home and couldn't make adult conversation.  I couldn't formulate sentences.  And the only thing I could think of for dinner was Cheerios.  I can't do this heat anymore.  It's rotting my brain.  Or what's scientifically described as a brain.  And even a cocktail didn't sound appetizing.  I think my brain is oozing out my ears, especially the left one.  Because that's what side I sleep on.

So don't expect to hear from me until Sunday.


I should be doing all the laundry possible this weekend, cleaning the apartment, and packing for Thursday.  But I'm not.  I need to recharge.  And so does Mr. Wookie.  He's had a very long week at school.  So this weekend is all about decompressing.


But sometimes you should just not do what would be best.  For your sanity.  This trip to England will be a welcome trip in more ways than one.  It's taking all my strength not to run away right now.  Where I'd run to?  I don't know.  Anything remotely close is either humid also or Canadian.  Hmmmm, eh?


I just wish life were back to "normal."  And by normal, I have ABSOLUTELY no definition for that.  I just wish we had weather I could run in for starters.  I've been so damn cooped up in either my office or our apartment that I forgot what trees look like.  And yes, this is an unusually warm summer  in SE Virginia, but it's killing me.  I'm one for temperate climates mixed with rain and showers.  Moving to Belize-like climates overnight has tested my sweat glands, my clothing choices, and desire to eat anything that's remotely above freezing.  It's draining on my nerves to where even a beautiful cup of Kona blend coffee doesn't sound appealing in the morning.  THIS SHOULD SOUND APPEALING.  It's freakin' Kona.  Okay, a blend, but still...STFU.


I sit on my butt at work at look at the muggy weather outside.  Or I'm working an event, sweating up a storm, watching the temperature climb from indoors.  Then I race from the elevator to my car and crank up the A/C.  Don't believe me?  Well take one look at my bras (maybe you can get Russian nuclear codes).  They're getting perma-stained from the boob sweat. Dis.gust.ing.


Rainy England has never been morning appealing.  But I swear, if they tout one day remotely close to what it's like over in the New World, I'm going to stab someone.  Maybe a furry-hatted guard.  Maybe then he'll succumb to the touristic taunts.  And maybe shed a tear.

I lack complete and utter inspiration today.

So maybe I'll take a hint and copy my favorite person in this timezone.  Okay, well I can't say that since I now know some awesome bloggers in other states on this coast.  So I'll let you know that she's the Bee's Knees.  Seriously.


I'm tired.  And it's not even 8pm yet.


The storms a-brewin' overhead. The thunder is getting closer as this system bears down on my little neck of the world.  Hopefully this rain will lower the humidity.  I'll take 10% even.  Because as much as us West Coasters bitch about the whole humidity concept, really...just take a vacation back to our neck of the woods.  Really, right now, book a trip to Oregon.  Or Washington.  And experience the shine-free face and the lacking of boob sweat at 5am.  It'll blow your mind.


By this time next week, I NEED to be packed for England.  I can't afford to pack the hour before I leave.  And while I want a super cute Passport/wallet combo-thingy, I haven't found one that blows my skirt up.  So wait I do.  Maybe I'll find one over there.  Maybe another Hong Kong Fendi?? (Please don't try and get this.  Because you won't.  It's meant for a certain reader.  She knows who she is.)


I broke down and bought Cheerios at the store.  We've been out for over a week now and I've been having hot cereals for breakfast.  I just haven't been able to justify them since I'm traveling again so soon.  That and our pantry totally needs eating down.  So I've been trying to be good, but the Cheerio gods won this round.


Today totally felt like a Thursday.  I know it wasn't.  I'm just saying it felt like a Thursday.  Anyone else?


I'm so ready for Christmas that I've already started on my list.  I take my lists very seriously.  I even made a website last year.  Yes, I'm looking into therapy for this deep-end affliction.  But in all honesty, when you want specific items you have to make your list amaze-balls.  That's why mine's complete with lists, price points, shipping/handling info, local purchase power, and ways to eco-friendly wrap it.


My laptop battery just told me I have 40 minutes of life left.  I mean to charge it regularly.  But the charger is connected to the wall.  And I'm on the couch.  And that's just too far.  But as soon as I'm getting up to charge it I'm snagging chocolate from the fridge.  2 birds...


I won't be dragging my laptop to Europe because I'm a huge fan of traveling light.  Omg, how will we read your blog???  Thought that one out already.  The Sheriff is bringing his laptop.  Problem solved.  The only bitch thing is will be using it for 15 minutes every night.  With 2 sisters, there still need to be limits on internet use.  We can't just bo-guard like it's 1997 and AIM is hot shit.  And it's hard to justify my blogging versus family webcam sessions with the Little Man back home.


