Saturday, September 29

Why hire the military wife?

The words, "She's a military wife, just moved here." rang out...and I froze.

We're interviewing a Navy wife. Oh, my, I remember my first post-PCS job search. It's nightmaringly stressful, but completely self-imposed. I know what it's like to want to just find a job. You just want income. You don't care where.

But then, you find a job and it absolutely sucks. So you quit with a simple email. Because two-weeks notice was not something I was going to even give them the courtesy of. They didn't deserve it, just like I didn't deserve being lied to in the interview process.

We're interviewing a Navy wife. Wait, what? We're interviewing an open-to-revealing-her-transient-status military wife? Man, that's ballsy - I never dropped that piece of knowledge in an interview. I wonder if she's had better luck with that move? Maybe I should try that next time I'm trolling for work. Maybe she's on to something.

We're interviewing a Navy wife. But what if I want to be the only military-attached at my job. What if I want all the sympathy and glory about "my sacrifices?" What if I don't want to share?

We're interviewing a Navy wife. Oh snap, what if we hire her...and she knows everything about the lifestyle...and starts dropping the knowledge bombs about order-cutting timeframes, etc. I've made my words very carefully to not ever make assumptions to my duration or potential moves. And I won't until it's that time. So what if she sells me out...or starts asking too many questions...or...or...or...

We're interviewing a Navy wife. Now I start feeling conflicted - on one hand, part of me wants to make sure she's taken care of and finds new work after her move. Then on the other hand, I feel like special circumstances shouldn't be given to her just because she moved. I believe that finding work post-PCS is about your credentials, skills, and meshing with the right job - not just any job. That's how unhappiness is bred.

We're interviewing a Navy wife. I wonder what base she's attached to, what her husband does, how long he's been in, and what awesome travels they've had.

We're interviewing a Navy wife. 

Good thing I don't actually make the decisions to hire - I don't know what I would do. And I feel terrible for actually wanting to discredit a woman solely because of her husband's occupation, but I now "get it" - although my opinion is more on the side of wanting to keep the lifestyle slightly muddled. When you finally join the "real Navy," outside of flight school and moving every 6 months, things settle down and you're able to have more of a real life - as opposed to being a Kmart checker for 6 months (I'd honestly rather die, quit, and work at Target instead - hello, discount!). I honestly thought our part of California is so rare for military action that I wouldn't see another military girlfriend/wife looking for work post-PCS. Well hello, I was wrong.

Welcome military-attached lady, best of luck to your job search - may you find something that you love at this duty station.

Saturday, September 22

The boys (and few girls) are back in town.

This week, the "tri-walls" were packed back up and the crew and team all cheerfully packed their bags and said, "I f***ing hate you NAS No Man's Land." Or at least that's definitely what Mr. Wookie thought as he POV'd home on Thursday. That place is no place for sanity (so sorry if you're stationed there - you know who you are!). But it's official - that was his last time there before we leave California.

It's all so surreal. Time. is. limited. Albeit we still have a year-plus should Mr. Wookie get extended (fingers crossed!).

For the past few weeks, I've been lost in a funk. But like last year's funk...I don't realize it until I've snapped out, lol. How smart am I? And I don't really know what it is about September that really sours my mood. Is it the constant aging that happens in September? I go from rockin' at 28 to SLIDIN' INTO EFFIN' 29. I'm so delusional about my age that I routinely keep writing "27" at places like the eye doctor, dentist, Alcoholic's Anonymous. Okay, two out of three of those places is correct. You guess which it is.

Obviously last year was well warranted since I was making ZERO money at my other job. Not that there's anything wrong with not making money....oh wait, there is. It's called, "What can you do in life without money?" Umm...nothing. You can live in your car. And that sounds just peachy.

But we've moved up and on - and I'm more entertained with my job than anything. I mean, there's nothing wrong with working at Petco for minimum wage (hello, discount!), but for someone with a love for marketing, social media, and e-communications, that's just not the place for me. I'd prefer to be someplace that gives me dual monitors, customers, and a place to use my college degree (which is in English, by the way, so I'm that douche that picks out your typos and tells you that the product code, "MOUNTIT" has the word "tit" in it. Some people just don't assume everyone is a pervert.

But slowly life is returning in the couple weeks Mr. Wookie he's home. Then it'll be back to a one-human household. BUT LET'S NOT FOCUS ON HIM LEAVING....AGAIN.

Let's focus on the fact that he was able to come home a day earlier than everyone else. Eeeeeek.

That was nice. I drove us to dinner to keep it a secret. He enjoyed two beers at dinner. And then we came home to watch the marathon of Big Bang Theory that was on TBS. It's the little things in life that are worthwhile.

And the little words - like "Bazinga."

Tuesday, September 18

I don't even know what to say about myself.

Hi. Have you missed me? Let's pretend we're on a date. But a cute local cafe, and not a chain restaurant. Mmmkay?

