Kid Leashes vs. Procreation Licenses

This morning I had an appointment for a recommended tailor in town for my Wedding Guest dress. I'm making my way to office, at a crosswalk waiting to go when I see this...

[source]

Okay, so it wasn't exactly Matilda making a break from her mom, instead it was a toddler [not being watched] who just darted in between the parked cars headed for the street. I, being of sound mind and sympathetic body, sprint over to the little girl to put a halt on her course. Another random gentleman came from another direction to flank her.

"Hey little one, not this way."

Her parents come screeching up...grab her, and walk away.

Hi, assclowns, what about me? I'd much easier let your stupid offspring become a speed bump if I didn't have a heart. But instead, I didn't feel like seeing brain matter on my conscience so I jumped over. You probably have no idea how 'for' I am of child leashes - maybe you should read up on them. Kids are no smarter than dogs, and dogs are on leashes. Yes, some dogs are brilliant. But if you want your genes to carry on, keep your kids alive. That's all.

I could also launch into promoting procreation licenses because some people just shouldn't have kids. Usually I experience extreme confrontation in this idea, but radical ideas got us past segregation. I'm all for screening genetics. To quote Harvey Danger, "Only stupid people are breeding." We all know the stereotypical poverty-level woman who has more kids because the welfare check gets bigger. What's wrong with a little mandated sterilization?

All I wanted was a "Thank you." That's all. Instead I got silence. I'd say next time I won't bother, but I can't do that. You never know when someone is a "sleeper Ging." You know, they're carrying the genes. I have priorities, you know. Gingers unite!

Yes, I got this off my mind. I was a little flabbergasted at the parents, that's all. Nothing against good parents...but you know it takes one bad egg to spoil the dozen. I understand kids run, and a good parent chases them when they don't come back as called, will give a good ass kicking later, and says 'thank you' to caring people who help. But these people were something else. Rant over.

Friday Fill-In walks into a bar...spots Mrs. Wookie. Big shocker.

(In my theme of speaking like celebrities, how 'bout some Paula Deen action) Hey ya'll! Want to know how to raise your cholesterol, the circumference of your waist, and your weight? Butta' y'all!

I know, rude,...but I'm not caring today. Again, the coffee didn't include anti-bitch powder. Sorry.

Anyways, let's get on to the esteemed Friday Fill-In for the military wives, concubines, girlfriends, Stage 5 clingers, and long-time Awesome Mrs. Wookies of the world. Thanks Wife of a Sailor for your hosting skills - I know my social circle wouldn't have evolved in the explosion it has without you.

Do you think civilians, in general, understand the meaning of Memorial Day?

Haha - I think the better question would be, "Do you, Mrs. Wookie, understand that Memorial Day is more than a 3-day weekend?" Ermm...it is? ;)

I get the notion of the day. But I don't hold it to a high regard. My love is better spent towards the 4th of July - where I celebrate all aspects to our awesome country.

If you ever have the chance to do the 4th of July in Washington, D.C., effin' do it! Recap my visit here.

What are your plans for the Memorial Day Weekend?

Mr. Wookie was thinking of hitting the trails this weekend for some hiking (Oregonian love!). I have a brow appointment Saturday morning, then a tailoring appointment after that for my Wedding Guest Dress (I say "wedding dress" and people JUMP to  conclusions...no, people).

What skill/talent do you wish you had?

I wish I could legit sing. Instead I sound like a cross between drunk Lindsay Lohan (I apparently love to reference her) and Peter Brady mid-voice change. It's not pretty. But that's why the shower is my perfect studio. St. Ive's peach scrub doesn't judge.

Which came first: the chicken or the egg?

The egg. I eat breakfast to start the day. Breakfast includes eggs. Debate solved.

What is the best thing about your post (base)? The worst?

The best: Running Buddy! (Our base is super tiny and our squadron is super small - it's like the complete opposite of NAS Norfolk).

The worst: Oh, just a crashed aircraft mangled on the runway.

I never did tell you that Mr. Wookie was actually flying at the time it went down, scheduled to land a half hour later. Yeaaaa....that didn't happen - both runways were closed immediately. Instead they got diverted, flew over the crash, saw the smoke, and SWORE the crew were dead it looked that bad. Mr. Wookie landed safely elsewhere and spent the night away from Miss Sweet Pea and I. He's now the proud owner of a new pair of jeans and shirt (they had to purchase new clothes to go out since flight suits aren't public attire - thank you Diverted Locale's NEX for your hospitality!).

