Wednesday, March 30

it's only tuesday

The house is quiet.  Mr. Wookie is away defending freedom from...well...I have no idea.  I mean, I know we have some enemies in this country, so he's flexing his Wookious Maximus muscles against oceans, bunk bed sleeping, prison pranks, and rewearing the same flight suit.  Oh, and emailing me...

Tonight's dinner is the ever-classy take-home pizza from Vons/Safeway.  I contemplated the $5 small.  But then I knew I had some miles to log and should consider the $8 large instead.  Carbs and fat: the perfect pre-run meal.  Or at least it totally makes me feel better than I'm scrounging down 3 pieces, with Ranch to dip, and will finally hit that 6:30/mile pace.

Ya, that pace is in my dreams.  But it makes the pizza make me feel better.

I also was tweeting about how the rum supplies were low.  I did fail to quote Johnny Depp with "Where's the rum?" - my bad.  We had a plethora of Coke...but nothing to make my Jeopardy game really step it up. So thanks again to Vons for the Club Price of $WhoCares.

My big girl step last night was to have Sweet Pea not sleep with me.  I maaaaaaay have allowed it the past couple times Mr. Wookie's been away.  Buuuuuut she wasn't keen on knowing that when he's here...her ass is back on her couch.  So fail.  It was a hard lesson learned as the door was closed last night after I tucked her into bed (yes, we're those lame ass people who tuck their dog into bed.  She's super cute, and DESERVES it.  How would you feel being dumped at a shelter, at night, tied to a post!?!?!?!?).

Yes, I always tell her sap story.  Because a.) it makes me look like an effin' superhero, and b.) it makes her look like the saving Grace dog that miraculously makes me a better person.

We have an idea of his return date.  But as always, things can change.  It's nice to have him here and gone 50/50 percent of the time.  It's the slight change in pace of eating alone, eating cereal for dinner, not making the bed, not doing dishes, and being the one who picks up 100% of the dog poop.

Oh, and when you have multiple people gone from the same squadron, you get dinner dates with other Junior Officer wives (aka my running buddy!).  Thank you Sheriff for the Costco lasagna [acquired on our trip to Palm Springs] - it will serve as a delicious dinner for my running buddy, her cute-as-shit offspring, and moi!  Again...carb-loading for those training runs (for sure!). ;)

Monday, March 28

i like where i've been just fine

And because I'm lacking all sorts of amusement today, minus the cocktail in my hand, I've decided to yack about where we've been.  Mostly thanks to the Navy because that's what they're around for....defending freedom and getting my travel fix on.  Okay, maybe more on the defending freedom, but I'm still a little right. :)

As you can see I've traveled the West quite a bit.  Minus Utah (which is on my list) and Colorado (which hosts a large plethora of the breweries that are near and dear to my heart!), the rest is in a category under Thank You Navy, Otherwise I Never Would Have Been There.

Our trek down South involved moving Mr. Wookie to Flight School in Pensacola, Florida.  Then our lovely move from Virginia to California hit up the most direct route through the Midwest.  Both trips = snorefest.

While I don't exactly have a desire to see the Dakotas, Minnesota, or Michigan, I'll always take traveling the country with that boy of mine in order to see how the rest of the world lives.  Just a warning: I don't do well with places that don't recycle, don't drink, and don't love redheads.  Yes, I'm aware of Utah - but I'll just join those exclusive drinking clubs.  Or hit up Annoyed Army Wife's stash.

I know I'm not extensively traveled, but I've made more progress than the rest of my family.  Except both my parents have hit up Alaska. #jealous  That story involves Mama Ging being deputized because she had to be the female escort for a convict.  What can I say?  My family is awesome.

Sunday, March 27

spring break vs. the real world

Being home is boring.  I'd rather be back in Palm Springs with my Griswold-esque family, eating the Sheriff's home cooking, bugging Mama Ging to do my taxes (she's amazing at finding extra money!), and having a backyard for Sweet Pea to frolic and play.

Who would you rather drink with?  Me and my family?  Or alone?

But being home means sleeping in our lovely Queen-sized bed (vs. the King at the rental house...which is massive...and I feel the need for a bullhorn to say "Good Night" to Mr. Wookie), and there's no needing to protect a 1-year-old nephew from a 65-pound, I-just-want-to-lick-the-shit-outta-this-nephew English Bulldog.  Maybe by delaying the Yays and Nays of Spring Break, I'll actually be inspired to write the post.

And really, who wouldn't want to drink with my family?  We put the "fun" in dysfunctional.  And make short busses look intelligent.

Friday, March 25

i'm not dead. proof: Friday Fill-In

Can you believe I get busy?

Yes?  You're being nominated for sainthood next to me, of course.

