This totally counts as doing something today.

What better way to avoid more laundry than to update the blog and my umpteenth promise for more??

Now: Mrs. Wookie's Pre-Deployment Realization

Le sigh. I'm bored.

Mr. Wookie is Day #9 gone to NAS BFE for their last stint of pre-deployment training and I've hit the "I"m bored" realization already. Crap. He's not even deployed yet. And you think with all the dates (August, October, November, December, January....soon) that have come since we first arrived 2.5 years about deployment, that I would have figured this out by now.

Wrong.

My mom recommends a pick up more sewing projects and maybe start quilting (which I have dabbled in research for a pattern that won't make me look Amish). However, I'd have to ensure I only have one glass of wine since sewing is better in straight lines.

Thanks to Amazon, I picked up some good deals on jigsaw puzzles over his 2-plus months of Summer 2012 pre-deployment training, but those got boring after awhile...all the pieces look similar (despite the wine). Plus the cat really likes the thought of batting around 500 pieces....and that was more battle than anything.

And I even had the thought of, "Hey, go back to school and get another minor or a certification that can be used at your current job and for any future job searches (since that is common with Mr. Wookie's career choice). But then I saw the costs....

...a post-bacc online minor (28 credits) in Marketing and Entrepreneurship with Oregon State University's College of Business is $7,000+! Seven thousand. Plus some. Umm...no thanks - that's just not an investment I'm willing to make since the rate of return is probably pretty low. I'll keep my current Bachelor's and Minor, thankyouverymuch.

And I'm wary of online schools (like Devry) because I don't know honestly how they're thought of by  hiring companies - to me, they seem kind of fake and unaccredited despite saying "accredited."

So ladies, help a soon-to-be-homefire-keeper out!

I. need. some. projects. And more than the ones I've perfected: wine tasting and dinners with friends. ;)

So far my Pinterest board of "Deployment Projects" only has the below...

[source]

Le sigh. This is going to be a long summer/fall. And yes, blogging is on that list too. Promise.

You want more! Back to "Glamour's 30 Things before 30" #11-15

In continuing the trend of Glamour's "30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She's 30", let's see how my answers stack up for the next 5 questions of this Q&A.

By 30, I "should" have ...

11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
Yes, yes, and no. It's not black lace that's the issue. Are you kidding me? In my size, I'll take what I can get. When you are a 30D+, the usually suspects are black and nude. Shock me, shock me. How glamorous.

12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
Well....I did buy myself a 4" featherbed right before Mr. Wookie left for the boat. I don't know if he was miffed at the timing or not, but seriously...sleeping alone for months with him or a dog is torture. Gimme some dead avian feathers to sleep on, at least. Oh, and let's not discredit the 20% off coupon code I used. Just because it's "ridiculously expensive," doesn't mean you pay full price.

13. The belief that you deserve it.
In life, no one deserves anything. You don't deserve college. You don't deserve the new car at 16. You don't deserve new clothes. You don't deserve a job just because you have an education. You don't deserve a baby. You don't deserve a sense of humor. You don't deserve anything.

It's people who make things happen, whether it's college grants earned, or parents with silver spoons to give out, or busting your ass for what you have. I've been at the bottom of the barrel where I don't even need to pay taxes because I made so little - but I've thankfully had a support system that can boost my ass off the ground and tell me to "Take care of yourself." But those down times are always counter-weighted with the 'good' times - the times of a great job, great coworkers, and great recommendations when I do move on.

Thanks to Uncle Sam, there'll always be that lull in my career as we dipple-dot around the country and I try to find new work. And it will break my stride and my pride. That's why there's a bar in our house. :) But, I can't give up.


But back to the original point: Yes, I do deserve what I have - because I worked hard, am thankful, and always remember there are those in worse situations in the world.

14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.

You really had to bring that up didn't you.

I made the mistake of trying out a new face wash not knowing it'd become ZIT-CROPOLIS.

Yeah, we have some weeks until Mr. Wookie is home - but that shit better be gone by then.