And I leave you with this...

My Brother just found out about the phenomenon known as 'planking.' Yes, yes, people die from doing it...people die in car crashes too...people die from drinking...people die from childbirth...people die from stupidity (more should though). Umm...Brother, this is awesome. I want to see more. How about I offer a weekly meme dedicated to you? Bonus points if you can get Little Man to plank too!

Mrs. Wookie, Fashion Icon

Oh dear readers, an epiphany has happened and I feel genius for it.

Thanks to The Frisky for their announcement for what to wear to a cocktail wedding. Middle Sister's wedding = "garden party" cocktail affair. And what color is my dress? Grey. I feel like Joan Rivers would love me right now. Then tell me my arms resemble giraffe legs and I could use some fake tanner.

Really Ann Taylor Loft?

The other weekend when Middle Sister was here, I thought it was perfect timing to have her confirm my ideas in apparel for her upcoming nuptials. Translation: Yo' beezy, does this dress make me look slammin' in pictures? Because there's nothing worse than having someone in a Cosby sweater terrorizing family pictures.

Being a tall-ass female with a long-ass torso, long-ass Orangutan arms, and legs for mother-effin' days, it can be hard to shop in the conventional sense (like real stores). I have to worry about if the "waist" hits me even near the waist (usually it's on my rib cage, and I don't like to Tim Gunn it - you know, just "make it work"). Then there's, Is my booty hanging out since I'm missing extra fabric in length? It's fun, oh so fun.

(But if I can announce like Oprah) Bring in Ann Taylor LOOOOOOOOOFT! Along with Gap, JCrew, Banana Republic, Old Navy, and others who offer a small selection of appropriately fabric'd designs meant for those who resemble more "missing link" than man.

Oh, what's this Ann Taylor Loft...in my inbox...a further DISCOUNT on the effin' dress I just bought? [Mrs. Wookie angry, turn green, rip shirt...oh wait, nope, now naked... umm... what other superhero can I be where I don't have to be topless?]


I was a little butt-hurt, I'll be honest. But then I realized that they didn't have the Size 8 in grey (which was the resounding vote thanks to Mommy McD, Middle Sister, and Baby Sister). But really...I got it for 30% off the $69.99 price tag, which is a good deal for a tall dress.. AND I will be able to wear it again. AND now they don't have my size. So really, I'd just like to sulk that I got screwed out of 20% off.


My coffee didn't include anti-bitch powder this morning. So sorry.


Oh what's that? You want to see the awful phone pictures that I texted my American Idol-wannabe judges? Oh okay, if you must.


But first, you must decree to yourself, "Thou shalt judge a Ging."

The skirt of the dress fits perfectly. The waist is...gasp...not empire on me! So the only thing left is to alter the top of the dress (I'm pinching it in with the missing hand). So thanks to some recommendations for a tailor in the area, I have an appointment to make this puppy fit like a glove. And do you LOVE the waspy fabric on top!? I assume once it's dry cleaned they'll be flouncy, and lovely, and gorgeous...and...fabulous...

But I still like the romantical nature of the blush colored, only people thought I looked nekkid. And that's the last thing you need out of the Sister of the Bride. OMG, did you see her, what is she wearing? She's like the Princess Beatrice of Oregon!


Yes, I need to work on my runner's tan (it's like a farmer's tan...but I don't farm). Yes, the bed is undone and there's laundry everywhere! Would you rather try on new clothes or wait until after you've cleaned? If you say cleaned, you need therapy! So Mama Ging, this is my dress for August. You like? Hope so! Because the bride's happy, and that's all I can ask for.


End note: We totally think the model is the T-Mobile 4G girl. Do you?

I LOVE California (but still not their sales tax)

Yesterday was epic. Ep-ic. Amaze-balls. I can't remember the last time I had that much fun.


First there was the 11.5 miles run that we had to get out of our way before the afternoon begun. Yes, I did say 12 miles yesterday. But because of the plane crash, parts of base weren't accessible so our "loop" around the base parameter ceased to exist. So instead we weaved around until we couldn't weave so more. Plus my legs were DONE. Last Half I trained to 10. This time I beasted out a bit more. So ya...I'm a "half ass." Suck it.