No?  Blast!  Why wouldn't I get busy.  I have a very stressful life.  I eat.  I sleep.  I sometimes do the dishes.  I sometimes blog. ;)  And I work.  Then I work from home.  Oh, and that dog too.  She doesn't like it when I grab more than 2 cups of coffee.  Little does she know, coffee consumption is linked to her neediness.  Okay, that's a lie.  I'm from Oregon.  We live for coffee.  Coffee with Silk soy creamer.  Remember, we don't like bloating around here.  But that's what week it eff the bloat.

1.) What is your must have gadget? [Flying High With My Flyboy]
Obviously gadget implies technology, and what would life be without a cellphone.  But everyone can't live without their cellphone.  Mainly because it's the only phone we have in the house. #landlinesareso2006

What about our automated turtle feeder?  They get the shaft end of the turtle stick when we leave town but bring the dog along.  Sorry kids.  That's what you get for surviving the dinosaurs.  You get shmuck-like hospitality.  You're welcome.

2.) How does your adulthood compare to what you imagined it would be like when you were a little kid? [L to the Third]
Oh. Dear. Me.

When I was a spry, young 17-year-old, I thought I'd be graduated college at 22 with a BS in Chemistry, a Minor in Forensics, and an upcoming job with the Oregon State Police Crime Lab.  I'd get married at 24, and then pop out babies at 26, 28, and 30 if an "accident" occurred.


Then I realized science degrees suck and don't include a social life.  So I changed that.  I graduated college at 23 (I think), then I traveled because being barefoot and pregnant wasn't appealing.  Then I hit 26 and realized the freedom of not having kids is so amazing.  Now I'm 27 and enjoy the life of dog ownership.  I can leave her for a few hours and not have Child Protective Services called.

That and when you're 17, you don't realize that the guy you may procreate with is involved with a heavily radared aircraft where you have high chances of birthing girls.  And as fun as that sounds, I don't want to have a plethora of estrogen in the house.  So, that little notion is enough to continue debating spinning sperm vs. ordering children off NewEgg.

3.) What is your favorite chocolate recipe? [Our First Deployment]
No bake cookies.  Because it takes 5 minutes to satiate your appetite.

4.) How do you deal with military life when it gets to be too much or too hard? [Combat Boots and Pointe Shoes]
Drink, cry, drink some more, bitch on your blog, buy more vodka, nap, eat Cheerios 3 times a day, maybe paint your nails, join looking for a local drinking club, try a hashing club instead, find people that like to drink and run - the best of both worlds.

5.) What piece of advice would you give a new Military spouse facing their first deployment? [The Albrecht Squad]
Well...we haven't done a deployment yet, just flight school-induced separation (read more here).  But during a year and a half of long distance, I'd like to think I have a slight clue in how to remain entertained when all you want to do is jam up their email with OMG,I'msoboredrightnow.  Hobbies, hobbies, hobbies.  Friends, friends, friends.  Sleep, sleep, sleep.  In no particular order, because anything that helps pass the time is worthwhile.  That and journal your heart out.  Literally.  You'll pass a lot of time writing and/or icing your hand - and the memories from yesteryear you'll read later will be clearly re-felt and understood after you're back together. 

Morning cell phone pic of my Friday Fill-In assistant.  She's never too excited when I sit at my desk and type away.  Mainly because we're not lounging on the couch watching Real Housepets of Orange County.  But she needs to earn her Dick Van Patten's (food) somehow.

Monday, March 21

blogging on vacation is hard to do.

Oh, hi, remember me??  Yes, I'm that blogger.  You know, the one that tells you how awesome it is to go on Spring Break, how a shrieking nephew that causes my ovaries to shrink, and that we've put a serious dent in the vodka.  Der.  And I'm pretty sure Sierra Nevada should send me a royalty check for my promotion.

But I wanted to talk to a few of you.  Mainly, those awesome new readers from the Annoyed Army Wife.  Hi!  How are you?!?  Do you know you've made my day by coming over for some fun and sun with the Navy here in Southern California?  Except we're in the middle of a rain storm across the southern half of the state.  But at least the pool could go up to 104 degrees.

So New Readers, drop a line and let me know more about you (in the comments, of course)!  Gimme your link, and let me gaggle back at you.  Because what's better than new stalkers and new stalkings?  Well, that check from Sierra Nevada for starters.  But that's dreamin' big.  And 'round here, we aim small.

Saturday, March 19

we wish you a splashin' Spring Break

For those in Oregon, this week upcoming is Spring Break.  And like anyone who has family in Oregon, we're planning a vacation around that Spring Break scheduling.  So the Griswolds are together in action.

So for now, we're wishing you a splashin' weekend festivus.  It's currently warm, gorgeous, and on cusp of the Sierra Nevadas.  But I'm currently imbibing in local brew, so you'll have to excuse me if this encounter is a little short.  I have priorities.  And that's making sure Sweet Pea isn't intrigued with the pool.

Friday, March 18

because I'm awesome

Someone took enough Xanax to think I could guest post and not lose readership.  I think she's crazy.  But I love having an opportunity to guest blog.

The Annoyed Army Wife

So hop on over and look out man!

