flexin' those militarily single muscles

This past week was surprisingly pleasant considering I knew where Mr. Wookie was, what he was doing, and hoping he'd be home for dinner promptly at 6pm Saturday night.


Is it weird that I actually feel like a legit milblogger when he leaves??


I feel like I have a point in complaining that no one is here to walk the dog/check the mail (our lives are very busy, you can tell).  Otherwise it's me against the millions of Army milbloggers who face year-long deployments. Ladies, you are, by far, amazing women.  I couldn't do that for all the trust funds in the world....I would do ANYTHING for a trust fun...who am I kidding???


Mr. Wookie is no longer the "FNG" (aka the "fantastic" new guy...which the term is being outlaw'd but that's opening a whole different can of worms that I will DEFINITELY blog/bitch about later).  There are 3 new aviators to the squadron to join the mix.  But Mr. Wookie still needs the many qualifications that come with his aircraft.  The Navy isn't like college where you get a degree and you're done.  Nope.  They pour time, sweat, and tax dollars into your training, by golly you're going to learn how to be even more awesome at what you do.  Sometimes this resembles bending over, grabbing your ankles, and saying, "Please sir, may I have some more..."  Or sometimes it just takes having quizzes signed off by Top Gun graduates.


But all has been well at home.  Oh, wait, nope, it hasn't.  There was one minor fun time to be had Friday morning.  That was something I'd like to never relive.  I will gladly hold someone's hair after they've had too much to drink.  But Friday morning made me CRINGE more than Madonna's bicep's popping veins.


Next year will be more of this military singledom.  Lots more.  It rhymes with "shaployment."  Although the air pipeline of the Navy doesn't call it deployment.  They call it "going on cruise."  Maybe it makes being on a floating city more bearable?  Who knows... But I will care package the shit outta that boy.  And I'll email.  And I'll blog.  And I'll stay busy.  And I'll wait patiently for his return.  And I'll look hot for his return.


But in terms of this year, we're still waiting on what May will bring.  Each first of the month divulges his new schedule and whether he'll be home or away.  Then there's always the chance for last-minute changes in schedule that can take him away at a moment's notice.


And obviously if we don't know May, we don't know June, July, or August.  We'll see if we can make a friend's wedding in June in Monterey, California (anyone know if there's a BOQ there?), we'll see if Mr. Wookie is around for his birthday, and we'll see if Mr. Wookie will be my handsome date to Middle Sister's wedding.


Then there's the important question as well: Will Mr. Wookie be there to cheer my sweaty ass on in the half marathons this year?  Because that might be worse than the rest.  I need support - and more than just my $62 sports bras (big tatas cause for big price tags).  I need someone to hold my shat when I take off from the corral.  I need someone to take pictures of me.  And I need someone to pour me a beer post race.  Because otherwise that's drinking and driving.


Just kidding.  We don't condone drinking and driving AT ALL.  In fact, I'll club YOU like a baby seal if I hear you do that.  However, tail gating post-race is HIGHLY acceptable.  In fact, I'll pack extras in case you join me.  And you're more than welcome to join.