Our squadron here is pretty divided. The "JOPA" is strong here. JOPA = Junior Officer Protection Agency. Some call it an urban legend. It's real here. The O-3s and below don't really associate with the O-4s and above when it comes to after-work camaraderie. Well...the beloved "Knives Group" (they really do think that name is hilarious) threw an all-squadron barbecue to get the JOPA to mingle as a collective whole.


It was AMAZING. The theme was 'redneck' so I saw more chest hair, cut-off denim, cigarette packs, and trailer trash style than I've ever seen. The ladies went all out. Plus the food was TO DIE FOR. The true Southern ladies and husbands created an all-out feast of a shrimp boil. I may have a different tune for the South after all. Minus the humidity. Can't forget that.


You had the single guys playing with all the kids on the trampoline. Mr. Wookie was beat and bruised like a broken horse because the kids loved that he's a big guy and would tolerate their antics. Running Buddy's kids especially treated him extra 'horse-like'. I know other squadrons are very tight-knit, so I just assumed Mr. Wookie's squadron mates were a bit different. But now I've seen the light at the end of the all-squadron function tunnel and I LOVE it. I can't wait for our next one. 


And today, in our post-recovery of run and redneck, Running Buddy and I ventured to the NEX and Commissary (thanks sponsor!). Oh my goodness...Mr. Wookie has never been a fan of shopping on bases because it's usually streaming with a billion kids, long lines, not-that-good-of-deals, and run by the Filipino mafia. I think my tune has changed for the Commissary thanks to this morning. I picked up bacon, real maple syrup, and face wash for half the price at Vons. We literally have a 30-yard walk to Vons, so there's never driving for our bi-monthly grocery run - it's leg power and polypropylene bags.


Umm...ya, Mr. Wookie didn't like hearing that news today that I was wanting to venture the 2.5 miles to the Seabee base (it's closer to us than Mr. Wookie's base) for our next shopping endeavor. Plus they have Kona coffee for $5 ass-kicking dollars. I'm pretty sure Mr. Wookie can protect freedom on cheaply priced coffee.


For the longest time, we've been so unattached to the military. We don't wear Navy swag (that probably will never change - and I can't stand to see the shlumpy-looking wives in their husband's PT sweats running errands. Get your ass dressed!). We've never really associated with the squadron networks in our area, whether Florida, Virginia, or here until now. But I guess it's time - and I'm glad I love these people. Next year should be fun as the boys (and a few ladies) spend their time on a floating city protecting freedom as we stick together on land.


August 26th - now: How long it's taken to LOVE being here. Glad my tune has changed.

milspouse friday fill-in: Forty-One(o!)

Eeeekkk...I don't know why I'm excited...but I am! Maybe because there's 12 miles on the schedule for tomorrow (gag) and I'm kinda looking forward to it! The race is creeping its way up! Anyways...let's not waste your time with my silly psycho-babble...let's get on with the show!

1.) What is one of the things you always do special when your husband awesome long-time Wookie returns from a deployment training exercise?


His laundry? Make him a steak dinner? Pour him a hefty adult beverage? Yes.


Thanks to flight school, we've yet to encounter a deployment. While all the Surface Warfare Officers (aka SWOs or "SWO-arriors" like warriors) graduate from college and get kicked off to Deployment Land, the air community likes to coddle you like a newborn baby in the confines of flight school until the very last possible moment you can have before facing deployment. I love it.


2.) What do you do to help your spouse and/or yourself re-adjust after a deployment or long separation?


Now I'm scratching my head! We haven't been "long distant" since early 2009, so that's a ways back to think. And we were long distant for so long that we never had anything different. So far "long separations" are weeks or a couple months at a time, so we're lucky.


But to answer the question, I take off the flannel sheets and put on real ones.  Otherwise the Incredible Wookie will turn green, rip his clothing until it's fixed.


3.) Are you a crazy coupon clipper?


No. N-o. Nope. Nada. Never.


I love me some Extreme Couponing.  Love it.  But them people be crazy with all their "stock piles" of supplies...what are you waiting for, the zombie apocalypse??


Our shopping habits have changed drastically since we've moved to California and started receiving a weekly Produce Delivery service (like a CSA, but better!) - we rarely go to the store anymore.  What used to be a weekly adventure for us has now reduced to a couple times a month for when we need our pantry staples re-supplied.