Thursday, March 17

happy st. patty's day (and then some)

Because this weekend may terrorize our traditional long runs on Saturday, my running buddy and I went out for 4 miles today.  Naturally I forgot my camera (because I had some fun ideas planned).  So phone pictures it was.  And green.  I didn't want to be pinched on my run.  I get defensive when finding my pace.

After last week's sunburn, and my purchasing sunscreen at Target, Mother Nature played a joke on us with cloud cover.  Fine, you win.

And thanks to a busy day at work for Mr. Wookie, we won't be partaking in any rough night out on the town.  I love being a redhead.  I love being part (only slim part) Irish.  And I love whisky.  But I love sleep still.  And I'm still recovering from Daylight Savings still. So I'm happy to stay in, watch Jeopardy, and go to sleep at a reasonable hour.

So we wish you a successful night out on the town and no accidents.  And don't end up roadkill - like this snake we found this morning.  Good luck!

Wednesday, March 16

so 'bout those half marathons?

So the momentary panic has fleeted - like last week, both my running buddy and I were like 'OMGWTFWEREWETHINKING?????!?!?!!?!??!?!?!?!?!!?!?'.  I'm back to normal.  Or, at least I will be...eventually...sometime...maybe soon...but let's not get our hopes up.  Aim low and you'll never be disappointed.

Baby Sister kicked ASS with her 5K on Sunday.  To those who commented before, thank you so much for being a non-ice crotch and telling her how hotshit she is.  So I'm going to ask again, tell her she's UBER hotshit.  She ran a 5K.  AND finished.  AND told that finish line to suck it.  Then ate greasy food afterwards and felt AMAZING.  AND she said her finisher shirt is killer.  Fashion is important to us.  Almost as much as how much you can drink on our 21st birthday.

I love caplocks.  Canyoutell???

So now she's working on her next races.  She's thinking to keep on the 5K routine for a bit before stretching out that distance.  She's a normal person who doesn't sign up for a half marathon after never running before.

At least intelligence found someone in the family.

But enough about her.  Ya, ya, we're proud...but this is my blog.  Therefore I get to rattle your ear off with nonsense, alcoholism, cursing, and requests for nap time.

Is running fun?  It can be.

It can also suck a big, fat one.

Like Sunday.  Do NOT have Chinese takeout if you're wanting to a.) be in the mood to hit the sneakers, b.) not suffer from MSG poisoning (so delicious though!), c.) run more than 2 miles on the treadmill because not even Giuliana could keep me interested.

But throw my ass a running buddy?

I'  And maybe throw me some sunscreen as well.  We all know I burn in March. ;)

Running with someone who's also similarly paced to a turtle without a shell (slow, but not that slow) is the best thing since lemon wedge garnishes.  Trust me.  I know my garnishes.

Thursday morning will included a lovely 3 miles, a lovely running buddy, a lovely Navy base, a lovely post-run smoothie, hopefully some lovely non-drip, sweat-proof aerosol sunscreen, and a lovely drive back home back to the Snoop Doggie Dog life.

Am I fast?  No.  Do I do it for fun?  Yes.  And does it hurt that long runs combats my intake for cereal-for-dessert, microbrews, and In 'N Out?

I realize that training runs are just that.  Training.  Obviously I feel the need to have negative splits at 7:12/mile.  Buuuuut.  I have boobs.  I have the gait of a drunk, newborn giraffe.  And I have a life.  OH, and I eat more than protein powder, flax seed, and air.  I'm trying.  It's a great workout.  And I get outta the house.  That's enough for me.

Did this post have a purpose?  Nope.  It's just Wednesday.

Tuesday, March 15

daylight savings can suck it.

The older you get, the harder it is to bounce back from sleep deprivation.  The dog doesn't know what's up, but I've been cranky, I introduced an IV of jet black coffee into my system, and prayed for a nap.  All I got was a jittery, cranky Mrs. Wookie.  No nap.

Monday, March 14

my uneventful Sunday

Things are quiet in the Wookie & Co. household.  Again.  Any given day Mr. Wookie could be away saving the world away from home.  Or he could be working a typical workday at the squadron.  Things are never the same day, which is good in keeping things guessing.  Will I have a dinner buddy?  Or won't I?

I do have this inability to make delicious dinners...when he's not here.  Dinner last night involved roasted leeks, orange segments, and other salad fixings that just tasted stellar.  Tonight was roasted brussel sprouts, wild Alaskan salmon, and lemon rice.

Sorry Mr. Wookie.  Maybe if the Navy kept you here, you'd be fed.

In all honesty, Mr. Wookie won't eat salmon.  So that piece of insight still won't get him fed.  We'd have to choose a different piece of flesh.

Somehow I found Beyonce's tour in Vegas (on tv) - and she's captivating.  Mainly because she makes having a booty worth it.