Mr. Wookie just farted 5 feet from me.  He paused and realized it slipped out.  Silly Wookie.  Not like I care.  I grew up with an older brother.  This means I'm well-versed in snot rockets, farting, loogies, booger picking, booger wiping, wiffle ball, peeing outdoors, and making fires.  The only thing I lack is armpit farting.  Still.


And it's about that time.  There's a piece of chocolate in the fridge calling my name.  Mrs. Wookie, come...hither...enjoy.  Then go outside and watch the storm.  Because you know how much you love when Mr. Wookie calls you a country bumpkin for loving thunderstorms.  He's right.  You are a little redneck.  Just a pale redneck.

Why everyone should be jealous of a Ging.

It was 5:07pm when I left work.  Like a rock star.  Pimpin' my electric blue Asian-mobile.  I had my big-ass shades on.  Something off of Dynasty.  Or Cher's late 70's world tour.  Hot.

Leaning to my right, blowing by traffic, rocking out like any transplanted white girl from redneck Oregon.  It's how we roll there.  Thus I got out.  For the moment.  You can take the girl out of Medford, but you can't take the Medford out of the girl.  But still, white girl, ethnic music, conservative office wear on, who wouldn't be impressed?  I think I saw Carson Daly come at me for an interview.  But my publicist pulled me away.  Okay, no Carson Daly.  Carson Who? those young kids are asking.  And no publicist.  I'm my own publicist, bitches.  Obvis, since I author my life story on this here blog.  But alas, I park my car, walk the 2 blocks home, plop out the contacts, and throw ice in a lowball before splashing it with vodka and tonic.  It's been a long day.  It'll be a long week.  But the motto is "One week, one day."  And how was your day?

One awful 8K, a European vacation countdown, and "Who is Mr. Wookie?"

Let me preface by saying I shouldn't have even been up early on Saturday.  I should have woken up, watched some people run a blisteringly hot 8K, then go back to my sacred air-conditioned apartment for a relaxing weekend in.  And maybe had done some laundry.

And the race was at 7:30am.  I don't even think 4:30am would have helped.

Instead I was one of those idiots, chasing 5 miles under the blistering sun, claiming cold beer is TOTALLY worth it.  Well apparently I'm an irrational woman - oh wait, that's synonymous.  Have you seen the Chronicles of Riddick?

This movie.  Well, if you have then you know the meaning of dying from sun exposure.  It was irradiatingly (totally a word) too hot for any athletic endeavor, even underwater basket weaving.  If you haven't seen this gem of a flick, Netflix it.  You'll enjoy the muscles.  And bad acting.

So Saturday morning I did the standard photo op with my gear.  Notice the lack of sunglasses.  I didn't think my ginormous "Jackie O" glasses were the right touch to the day.

Here I am all smiles.  Hahahahah, silly Gingy.  No idea that this day would be more torture than worth it.  But you live and learn, right?  At least it's not like contracting Herpes.

10 minutes until "bull horn time."  I recognized a few Half Marathon hats and shirts from this spring.

And we did NOT start on time.  And ugh, just look at those freckles.  They don't even match.

And we're almost off! 

Not even 3 miles in and I realized the mistake of this race.  Running in the shadows = not too bad.  Running in direct sunlight = felt like my skin would melt right off my skeleton.  And I'm not proud at all that I had to take walking breaks.  I'm not doing this race again. ;)

I can't believed you can actually see it in this picture.  See that shiny spot.  Right there.  Ya, that's a pile of vomit.  And I almost stepped in it.  Wonderful, eh?

Of course, I had to cut a painful-to-watch video of this sweaty outting.  So enjoy that!

Point #2 of my blog title...

Today was another incredibly painful day to sit through when I have an amazing family vacation on the horizon. I just wanna pack my bags and get on the plane.  Every time I have one little vacation, it just breeds the traveling bug in my system.  But I have a week and some change to wait until that wonderful moment where I spend 2 weeks out of the country.  No, Mr. Wookie won't be joining me.  But he's been on plenty of adventures. It's about time I catch up.  But even then, he'll always be ahead of me as he'll be spending this 4th of July in the Big Apple!

And point #3 of the blog title...

I have a feeling y'all don't know much about Mr. Wookie.  So let's change that.  Be on the lookout for fun facts about the gentle giant that graces this here blog.  And he's not much for pictures, but I'll work my magic and dig up some oldies but goodies from college.  Ooooohh, I'm liking this plan more and more.  I'm excited, folks!

Happy Monday!

Happy Father's Day Poppy!

Thank you Hallmark for another holiday that us kids have to get off the shed and give parents credit for how difficult it is to raise stellar offspring.

Webcam session last year.

Collegiate paparazzi during my trip back to OR.

Grandpa Man and Little Man

He's taught me the finer things in life, the love for microbreweries...