I am guilty of using coupons for stuff that we regularly purchase: soy milk, cheese, meats, pasta, bacon (that's separate than meat and is highly exalted in our house), protein bars, eggs, coffee, baking ingredients, etc.


We pass on coupons for things like box meals, juice, cookies, chips, soda, candy bars, billions of deodorants, etc.  It's just stuff we don't eat or buy, so we're okay to let those go in the recycling container.


I think you either love the show or hate it.  I agree with those that donate their plunders.  I think it's great work for your natural talent; I know the less fortunate and the military care packages are a great deed to many.  Then there are those that buy candy bars (because they have a coupon) while pumping their insulin...they befuddle me.


4.) What's your most treasured memory of you and your spouse Wookie?


There was a time...when I had the living daylights scared out of me.  It was amazing! See, Mr. Wookie lives to scare the shit outta me whenever possible.  It's a great laugh between us because he's had some DOOZIES.


Anyways...back during Senior year of college, I'm on the phone with Mama Ging...walking upstairs in Mr. Wookie's townhome...when he jumps from behind the wall, BOOOOO! and sends me screaming, tumbling down the stairs.  It was a GREAT scare.  I'm crying my eyes out while laughing after literally falling down the stairs.  It was his best work ever.  And we high-five because it was that good.


I was still on the phone with Mama Ging.  She thought I got stabbed I screamed so loud.  She was about to call 911.  Silly Mama Ging...doesn't she know we're retarded like that...?  Some guys write love notes...Mr. Wookie tries to end my life...


5.) If you could live anywhere overseas, what would you pick and why?


I'm assuming this answer is non-military related...since it never specified...


One word: SCOT-LAND.


I effin' loved it there. a.) SO MANY REDHEADS! b.) THE BEER! c.) THE EFFIN' WEATHER! d.) IT'S SCOTLAND!  Dear Navy, we'd love an E-2 base there.  Pretty, pretty please...!

bird down, we repeat, bird down

[source]

I received my first "call tree" tonight as a plane went down on our base (I was out running around with Miss Sweet Pea sans phone, so I got 2 voicemails blowing up my phone this evening) and the ladies were alerting me that "Hey, there was a crash on the runway, it wasn't a Hawkeye, our guys are fine."


More coverage with ABC-Local and the LA Times show the beautiful surroundings of our beloved base with the ugly tanker broken amidst.


And I'm not one to pinpoint exactly where we are in the world, but when it's your literal backyard/stomping ground/running path/air station you feel differently.


I will say, the winds were a bitch this afternoon and evening. I'd bet we lived in Chicago if it weren't for the raging high gas prices, beach-front property, and homeless people with signs that say "Residentially Challenged."


I hope to get more information tomorrow as the information passes through it's appropriate channels, but let's wish a speedy recovery to the crew, the runway, and everyone's nerves!


So that's how things are in smoky Southern California. How's life on your end?

who wants to be a Bridesmaid?

Thanks to today being days off for both Mr. Wookie and I, we treated ourselves to a date night last night.

This beauty was our choice. Mr. Wookie thought it couldn't be too "chick flick-y" and thankfully it wasn't. It was a riot. I do apologize to those in the audience who had to listen to my cackling. I'm sorry. I thought it to be exceptionally funny in parts. Crude pooping humor is a massive guilty pleasure of mine. But it reaffirmed that I never want to be in a bridal party...really...ever. I have been in 2 weddings in my life. BOTH ended in divorce. This pretty much guarantees I'll never be asked to a bridesmaid...which is a secret piece of happiness for me.


Mrs. Wookie's needs for a great time at a wedding:


a.) I will only go with Mr. Wookie. I attended a wedding sans Mr. Wookie (he was in flight school and couldn't get away), for some friends from college, and it was torturous being alone. I will never do it again.


b.) Please serve alcohol. You want people to dance? They need some sauce in their system. However, just be sure to have toasts (if you have any) before the sauce gets thick in their system.


c.) Please serve delicious food. I don't care if you choose heavy appetizers because they're cheaper, or a full-service meal. Make it tasty! You're essentially hosting a dinner party if you're choosing to have a food-based reception. Don't suck at it and leave me with crackers.