Today's run was not ideal.  I blame the Chinese takeout I had Friday night with one of the lady Junior Officers.  The MSG lugged my body down to where I didn't run Saturday like supposed - "Oh, I'll run tomorrow."  Well Sunday came, and my desire wasn't there.  So treadmill action it was.  Because I could watch E!  That's the only reason.

When Mr. Wookie's not here, there's no one to back me up in "Sweet Pea, go lay down."  Because when one of us says it, she'll go to the other thinking undermining will occur.  Sorry furball.  We're on the same page here.

I got another produce delivery on Saturday, and this time I decided to mix things up a little bit.  Hello leeks.  And hello fennel.  I roasted part of the fennel yesterday.  And the leeks I'm thinking of soup.

I could desperately use a pedicure.  Not until June 6th though.  That's the day after the O2O Half Marathon.  So.far.away.

And I'm patiently waiting for Baby Sister to blog about her 5K today!

Isn't my Brother beautiful with his new Sleeping Beauty-esque headband??  I'll see him Saturday.  Along with Sister in Law and Nephew.  And my parents.  And sisters.  Watch out, people!  The Griswolds are in action!

Friday, March 11

mother-effin' famous: Fill-In #33

No, I don't mean to gloat.  Yes, I was very excited to have a question chosen for this week's Friday Fill-In.  And yes, I urge all y'all who are attached to that military guy/gal/hermaphrodic to move on over to Wife of a Sailor and!

I really should lay off the sugar.  Sad thing, I haven't had any.  This is what happens when you're training for a half marathon.  You're jazzed after runs.

But let's get to those questions.  Because then the weekend can start.

1.) During military separations (whether short or long) how do you keep yourself positive and motivated?
I hang out with my dog.  I hang out with my running buddy.  I spend too many hours yacking with family and friends on the phone.  And I sleep - like 9 hours a night.

I try not to blog that I'm alone because I'm paranoid.

But I want people to know why I'm mopey if I hit a skid in the road.

Then I spend the last 24 hours in a mad dash to clean the house.  It's the opposite of the Navy.  Wait, then hurry up!

2.) What is your favorite concert you have ever been to?
The Legwarmers (an 80's cover band from Washington, D.C.) on our last Saturday night in Downtown Norfolk.  We were offered tickets, as a farewell present from a college friend.  And I'm glad we didn't turn them down.  For those who know how awesome The Deloreans are, these guys were 100 times better.  TRUST me.  Amazing!

Not to plug them for those in Hampton Roads, but they're next performance is on April 30th at the Norva (Downtown Norfolk).  Tickets are $12.50.  I recommend going early, parking in the residential area down by the Chinese Pagoda (it's free!), and catching dinner Downtown or in MacArthur Mall before enjoying the show.  They're completely worth it.  And I wish I could Space-A it back for an encore performance.

3.) What do you miss the most about your "hometown?"
Umm, this awesome lunch place called "Luigi's." It's a very unhealthy "garbage grinder" sandwich dripping with oil and meat sauce.  And only good once a year otherwise you'll die from heart failure.  That sandwich and family and a few friends.  That's it.

The motto of my hometown.  Get out.  For at least a bit.  Otherwise you'll end up one of those with 3 kids from 8 different baby daddies, working at the same restaurant as all the high school dropouts, and living with your grandparents on welfare.

Go to college.  Then come back educated.  Get a better job.  Live on the good side of town.  And raise educated babies.  And teach them to do the same.

4.) If you could run in any race, which charity would you choose to support?  MY QUESTION!
I would love to run a race for Multiple Sclerosis (my grandma passed because of the disease), but they have that little catch where you have to raise money in order to run.  I'd rather just pay a steep entry fee and have it go to charity.  So they need to learn that until they change, I choose not to run.

In Norfolk, I ran an 8K on behalf of the local children's hospital.

I'll even run a race for the animals.  Especially bulldogs. :)

5.) You find our Willy Wonka is your father, what 3 course meal do you INSIST he create in that stick of gum?
Gourmet green leaf salad with walnuts, Gorgonzola, pears, and balsamic dressing.  Then eggplant Parmesan.  Then Girl Scout's Tagalongs.  Yum.

And I leave you with this hilarious picture.  So, happy spooning this weekend.

Thursday, March 10

Thursday = i got nothing.

Every time I run with my running/wife buddy, I feel like an insta-boast.  She lives on base.  I do not.  She gets to run around gorgeous terrain, bodies of water - it looks like an estuary.  I live in a upper-end neighborhood surrounded by ghetto.  So I stick to my neighborhood.  And I've come to realize, that running where I walk my dog is BORING.  And I'd gladly drive the 10 miles to base, have her escort me on, and run with her than anything.  So much for conserving those fossil fuels when gas is $3.75/gallon.

I got a sunburn today.  It's March.

I only own one tank top in my running wardrobe.  It's time to change that.