...the love for sushi...

Here he is oogling the aircraft that'll be Mr. Wookie's home in the Navy.

And he makes some mean "B 'n G's."  Biscuits and gravy...

Happy Father's Day Poppy.  Thanks for the awesome trip out West.  Thanks for you and Mama Ging come out for Mr. Wookie's Winging.  And for all the football games.  And the Beaver Gear at the beginning of each season.  And the dinners out.  And the vacations.  And the laughs.  And the Christmas memories.  And the hankies.  Thanks Dad.  Love you.

In case you don't know what time it is...

After a gruelingly swampy run this morning (if only to benefit the local children's hospital), I deserve a little relaxation and hydration.  I've relaxed all day.  Now it's time for the important stuff.

Elizabeth, where's the rum??

"Race" documentation to come.  I say "race," because a.) no medal, b.) no Mommy McD, and c.) no training.  Ya...Ummm, I'm going to have to have you come in on Saaaaturday.  Mmmm, yaaaa.  Sorry, Office Space tangent.

And I apologize if I scare any children with the shiny face and unkempt hair.  I showered and fell asleep on the couch, thus the lovely coif.  And secondly, I haven't gotten ready for the day.  But I'm about to.  Straightener is warming as Mr. Wookie and I are going out for dinner and drinks this evening.  What to wear?  What to wear??

I don't think I'm actually ready for this.

But we pick up packets tonight, so I guess there's no turning back...

I didn't exactly run as much as I should have.  Between illnesses, the heat, and travel plans, thank GOODNESS it's only 5 miles tomorrow.  So by 8:30am, I'll be indulging in a Gatorade.  An adult Gatorade.

I think the frigid bitch has left for the time being. But don't quote me....

Returning to the Real World is always a hefty slap of reality as I grumble and moan my 20-minute commute back to the throes of adulthood.  I've always been working or not not working (usually revolving around a trip to visit Mr. Wookie during our time of long distance-ness), so rarely have I had to return to work after trips.  It's usually during the lull of life that I gallivant all over the country.  Some call it the curse of the Navy.  I call it potential freedom (depending on how often you move, etc.).


Well Tuesday sucked as I was not even recovered from my red eye flight when I had to be in at 7am, then meeting and greeting shining, happy faces at 8am.  And when all I wanted was to come home, curl up in a ball, put a vodka tonic IV in, and fall asleep on the couch, I worked late.  Because it's what you do when you're cranky and not yet time-adjusted for this coast.


Yesterday was improvement.  I only had 4 cups of coffee compared to Tuesday's 5 cups.


I think that's the only highlight.


I'm still dragging in the mornings as I sit here waiting for the coffee to kick in before I jump into the shower.  Because as you know...warm water + sleepy Ging = wanting to crawl back asleep for eternity.  And in eternity, cell phones don't work.  Muhahahaha.


So today is Thursday.  And I'm not ready for that.  At all.  Thursday will be over in a flash.  Friday will also.  Then comes Saturday.  Race day.  What was I thinking??  Oh wait, I wasn't.  I didn't take into consideration the blazingly hot and ball-swamping temperature it would be in June.  Yes, I've officially been here for over a year, but this winter's freezing temperatures completely killed my memory on how warm it gets.

How am I supposed to exert myself when it doesn't even drop below 70 degrees????  I think I'll die.


But if you're in the Norfolk area on Saturday, perhaps even running the CHKD Run/Walk For The Kids 8K race also, look for me.  I'll be the gangly Ging swearing off running between May and October.  I've learned my lesson, Mother Nature.  You won't get me next time.  Damn raising money for the kids...I would have been better off spending it on beer while I was in Oregon.


And this vacation-work curse will continue as that July 1 time frame excitedly creeps closer.  In 2 weeks, I'll board a plane across the Pond for a 2-week stint touring England and Scotland.  So I guess this serves as the official warning that my return to the working world on July 15th will be BEYOND ugly.  Beware.  Even the blog might have claw marks.  You can never tell.  Vacations are a double-edged sword.  Oh, I love the traveling life. I love seeing new places, experiencing their culture, picking up a souvenir along the way, and imbibing in their beverages.  But I love money.  Money, money, money.  It makes the world go 'round.  And it pays the Ging's rent, the Ging's inability to find pants that fit her long-ass inseam so she has to order online, and her bar tab.  Speaking of bar tabs, it's been forever since I've hit up my ol' watering hole.  I may have to pay them a visit.  On Saturday.  After the race.  So they can administer the IV of vodka tonic.

It took about 5 minutes to hate being back on this coast.

I landed in Norfolk.  On time.  Dying to get off the damn plane.  I was semi-narcoleptic the entire flight.  The jump from Portland to Charlotte knocked me on my ass.  And I was dying for a nap.