That's pretty much it. Not too high of demands. I mean, I could go into detail about how I love wedding websites, coordinators, and non-strapless dresses...but they're not as important.

not even close to Dean Karnazes

For my Brother who's asking, "Who?"  That guy who just ran across country to raise awareness for childhood obesity...and to probably sell some books along the way.  He's amazeballs.   Although...he could use a burger or 2.  Anyways...

Because we ran the wicked awesome relay, there was only one paparazzi on Mrs. Wookie...which thankfully was on the solo downhill portion of our leg so I picked up mad speed before finishing 3/4 of a mile later with a high five and a "Don't die!" to Running Buddy.  Yes, my mouth is gapping open.  Maybe I was hoping he was smuggling mini Stoli bottles to runners.  And then someone else had lemons and tonic at the transition point.  Either way...here I am in all my sweaty glory.


Some shout-outs to my people...


Mom, thanks for the sneakers.  They now have 101 miles on them (yay!), so in a few hundred more they'll be reduced to dog-walking sneakers.  Nice work...all that money for some sweat and then dog turds.  Thank you though!


SPIbelt, you rock for hookin' up this lady with the waterproof belt with military discount at the expo.  It was my favorite purchase yet.  It held my camera and my phone, which was great when it came to entertaining me with Salt 'n Pepa's "Push It."


Tangent over.


We're less than a month until the O2O Half Marathon...which I'm a little peeved about today.  Groupon decided to have registration at half price...today!  Not WEEKS ago when we registered!  What the heck?  But on the bright side, I've been training for this race.  I hope any asshole that buys the half-priced entry fee pulls a quad.  I'm not bitter...


This morning I ROCKED 9 miles out without a flinch.  Okay, there was flinching.  But it was because I was still effin' tired from only getting 7 hours of sleep (I'm a delicate sleep-needer).  So instead of hitting the snooze, I got my ass outta bed.  Mr. Wookie went to PRT (physical readiness test) the squadron (yup, that's one of his jobs), while I ran to the beach.  The beach that's not a mile from our house.  The beach that's 4.5 miles from our house.  Thank goodness beach views are worth it.


Then I came home and crashed on the couch...still in my robe...and my hair in a turbin (it's becoming a trend).  There's something about getting clean and warm in the shower...and then going narcoleptic.


Oh, I did get my first blister of the season.  An itty bitty one on my pinky toe.  So I took nail clippers and drained that mama-jama.


Some days I love me some running.  The boobs stay where they should.  The stride stays in check.  And the music inspires me to race day.  Then other days (even when I'm not hungover) where I don't feel like strapping down my nuclear warhead-esque boobs, where I flail more than newborn emu.


Now it's about time I tend to my house.  I have guests coming tonight.  Or, I guess I should say...we have guests coming tonight.  Who?  Oh, just Middle Sister and Fiance!  They're making the drive over from the Valley (do I sound Californian yet?!?)!

hitting publish without a proper title

Thanks to Blogger being a butt-puppet so I didn't get my Milspouse up until after my 9 miles this morning. Due to some friendly guests tonight, I felt the need to shift my long run from tomorrow morning to this morning.  Because nothing says "Bad Host" like...'Okay guys, cereals in the cupboard, see you when I get back!'


Anyways...so let's get back to the 40th Friday Fill-In thanks to Wife of a Sailor!  Because without her, I'd just tell you how attractive it is when Sweet Pea licks my legs post-run, and how it tickles when she gets to the back of my knees.  But that's not appetizing.

1.)    Which was the best day of your life – Wedding day or Homecoming day?

How ‘bout neither, since those 2 days aren’t a familiar presence ‘round Team Wookie. I can’t really say I’ve had a “best day” yet.  There are some pretty awesome ones for sure. But I think it’s a shame to sell out “best day” so early in life. Maybe when I win the lottery…or secure that trust fund from an overseas account and the Navy has to discharge Mr. Wookie for lack-of-interest-in-working-for-the-Man pay.

2.)    Were you a part of the joining the military question or did you sign up for the relationship when your man was already in the military?

Ummm…again…neither.  Mr. Wookie was a NROTC guy at Oregon State, so it’s kinda like being signed up for the military…and kinda not. Either way, he succeeded at getting a scholarship for his Junior and Senior years, then commissioning in June of 2007. Then I knew it was one like Donkey Kong.  But I’m awesome, so I welcomed the fun. Silly girl.