I did have a momentary panic when for Tuesday's run, OMG, I've signed up for 3 half marathons - what was I thinking???, I just wasn't feeling running.  That and I had a humUNgo breakfast with Mr. Wookie who didn't have to be in super early like usual.  Big breakfast = questionable stomach.  But I put out 2 miles, what the training guide called for, and called it good.  Well, I called it "meh."

I looked in my bank account today and frowned. Where'd that chunk o' money go?  Oh, ya, race entry fees.  While the most expensive half marathon was $65 smacks, that adds up to missing money.  Good thing races are paid forward and now I just get to train myself to that June 5th, 6:00am start time.

Did I mention I got sunburned today?

Last night I made homemade lasagna. No, I didn't make fresh pasta or sauce.  I had leftover uncooked sausage, a half jar of sauce, and half a box of noodles.  Throw in some elbow grease, cheese, and a baking dish - that's a first for something that usually comes from Costco.  And I just realized, we didn't have garlic bread with it.  Woops.  At least the side salad was tasty.

Mr. Wookie flew home on Sunday commercially after spending the week in South Carolina.  He was there assisting some East Coast squadrons in training and loved every minute of it.  His debate of the week came when he was killing time between flights at Dallas/Ft. Worth airport's USO where they had free Girl Scout cookies by the box.  He just couldn't justify acquiring a few when we had perfectly good boxes at home and there are plenty of soldiers, sailors, and airmen returning from deployments that haven't tasted that deliciousness in a long time.

Mustache March is in full gear.  And it looks ridiculous.

I still need to get placemats for our dining room table.  I bought some at Target a couple months ago, but they just didn't work.  I'd die for some eco-friendly ones, but those usually come in a set of 4...and all I want are 6.  Not 8.  So I keep looking.

In last night's dinner conversation, Mr. Wookie's schedule is already so advanced that our next PCS is "on the horizon."  We just got here!  Can't I revel in the fact that I can get sunburned in March before Noon??  Can't I love that there's zero humidity here versus on the East Coast?  Can't I gloat that Southern California is not getting the monsoon-like weather drenching Mommy McD?  Can't I enjoy friends visiting in the next couple months so we can take them to wine country, LA, and the beach??

Navy Ad of the Week
In the El Centro, California area?  Join the NAF El Centro airshow this weekend!  Check out the birds (including the E-2!) and meet the crew (I know them too)!  You can find everything you need on the air show's Facebook page.

Tuesday, March 8

2 months of mommyhood

It's March 8th y'all!  That's exactly 2 months since we brought home this lug o' bones and skin, shaped like an English bulldog, and an emotional wreck of a dog.  Where am I going?  OH gee, car ride!  This traffic is making me nauseous....going to lie down now!  Oh, we're somewhere!  Let me just pee in your house!  Hehe, yes, I know better - thanks for reminding me.  Now let's WALK!

Get all that?

So when we brought her home she was around the 67-68 pounds region of the scale.  "She could use to lose a few pounds."  And with a Jillian Michaels-style of walks, we've wittled her down to a svelt 65 pounds.  She looks damn good now.  Thanks Biggest Loser dog edition.

And thankfully that first month went back easily so we could put the emphasis of training her.  We were recommended to experience her quirks for one month, then start training.  And we did.

Everyone says she's gorg - which we agree.  Unless she's spending too much time rollin' around in the shmutz on the back deck (girl likes her outdoor lounging).  I consider her a hidden Ging since her brown coat looks a little red to me.  Yes, it may be because I'm partial.  Shoosh.

When she's pooped, you'll find her on her bed in front of the fire.  We'll light the fireplace in the morning when I'm reading blogs and indulging in my coffee.  She knows to give mommy a little "me time" in the morning so I'm not a raging bitch.  Because a bitch of a mommy means a shorter walk.  And that's not good.  We also call this "Asian sleeping" since her eyes...well...look a little Asian.

But then she'll read your energy and know you're mocking her sleeping habits, so she's rouse and ESP back to us in her best Ukranian accent, "I no sleeping Asian."

We discussed recently whether we got the "right dog."  She was the most active of the adoptable bunch by far, and I just wanted to be reassured that Mr. Wookie was loving her as much as I am.  Would we be happy with a dog who only walks 10 minutes a day and doesn't play ball?  Umm, not me.  And not Mr. Wookie.  We love that she plays, "Bitch, back off."  It's her version of Fetch, but she doesn't give back the ball.  She knaws on it until it's obliterated then comes back to us with, "That ball was crap.  Give me another."

She gets zero affection from us.

We've most recently started training (last week) as she's a bit o' a puller on walks.  And she has a slight aggression towards other dogs (we call her Kujo then - and we did know about this issue upon adoption #doesn'tchangethefactshe'ssupercute).  We did try the front-clip harness, but she was like a fish outta water so bad that she chafed her doggy (arm) pits.  So that was returned.  Enter a miraculous trainer who doesn't charge $65/hour or $135/hour (really, people charge that much here) - she costs much less.  Come Friday morning, we've got Sweet Pea fitted with a martingale-style harness and OBEYING.  What. the. heck???  [I bow.]