My name is Mrs. Wookie. I like half hour naps on my hammock (15 minutes front, 15 minutes back) in my swimsuit. Yes, we live on a golf course. Yes, Mr. Wookie yells at me that I'm going to blind the golfers. Haha - very funny.

Oh wait, we're on a date.

Let's make it a girl date.

So I've been with Mr. Wookie for many years, although we're just now facing our first cycle of work-ups and his upcoming deployment. And...I'm just trying to find myself. I want to strike that perfect balance between he's got all the love and affection via text and email, and I've got all the projects necessary to keep me from OD'ing on Real Housewives marathons.

It ain't pretty 'round here. But you ladies know this.

Oh, and I haven't had wine since Saturday night. Aaaand, I may have gotten a contact high from my friend's downstairs neighbors (we spent the night killing 2 bottles of wine, watching cheesy television, and later realizing we were really hungry).

[If you are a friend on Facebook, you know we also woke up to the smell of pot in the morning.]

So yeah...that was my Saturday night. I woke up 2 hours before she did, so I made a cup of tea and read Food & Wine magazine. Oh, the things you do during deployment: sleepovers, brunches, dinners, picnics, shopping, beach trips, sewing projects, picking up turtles off the floor (seriously), new electronics, yard work, and not washing my car.

More about me?

I like having shorter toe nails. I don't keep my fingernails long either. I only shower every other day. But I love dry shampoo (because of this). I prefer not to cook, but to chop everything necessary for dinner. This is where Mr. Wookie comes into play. He's the chef in our home. So when Uncle Sam requires Mr. Wookie's ability to work in an aircraft, reality sets in that I HAVE TO COOK ALL MY MEALS.

Le sigh.

I have a Size 8 shoe. I used to rock 3-inch heels for fun, but now I prefer shorter heels and flats so the midgets in my life feel adequate when they stand next to me. That and Mr. Wookie is a mere inch taller than me. And I don't like to squat to kiss.

Any questions? Will my blogging be more routine? I know, tell me about it. I'm trying....

Thursday, September 6

Baby Sister is one smart cookie, to know me like this.

You have no idea how much I like wine. Okay, you probably do. But so much I had to purchase a Goodwill-find 5-gallon drink vessel for retention since I outgrew my old cork container? Well now you do. Shucks. Some call it a dependency. I call it 'stimulating the economy.'

Monday, September 3

Labor Day: Cue the BBQ, beverages, and lawn mowing.

It's early afternoon and I've already been up, made my dish to share for a BBQ (zucchini salad), attended said BBQ, stared intently at toddlers wondering what in God's green Earth they're mumbling (I don't speak Toddler), and hoping there'd be enough cupcakes for the rug rats and me. Yes, I wanted a cupcake. And thought sometimes the adults should be fed first when it comes to the little things in life.

I didn't want to wait for all the kids to put their grubby hands all over the frosting. Does a 2 year old really need a cupcake like a hormonal Mrs. Wookie does?? No! But I patiently waited and hoped the kids would lose interest and see something shiny instead. Kids would grab a cupcake and run to tell others, "Hey, there's cupcakes!" Why are you telling others there are cupcakes?!?! It's called not sharing. You should try it.

Le sigh. But thankfully I got one. Life's rough when you don't have wine AND there's the chance you might not get a cupcake either. And that'd be a crime against humanity.

But with the remainder of the day, I'm realizing that we're getting into the 'time off' season of the year - my favorite!

Today is a day that honors the American workforce - because basically we're badass (what up, 'Merica!). I'll be honest, there are just so many days that are not applicable to me (International Mustache Day, I Don't Drink Day, Anti-Redhead Day), that I embrace the day that celebrates my staunch feminist grasp on attempting a career. Yay, I 'labor' at a computer desk 5 days a week. Give me a day! So they do. Thanks Congress.

For some Labor Day signifies the beginning of fall, but my Californian address has no idea what fall is...colder temperatures? Turtle necks? Huh? Ohhhh, you mean pumpkin beer. Now I'm with you.

But back to the "time off" season...

Next month comes my *holy gulp* birthday. Mr. Wookie is so lucky he's missing the month-prior's anxiety-fueled panic of getting another year older. Uncle Sam, you sneaky employer... November is the "We gave smallpox to the Indians" celebration (blargh, Thanksgiving). And lastly December is the best season ever with the holidays, real Christmas trees, stocking, 5-lbs weight gain, and Christmas spice beer. :)

Wait, where was the blogpost going?

I don't know. Either way, Labor Day has been excellent so far. I've been fed. What more could you ask for?

Oh, wait, on that note. I'd like to ask for the yard to be mowed. But I'm pretty sure that I felt a rain drop outside. And that's a sign from the Wine Gods to, Mrs. Wookie, the lawn can wait a day. Why don't you stay inside today, finish the laundry, make the bed, and finishing dusting the house?

Wine Gods, you drive a hard bargain.