3.)    What is your favorite Disney move and why?

When I think Disney, I think cartoons.  When I think of his cartoons, I think of some weak-ass female needing to be rescued…it’s crap (i.e. princesses).

Plus, I kinda think he’s a pedophile.  He made theme parks just for kids.  It’s a slight step off of Michael Jackson.  Like what MJ would have looked like during the fake this-family-is-dressed-up-in-pretty-bow 1950’s.

I also can’t stand people who wear Disney, you know…the grandma with the giant Pooh on her sweatshirt back that she bought at Walmart.  I don’t know where the hate for the man came from, but it skeezes me out to see adults in ANYTHING Disney.  Unless you’re at the actual theme park…but then I still give the stink eye.

[Apparently I took a lot of Haterade this morning.  But Disney does set me off.]

If I had to choose one, it’d be Little Mermaid.  Only because she’s a redhead.

4.)    What is your family activity to do on the weekends?

Umm…sleep in, make breakfast, stay home (we don’t go out on the weekends, the stores are too crowded, the traffic is too much, and my eyes get tired from eye-rollin’ my way past people who lack common sense, showers, and the ability to speak English).

We’ll watch movies, maybe lay out in the sun,, and have an adult beverage.

And Sundays are laundry days. Snore.

5.)    Where do you secretly wish you could be stationed with you/your SO’s line of work (realistically speaking, not everyone can be stationed on NAS Fiji)?

I would die for Washington State.  Die like Rachel Zoe.  Oregon has long not had a military presence, so if only Washington would accept an inaugural squadron.  Flights to my family would be under the 2-hour mark.  Beaver games would be a weekly tradition.  And the prospect of family visiting would be much higher than say…California or Virginia.

Apparently writing answering these fabulous 5 questions before coffee reveals my bitchy tendencies.  Oh well, you knew that, right?  I mean...I'm a redhead and all.

Santa Ynez Half relay

Guess who slept like crap last night?  And guess who woke up at 1:30am and stared at the ceiling?  But it was all worth it as I'm laying here, having eaten half my fridge, popped two victory beers, and napped with Miss Sweet Pea.

Unfortunately the clouds never broke and it remained cold the whole day.  Minus the 4.5 miles of running where I built enough heat to ditch the raspberry shirt that was in my Goodwill pile and thusly made it's way to the side of the road when I stripped around Mile 1.5.  I felt comfortable, not too hot, not too cold.

This race was our most expensive at $70 (which was discounted as a relay member).  The race was capped at 3,000 runners, so that meant no corrals, pace groups, or staggered starts.  And we trusted the shuttle system to move us from Staging to Start.  Thank goodness no hitches this morning!

I was excited.  I wanted to see how well training for the June half marathon has paid out, especially since where we live there are zero hills.  You want hills?  They're called Dreadmills.  What I run?  12-feet-above-sea-level-beautiful-Southern-California weather.

How are gas prices where you live?

Without corrals, it was a Charlie Foxtrot walking, weaving, and trying to find my happy pace.  Next time, corrals, people!  Dodging casual walkers...not my idea of a great start.

My first mile was slow thanks to the weaving of race traffic, but after a mile it started to thin out.  Then I started my game plan.  Start out at 'long run' pace, and keep chipping :20 seconds off my pace each mile.  My goal for the Ventura half is to sub-2:30 - I didn't hit it at the Yuengling Half (I missed it by 3 minutes!), so let's try it again!

My overall pace was an 11:18/mile.  Not bad.  I wasn't exactly 'racing' for a 10k finish time.  That, and hello...elevation gain!  I was testing the waters for June's race.  My issue: I'm not fast.  I don't train fast, and I need to.  I need to kill myself on training runs, which is something I'm working on.  I just worry about burning out too quickly (guilty of that in last year's race).  But it was fun today.

And not to be particular, but thanks to the ol' Garmin...my leg was 5.84, not 5.5 miles.  Chumps.

So we tagged off Running Buddy and she did remarkable despite fighting a chest cold and not running for 2 weeks.  Our unofficial time was 2:30, but that doesn't take into consideration the fact we started out in the back of the pack and weren't on 'gun time.'  I'm excited to see that final time though!  And naturally the IT department has the site down until tomorrow when results should be posted.  Eeeek....