So far in just the 3 days with the new style o' harness, we have a changed dog.  A dog that doesn't charge ahead like Custard.  Mind you, she still reverts back and you have to remind her.  But this is an amazing change to where we used to be.

Dog aggression training is in the future.  Baby steps, people.

How do you know she's engrossed in her toy?  We call this, "full turkey legs."

And while she used to love shoving her face in your crotch at the dinner table, she now realizes that we're both ravishing fools and refuse to leave any scraps of dinner on our plates.  So no human food for her.  She lays down looking so sad (she's a bulldog, so this is very easy for her) in hopes that she can score leftovers.

She really is a peach.  And we like her.  So it looks like we're keeping her.

it's half marathon time

I dropped some change this weekend.  In the form of race entry fees.  Because I'm bringing sexy half marathon back.  And this is one way to add up those miles in order to compete with Baby Sister's continual weight loss.  [Not sure what I'm talking about? Check out Resolution #3!]  It'd be awesome if you leave some comment love on her 40-LBS of WEIGHT LOSS!  She's doing great!

My race schedule can be seen to the right under "Lost Sanity & Dollars."  Yes, you have to lose your mind to decide that it'll be the Year of Half Marathons.

The half marathon relay is being run with a fellow Junior Officer wife.  It's split with the first leg being 5.5 miles uphill (my share), and 7.5 miles downhill (her share).  She really wanted to cross the finish line, which is great because I wanted to tackle the uphill climb. And I promised her that I'd have a special treat for her when she crosses that finish line.  It rhymes with "Cheer." ;)

Then it's 14 weeks until the Wounded Warrior Half Marathon hosted by Point Mugu Naval Base.  This will cost me a total of $30.  Yikes. ;)

Then it's a quick turn around to the Malibu Half Marathon.  That J.O. Navy wife was totally an enabler in getting me to sign up for this one.  It was probably the promise of celebrity sightings.  Guilty. ;)

In case you didn't know, last half marathon training I gained 6 pounds of muscle.  I was fierce.  Okay, not really, but the legs definitely toned up.  So I'm utilizing those sneakers I got for Christmas and pounding the pavement again for a good cause.  And still rockin' the blue PT shorts from yesteryear.  I can't bear to split with Mr. Wookie's PT shorts of ROTC. #Hoarder

What I'm looking forward to these year?  Not having to be creative to avoid The Ghetto.  Instead, there's running the highways along the beach, running on base, and running around my neighborhood.  It's amazing what happens when you move out of Downtown Norfolk and to sunny California.

My name is shiny lights.

You better believe that there'll be a cooler of "rehydration" for post-race.  Because I enjoy getting drunk off a half beer.

No Mommy McD these races.  She's too busy raising cute babies.  But she wishes she could run with me.  And Mr. Wookie will be playing "proud Sherpa" as he documents my efforts with the hot new camera and ability to cheer me on from the sidelines.  So it's all me.  Unless you, my dear readers, want to join in.  Trust me, I'll make sure there's "beverages" for you too.

Sunday, March 6

the end of Vegan Week

Friday was brutal.  I was over being vegan.  I was tired of staring at the packs of bacon in my fridge.  And I was tired of having to Google, "Is Fat Tire vegan?"  I had standard cereal for breakfast, another peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, hummus and chips for snack, and a vodka tonic for dinner.  Just joking.  Kinda.

But it was a good week.  And no, I didn't lose any weight.

What did I learn from a week of veganism?

A salad cannot do justice as the precursor to a night out on the town.  You will wake up feeling decently awful.  You'll sulk in the shower knowing you need to eat but the hunger just isn't there.

You'll create almost zero trash.  In the perfect world, my veganism would have been followed up with composting of all vegetable trash.  And in that perfect world, my veganism would be fueled by my backyard garden.  Le sigh.

People will give you all the reasons in the world to eat meat and that you're doing something wrong by not eating animals.  Yes, I heard everything from food chain etiquette, to ancestry, to teeth structure opinions.  Yes, I agree with ALL those things.  BUT you're not understanding that raising cows does increase the carbon footprint, that sometimes they're NOT butchered humanely, and that the hormones in them have been linked in various studies to health issues.  The vegans I know are vegan for health and environmental issues.  They may still like meat.  But they choose not to participate with it for their reasons.  If everyone wanted to eat a Double Double, there'd be a longer line through the drive-through.  And that line is long enough already.

It's a great way to feel like you're cleansing the system.  The increase in beans definitely helped move the transit cycle along in a health manner.

Friday night also included the 12:01am official 21st birthday of my sister.

Wanna check out Baby Sister's after-midnight shenanigans?  Click here.