And unfortunately my "gym shopping" continues as 2 out of the 3 yoga classes were worthwhile (I'm looking for 3 out of 3 classes a week in the post-5pm timeframe) at my local 24HourFitness. And let's not start on the nightmare of parking and the massive dichotomy of clientele. The gym sits on the "Rio Grande" of six-figure incomes and food stamps. So you have Gucci handbags and Mexico-pride backpacks next to the wall in the yoga classes. Not to be snobby - but I don't like either of those types. I don't want to smell tostadas sweating through your pores while you wear your belly chain to class - and I don't want to see you rocked 7 carats in total weight in class either.

15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better.
Yes and yes. I used to think that you needed to be a VP of Marketing by 30 (or something else high-titled). Then I realized that 'wow,' things don't go that way at all. I still want a Master's in something, just not sure what yet. I feel that everyone is trying to wade out the lack of employment by pursuing additional schooling so now it's just a shit-storm of formally educated people without a dime of real-world experience. So in that sense, I'll keep my Bachelor's and resume - until that time comes when the Hood is calling my name.


And while I don't actually consider Mr. Wookie and I's almost-9 years together as a "solid start" - when in reality it is considering we're still in our 20's and have plenty of living to do - I agree, we have a good start. It's only going to get better, right? Right.


I also have a solid start on: wrinkles, snark, drinking alone, Friday night pizza dates and slumber parties with fellow Junior Officer lifetime partners, cleaning my home before Mr. Wookie's brief return, and scheduling a boob job in my 30's to get the girls back up to Los Angeles' standard.

Finding motivation in the Sea of Lack

We're rolling into our third calendar week and I'm starting/searching for a rhythm for life that keeps me entertained, not constantly drunk from boredom, and not burning my debit card from the constant swiping (or online entry to Gap.com, Amazon.com, and I'mbored.com). So far, "meh" luck.

As I mentioned in my goals in my June Reboot of Life, I'm attempting to rid the funk of no longer being a canine owner by making my ass a little smaller. I'm glad when Department Head wives can make me feel relate-able when it comes to Salty Time with the Navy. Most of our Department Head wives have been around since the college days, so they've experienced a handful of detachments and deployment without and with children - thusly they have millions of pearls of wisdom compared to my few years attached to the non-ROTC Navy. So when I say that my butt grew from wanting to just lounge on the couch with Mr. Wookie as opposed to being active, they knew exactly what I was feeling. They had butt-growage too during their Junior Officer years.


So last week I ventured the 1.5 miles from my work to get the Tour de YMCA since most of the wives already frequent that gym for kids' swim lessons and their own working out. I got my 3 Day Pass for trial, and gave myself a pep-talk before my first yoga class. You can do this. If the classes suck, no big deal. Find another gym. But seriously, I hope they don't suck. I'll be honest. It's been a year since I touched my yoga mat. Last year was the year of partially working out of home, partially working from home, so my running game was in gear. Now...not so much. While I do have an hour-long lunch, sweating it out on a 3-mile run in 85 degree weather doesn't sound like fun. So thank goodness for the above referenced classes at 5:30pm.


I guess my overall feeling is boredom. I've tossed the pity party aspect out the door since it didn't net me anything except an extra wine cork and cereal for dinner. But now I just feel like I'm going in circles without any real entertainment. Although today I did unveil some 'awesome.' After going to bed at 2am (after some quality wine time with a DH wife), I was up at 10 (I'm so proud of myself), mowing the lawn, trimming down the plant life, washing my car, and vacuuming that sucker out all before 4pm. And let's not forget the laundry that was back-burner'd since someone else needed things washed before the boat (let's not wait till the last minute - eh?).


Maybe I should pull the trigger on those jigsaw puzzles I've been eyeballing.

While I decompose on my couch, let's do 10 random facts on Sunday!

I'm trying desperately to find the balance between staying busy (both mentally and physically) and dusting off the cobwebs of this dear blog. It's important to continue to speak my mind and express how life is while he's away since I'm trying to stay busy.