Post-leg we hopped the bus back to the finish line...where we froze.  We were sweaty and losing heat, and I hate "smuggling raisins."  Enter my "bag lady" tendencies.  I packed each type of clothing for just the weather choices.  So in the parking lot of the race at the car, I dropped trow and changed sweaty clothes.  Modest?  Nope.  Minus being pale, I'm content with my body.  Hello?  I run.  It helps fight the age-based ass droop!

Running Buddy finished strong with a great kick...along with her great cough!  And no judging!  I'm not wearing makeup...3:30am was a rough wake-up time!

The successful teams!

Now tell me!  Don't I look warm?  Would you believe me if I told you I was still cold despite the layers?!  I wished the clouds would have broke.  But alas...I don't control the weather.

So we were done, we trekked the 80 miles back home where I showered...then...passed out on the bed, still in my robe, my hair still in a turbin, and Sweet Pea curled up next to me.  I didn't think I was that tired.  Apparently I was wrong!

Would I run this again?  Ermm...it was 80 miles away.  And it cost us $70 just for the relay.  AND the DestinationRaces.com team did nickel and dime you for every little thing.  Want to pick up your packet race-day morning? And extra $20.  I trekked up to the expo like a good running citizen.  Want to poop in a Honey Bucket?  Okay, that one was free...trust me. ;)

Most likely I'll write this one off as a great experience, but the wallet doesn't like it so much.  I prefer to stay around my neighborhood for races.  It allows me to sleep more, for starters.  Thankfully the rest of our schedule only cost $60-65 a race, and are within 10 miles.  This is good.

However, we're not counting out the Santa Ynez wine country.  The Wookies will be back. Trust our livers on that notion.  I promise.

a running we will go, a running we will go

I can only apologize so much for being too busy that I didn't even think about blogging.  But I guess that's always a good thing when life's continuing, I'm making money, and kissing a Mr. Wookie goodnight.

But let's forget about a silent blog, and let's talk about tomorrow.

My phone is currently being bombarded with mp3's as Mr. Wookie is playing DJ Jazzy Caveman for tomorrow.  Oh, what's tomorrow?

Oh, just a little relay.  That's right.  Running Buddy and I were wanting to test the waters before our half marathon in June, plus the relay was cheaper than the full 13.1 (it was still the most expensive one this year).  So that's where we'll be tomorrow.  Wish us luck.

Mr. Wookie had the day off (although he gets to work the whole weekend) so he accompanied me up to the expo so I could pick up my packet.  And he's glad he did.  It's gorgeous up here.  I promise, I have pictures...but they're on my phone and his phone...so you'll have to wait for those until tomorrow.  And thanks to a certain Santa Ynez local for her brilliance and insight into landing us a great place for lunch.


So the details on this relay is that I'll be starting in Santa Ynez and running 5.5 miles uphill to the transition point in Los Olivos(?) before Running Buddy finishes the course with 7.6 miles downhill.  AND we decided to drive the course just so I'd know what I was expecting.  I semi-regret this.  Do you really want to drive up the hills you're going to have to conquer?  Yeah....no.

This place was beautiful.  Not my picture, der.

Yes, I'm heading to bed.  Yes, I'll have my camera.  Thank you for the luck!

deer in soapbox headlights

I like to think I'm a good dog owner.  I rarely want to sell her on Craigslist when she's grinding my gears.  I clean up after her vomit even at 2am.  I play ball with her relentlessly.  We lounge in the sun together.  I'm a sucker for giving belly rubs.  And she gets fed on time.


Yes, I leave her to go on runs.  But she welcomes me back with a waggin' tongue for my sweaty, stinky legs.  And I only have to shower from the knees up.  We're cohesive as a unit, minus the giant stink eye she gives when it's bath time.  Or as we call it, the Battan Bath Match.


But I'm out this afternoon, doing a walk when I get asked...


Person: "Yo, is that a female?"
Me: "Yes."
Person: "That's an English bulldog, right?"
Me: "Yes, she's our rescue."
Person: "You know you can make a lotta money breedin' those."

I don't exactly take pictures of her hanging utters, but you can see that the skin's a little loose.  And Beverly Hills Veterinary Cosmetics is a little pricey even with the shitty economy.  So no boob tuck for her.  Sorry Sweet Pea.  But this guy wasn't the smartest when he didn't get that when I mention 'rescue' that she came sterilized.