It was tame as she wanted to have Saturday night be the real birthday celebrations.  [The jury is still out if she is alive.]  If only I took that piece of advice Friday night as I was out and about.  I was invited out with some ol' friends - then we ran into Mr. Wookie's squadron mates.  The party joined forces and killed.  I kept updating the group on the countdown until Baby Sister's 21st.  Then at midnight, the band started playing, "Don't Stop Believing."  In my head I was believing I was still 23 and rocking out.  So in my alcohol-fueled brilliance I decided to call her, and leave a voicemail of the music.

Then my phone got passed around.

"Oh, that's your sister?  How old is she?  Where does she live?  Is she single?"

Yes, she's 21.  She lives in Portland, Oregon.  Yes,....but she lives in Portland.  And she's probably smart enough to not fall for a military boy.  One is enough in the family.

The night was great.  Until the tequila shots were ordered.  "Say good night, Mrs. Wookie."

Hangovers never get easier.  Why do I try to question this?  And fun fact: Maintaining your running date for 3-4 miles, while dehydrated/hungover, is not a good idea.  You'll run, your belly will slosh.  You'll get hot, and not sweat.  You'll burp bile, and feel like shit.  You'll add 2:00 minutes per mile to your pace.  And you'll end it at 3 miles.  Although had a felt like a champion, we could have easily done 4-5 miles.

And because I don't know how to tend this blogpost, I'll leave you with this picture of Baby Sister than appeared on Facebook last night.  I need to text her to see if she has a pulse.

Here's to never getting an MIP (Minor in Possession).  Now just make sure you don't get Distributing charges.  And always charge a Finder's Fee.  Make that money.

Friday, March 4

the last child to turn 21

That's right.  At the mere stroke of 12:01am this evening/technically Saturday morning, Baby Sister will be legal. Hot shit, I'm old.

But anyways, I wanted to give some awesome wise words of wisdom since that's the tradition in the family.  When Middle Sister turned 21, the plan was for an all-out bash in Vegas.  She had never been, so my wise words were Vegas blocks are about a mile long.  Stripper heels will not work. FYI.  There may have also been words on Don't take the strip club flyers they hand out, don't lose anyone, don't steal Mike Tyson's tiger, and DON'T GET ARRESTED.

Baby Sister, that last part applies to you too.  While that'd make great blog fodder, your mug shot might be next year's Christmas card.  So watch it...

What I want to do is tell you about my 21st birthday.  Well, what I can remember from it.  It was super long ago.  Annnnnd I may have been completely shnockered.

In a land far, far away, there was Mrs. Wookie (although barely with Mr. Wookie - I think we may have been dating a year-ish).  It was tradition in the town to go to the local Mexican place, have your picture taken, and staple it on the wall.  Each time I'm there I reminisce.  Oh, the fashion (what was I wearing?)  Oh, the weight gain (seriously, excessive drinking packs on the pounds!).  And oh, the hangover (no amount of preparation can get you through a true 21st birthday extravangza).

Parents, you can skip this if you'd like.  You're welcome.

Dinner was uneventful.  I did receive these "anti-hangover" tablets....that didn't do shit.  My advice:  Embrace your hangover.  You EARNED it.  The official shot from the restaurant is (of course) tequila, served from a little man statue, where the tequila is released from....its penis....and you just take the shot.  No one wants to be a bitch.  Just take the shot.

This, my friends, is the Consuela.

Obviously by the time you leave dinner and that beast of a drink kept you company with your chimichanga, you're feeling great.  Superb.  I do remember leaving the restaurant.  Score one for the still-alive brain cells.  Next stop:  We went bowling.  Well, it was slightly inebriated bowling.  But still awesome.  I stripper crawled my way around.  I danced like an Indigo Girl.  I basically forgot what it's like to act proper in public.

We did bar hop, I kinda-vaguely remember all those.  I do remember spilling a drink at my favorite bar though.  Baby Sister, I totally empty'd a near full Scooby Snack in the corner booth by the front door at Clodfelter's.  Now you know that for when you visit.  Don't let history repeat itself.

It was a terrific, debacherous night.  And I have my ride home to thank for that.

This cute, young future Mr. Wookie was my loving ride home.  Even when I hung out the window, slurring at the top of my lungs, "It's my birthday!!!!!!!!!"  How did he stay with me?  Umm, well I'm slightly older, so of course I bought him beer.  That's probably how.

I was put to bed sometime I can't remember.  Then I woke up mid-sleep, with severe intentions to barf.  Holy shit, I'm going to blow!  Well, I didn't.  I just had the spins. Wonderful.  So I proceed to pass out on the bathroom my underwear only...for the world to see.  But somehow I have a brief moment of clarity and know my roommate needs to shower in the morning, I should probably pass out somewhere else (true story).  So I Army-crawl my ass into the hallway.  Still rockin' just my underwear.

Mr. Wookie comes over the next morning to see me still incapacitated in the hallway and at least covers me up with a blanket while I deal with the billion gremlins trying to chisel their way out of my skull.  That was the worst day of my life.  But the best.  I've never had a hangover to beat it.  And I've tried.  It was amazing.  And worth every gulp of painful Gatorade to swallow.  Oh, and sisters, my post-hangover meal was Togo's.  I love them for that and will continue to give them my service.