But instead, I bitched.


I grabbed my suitcase off the carousel.  No. 5 in line.  Almost Chanel.  But not really.


The doors insta-opened as I walked out to where Mr. Wookie would swoop me up.  I hated life at that moment.  Because it was sweltering.  I went from zero to boob sweat in 4.5 seconds.  Who loves humidity??


I grabbed a hug from my personal taxi service and loaded into the car.  I was quite glad to be home.  There's just something about the home we've built on the Other Side of the Country.


Yesterday was my first day back to work.  And you know, I didn't miss it at all.


Maybe vacations to awesome places should be illegal.  Because I'm pretty sure this is how people end of quitting their jobs, buying Yurts in Alaska, and living in a Co-op.  Oh, is this just me?  Still...a good idea, I think.  As long as there's wifi.  Damn the Man, save the Empire!


So now I've indulged in some cream of wheat.  I don't have to be in until 9:30 this morning as I'm covering a coworker's hours.  Shucks.  The coffee is all mine as Mr. Wookie had to be at work at 6:00am.  Double shucks.  And I'm regretting signing up for this little 8K on Saturday morning.  Do you know how warm it's going to be this weekend at 7:30am??  Sweaty. balls.  Triple shucks.


And it's only Wednesday.  When will it be July 1??


The next family vacation is on the horizon and I, in all seriousness, can't wait for it to be then.  I've been bitten by the can't-wait-to-not-go-into-work moment.  Vacations breed little anti-work monsters.  It's easy to bounce back from taking the random Friday off.  Monday is a welcome relief.  But when you jump coasts...it's a different story.  I had 5 cups of coffee yesterday.  And I still fell asleep at 9:30 without issue.  I'm pretty sure traveling to Oregon revolves around a wormhole and Bill Nye's bowties.


I said to myself last night that I would wake up at my normal time and do laundry.  Yet I haven't.  My suitcase is still exploded on the floor.  It's not so much a biohazard as a physical safety threat.  One wrong move at night will land you in the ER with a broken toe vs. a quick trip the bathroom because you shouldn't have had that last glass of orange juice.


But maybe I'll get moving now.  I could use another cup of coffee before I start my morning.  I need to pack a lunch.  Start that laundry that keeps giving me the stink eye from the floor.  And throw myself in the shower.


2 weeks until July 1st.  I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

24 Hours of Oregon Freedom Left

I always hate leaving Oregon.  The state has it all.  And by "it all," I mean everything I need in life.  Beach access, hiking, snowboarding (for Mr. Wookie), fishing, snowshoeing (for the Sheriff and I), the heat (for Mama Ging), Beaver football, great beer, good people, and loads of enviro-friendly standards.

Sunday morning a slow start as I was beyond worn-out from Saturday's graduation.  I meant to be up and running around the 6am mark because Sunday is a running day.  Well, one snooze turned into waking up past 8am.  Apparently I was super tired.  Considering I feel asleep before 10pm.

We grabbed a late breakfast with the new graduates before heading back to Baby Sister's neck of the woods.

There Baby Sister was versed in barbecue usage by the Fire Marshall, Sheriff.

After the parents took over for the Southern portion of Oregon, Baby Sister and I hit up the Mecca of Yuppiefied Hippieness for groceries for Baby Sister and some snacks for my trip back home.

And a new bag just had to come home with us.  Sheriff, I'll throw a $0.99 check in the mail for you.

And before being dropped off at the airport, we needed to consume some standard Oregonian fare.

Baby Sister debating between a veggie burger or a beef burger.

 And now her turn for food porn documentation...

 Not too shabby there, Baby Sister.

It's been many moons since I've imbibed/enjoyed the tasty tots and Rubberhead of McMenamin's.  Baby Sister and I had the best seat in the courtyard at Kennedy School.  Jealous?

I think Baby Sister needs to work on how she cuts her burger in half.

I opted for the turkey sandwich and side salad, with fresh raspberry vinaigrette.  That and half the turkey sandwich will be the perfect mid-Red Eye flight meal.  This Ging is always thinking ahead.

Too bad we still had time to kill before dropping me off at the airport.

So we hit up Target.  The largest Target in Oregon.  Woot.

My red eye flight was miserable.  I didn't sleep.  At all.  And the descent down to Charlotte made me nauseous. Whether I was losing it from the lack of sleep, or extremely hungry, or just dying to be back in my own bed, I started to get shaky, sweaty, and dying to get off the plane.  It sucked.

But I've napped.  Showered.  Eaten.  Twice.  And am now enjoying a Widmer brew.  Because I can.

Sorry for blowing up your Dashboards, followers.  Hope you enjoyed the travels!!  And stay tuned for July 1st departure for England/Scotland.  You won't want to miss it.  Or the beer.