Me: "Yes, I know."
Person: "Like $1,200 a dog."
Me: "I know."
Person: "So why don't you breed her?"


[Deer in headlights.]


I had nothing.  Obviously calling me out with "Yo!" categorized this person with not the highest level of education.  Most people who live around our neighborhood love that she's a rescue, even though her behavior around other dogs is in training (Barkfest, U.S.A.), and admire us for our efforts.


Me: "It's just not for us."


But this guy...it boggled his mind that I didn't want to use an animal to benefit my bank account.  I think he had the same effect...crickets when he looked at me.  Yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion.  I just found his repulsive, and he probably thought that I was a fool.  I am...for Costco-sold vodka over ice, with diet tonic, and a lemon wedge.


But I guess I didn't have a pre-planned nice way of saying, "Listen assclown, do you know why there are so many bulldogs dumped onto rescue groups?  They're costly as a mutha-trucker.  They're a pain in the ass to maintain.  They can have behavior or aggression issues (hello!).  And most butt puppets don't realize this when they buy it.  So instead of contributing to the rollover effect in that puppies are sold and abandoned to shelters, I'll keep her legs closed and let her enjoy life."


Too much?


Bulldogs are the #1 most-expensive dog to maintain.  You can have a perfectly cheap Bulldog with only routine annual shots, or they could have a multitude of issues requiring frequent vet trips, surgeries, medication, and therapy.  And those costs don't include owner therapy of alcohol, mixers, and garnishes.  This is one reason why we went rescue.  Puppies don't come with warnings for their future issues...although Miss Sweet Pea is one of those lucky dogs with aggression issues.  Too bad she's not aggressive to morons who ask questions about pumping Bulldog sperm into her uterus.  That would have be awesome.


I feel that any soapbox measure would have gone in one ear and out the other.  I wish I wouldn't have froze like that...but when's the last time I had to stand for my rescue?  If I'm accosted about plastic bag use, you better believe I will fire and brimstone your ass to death about photo-composition.  But here...I froze.


Well I guess I'll take that frozen brain and put it to good use.  Margaritas, anyone?

happy May day

And what better way to chronicle that than with a stream of consciousness this Sunday evening as I wait for my dessert to finish baking.


* We have less than a week until it's time for the Santa Ynez Half Marathon relay in...you guessed it...Santa Ynez.  It'll be a bit o' a drive up there, but I'm pegging for gorgeous views.  I'm running the first leg at 5.5 miles uphill.  Yay.  Hills.  I need to write up an itinerary for Saturday morning, make a packing list of clothes and food items, and make a beer run.  We take fueling seriously.  Powered by PowerBar Chomps pre-race...honey packets mid-race....and beer and protein cookies post-race.


* My gams are finally feeling human.  Thursday I overzealously squatted and lunged my way into not being able to walk without people questioning hemorrhoids.  I waddled like a pregnant lady.  And I winced like someone with appendicitis.  I could barely sit on the toilet.  Many times I debated just peeing myself in the shower because it'd be easier than needing the wall braces like a geriatric in the hospital.


* Yesterday I stepped out for 8 miles around base.  However, the Santa Ana winds had a different idea for the day.  My pace ranged from 8:59 to 12:07 depending on the direction of the wind. I was pelted with sand that stung my legs, eyes, and ears.  I hid behind electrical boxes and buildings.  I almost hailed the Fire Chief that passed me to take me back to Running Buddy's house.  Running Buddy, her family, and an assisting Mr. Wookie were moving midst base housing, so I was alone on this venture.  It was painful.  So I struggled against the raging wind and power-walked home because it was faster than trying to run.


* I turned on the television and I'm waiting for the President to strut his stuff to the podium and divulge this information on a dead mastermind of terrorism.  This is unbelievable.


* My stomach was growling post-dinner and I was craving a baked strawberry concoction.  My stomach is now happy after it waited the 20 minutes for the smells to permeate the house.  But I think I need seconds.  Sundays are hard work 'round here.


* The laundry is about done.  The alarms just went off.  Time to fold the load.  After that second helping of dessert, of course.


* Life's just trucking along at a normal pace.  There's not much going on.  Mr. Wookie has been home under standard operating procedures at the squadron.  There have been a few training dates that have risen for the next couple months where he'll be flexing his muscles (literally) and protecting freedom.  This is what I like: advanced warning.