Parents, you can continue reading now.

Baby Sister, I repeat DON'T GET ARRESTED.  Don't wind up on Burnside at 3am because someone has GOT to pee on the side of a building.  Oh, does Voodoo Donuts offer birthday donuts?  I could use some time in Portland, with Baby Sister, and our livers.  Anyone care to join?

But happiest birthday.  I hope you remember most of it.  Just not all of it.

yes, Day #6 went fine, I'm just funky.

I just realized I'm in a funk.  I didn't know it until now.  But it's been realized by my inner being that I'm internally depressed in some form or another.

There's a reason why Vegan Week is this week.  If you're an avid fan of this here blog, you know there's a Mr. Wookie that graces the pages sometimes.  Well, he'd be the Numero Uno un-fan of Vegan Week, if he were here.  Yes, cat out of the bag.  He's not here.  That's why this Vegan Challenge came at the perfect time.

He's away saving this country one bottle of Bourbon at a time.  Okay, I lie.  Not about the saving the country.  About the Bourbon.  Poor boy hasn't had time for a cocktail he's been so busy.  And where is he?  He's somewhere I've never heard of.  But that's not hard.  Where's Brooklyn?

He's not here to bitch about, "Where's the meat?"

He and I are an odd pair.  But a great pair.  In our relationship, we don't have to maintain daily contact with each other to know we're okay or loved.  We're fine.  We can suffice on random emails whenever the boat has connectivity, or whenever he's not busy "defending freedom."  We've never been the gluedtoeachother couple.

In fact, we kinda cringe at those people who practically make out with their phone and have to say OMGILOVEYOUNOYOUHANGUPFIRST a billion times before AT&T is like, "Enough already!" *click*

But I will say that moving some place that you're still adjusting to while NOT having a solid social circle is where I'm faltering.  We've officially been here 6 months.  I just found a brow girl I trust.  We live in an area of retired Republicans, so not a lot Jonesing except for Early Bird specials at Denny's.  

Yes, I'm included in the Wives Group but we all lived spread out.  And once a month togetherings are not enough to maintain sanity outside the home.

Yes, I work, but I'm still the new one in the office and there haven't been the amazing connections I had with coworkers past (yes, Heather, if you read this, I'm talking about you ladies!)

And yes, we have a gentle giant dog.  But SHE DOESN'T TALK BACK.

I have this blog.  I have the semi-texting with friends (which have their own life/kids/graduate student responsibilities/parole hearings).  And I have Facebook.  Good golly, my life is aflitter with plans.

Just it's not.

I'm now in the real Navy.  The lonely Navy.  The Navy where they move to unimaginable places of palm trees, great weather, the hint of celebrities....and NO FRIENDS FOR YOU.  Get it, like the Soup Nazi?

I never expected this response in my life.  I'm a hard-ass individual.  I'll wear steel-toed boots and pierce your spleen my kicks are so high and mighty.  But finding a new circle of friends that are really going to be worth my time when we just move again in a couple years....I'm having extreme lack of motivation there.

It must be my criteria.  I don't want to be friends with you if you're looking for a meal ticket with a Navy Officer.  I can't be friends with you if you don't understand the Wookie & Co. lifestyle.  No, we're not married.  No, I'm not hanging on a thread of excitement for a blue box o' Tiffany's engagement ring action.  Yes, we're quite comfortable in what we are.  And yes, we do like our cocktails. ;)

Mr. Wookie and I had the discussion about the "geo bachelor."  It's where the guy follows his orders to the new location while the family stays put.  He then BOQ's it (stays in the Bachelor Officer Quarters, aka le hotel on base) for uber cheap and sends the rest of BAH (yo' rent money from the government) to you.  We could have done this.  I could have downsized in Virginia, kept my fabulous job, maintained my friendships, been a helluva lot closer to Mommy McD.  But I still would have been miserable.  We've done the long-distant dance for about a year and a half.  And that's the last time that'll happen (not under deployment circumstances).

It doesn't help that the boy is my best friend.  I have my great lady friends, don't get me wrong.  But I tell the boy everything.  That and he'd smell my gas if i didn't warn him that the beans last night for dinner are kicking in...

Yes, I can handle 6 months away from him.  What I can't stand is 6 months with just myself.  I'm funny, but only to a certain extent.  I'm smart, but only enough for the Jeopardy Teen Tournament.  But I'm also shy in meeting new people, I hate driving (so that takes out leaving the 1/2-mile radius of my place), and I refuse to be one of those unstable types that shops because they're bored.  My money has a better idea.  How about it stays put in my bank account.

Am I looking for answers to how to make this easier?  Yes.  Tell me your secrets for moving to a new location, where he's going out and in, and how you stay sane.  Because this is new soil and I'm not liking how it's suddenly dawned on me that I'm digging deep into a trench.