But let's have 10 fun facts inspired by my Baby Sister!


1. I cleaned the Master Bath's toilet yesterday. While it wasn't as torturous as I remember cleaning a toilet, it's definitely not my favorite part of cleaning the house. But this is definitely something that Mr. Wookie prefers (cleaning bathrooms versus vacuuming, anything else) - who am I to take that away from him?


2. I've set a new goal for detachments, boat time, and deployment. I will enjoy a bottle of wine a week. Red wine is healthy....so who am I to turn away something for my health?? Right???? And it goes without saying this week was a double dose of health. I've added TWO corks to my stash...


3. I'm trying desperately to unEarth my vehicle from the layers and layers of dog hair that has imbedded into the back and front seats (who am I to keep Sweet Pea from riding shotgun while we roll around around town)...so far I've tried wet sponges, velcro, and tape. Last ditch effort: kitchen gloves....


4. I don't like coconut. I think it tastes foul. Although I'll eat it in German Chocolate cake because that's The Sheriff's favorite cake - who am I to lower myself on the ladder for a trust fund later in life??


5. While Tuesday I was mentioning that I was ready to hang up the military lifestyle because I was tired of the loneliness-inspired separation (hahahaah - Ginger....so soon!), I think 72 hours is my breaking-in point. Because after that night, I settled into my own routine. (Maybe the wine is helping...)


6. The Vow looks terrible. Awful. I have zero desire to see it.


7. There's nothing like crawling into crisp, freshly washed flannel sheets. I did that last night. I got home from my monthly "Wives" meeting, put on some flannel pajama pants (see a trend?), poured a glass of wine, watched some Iron Chef America, then called it a night before 9pm. Throw in my electric mattress pad on heat setting 6, and it's heaven. I'm surprised I even crawl out of bed at all....


8. I haven't made coffee in my house since he left. And so with that, I...uh...hadn't cleaned out the coffee filter since then. Uhhh.....gross. Time to clean the coffee maker....because I'm pretty sure a touch of moldy coffee grounds isn't the same hint of flavor that Bailey's provides...


9. It's obvious I don't live the same lifestyle as the Duggars (hello...my name doesn't start with a "J"), but I love them. Not that my vag wants to pop out 19 children, but I think it's an entertaining family with great morals, decent fashion sense (come on! It could be a whole lot worse!), and fabulous attachment to their siblings.


10. Have you seen the blog Advanced Style??? These women are FABULOUS. I can't wait to rack up the years and be as stellar as they are. So here's taking care of my health with fruits, veggies, healthy foods....and wine.....right??? It's all about those antioxidants... ;)                                                                             

Mrs. Wookie's Friday Night math

Mr. Wookie + Vegas + college friends = Mrs. Wookie in her pajamas as soon as she got home.
Mrs. Wookie - Mr. Wookie + Sweet Pea = still shared body heat at night.
Mrs. Wookie +/- Mr. Wookie = she still makes the coffee in the morning.
Mrs. Wookie + Sweet Pea + squadron family with a new puppy = training day for said new puppy to get experience when not all dogs go to heaven are friendly.
Mrs. Wookie + cocktail + remote that won't work = Mrs. Wookie cavewoman-banging the remote on the floor.
Mrs. Wookie - personal chef = nachos for dinner.
Mrs. Wookie + broken remote = Monk. ugh.
Mrs. Wookie - clean cups = cocktails out of coffee mugs.
Mrs. Wookie + rum + Coke = happiness and ice cubes.
Mrs. Wookie + math blogpost = I'm tired. Time to go bash the remote until something better comes on.

Uh oh. New blog design itch. Must scratch.

I will say I went quiiiiite awhile with my current design. But alas, it's time for new. So let's hold on tight like it's the thrill of your lifetime. And I'll lead you with a tidbit o' fun.

Last night was calm. It was a sweet night together, dinner at a swanky high-class restaurant where we were the last people to leave. The weather'd black man on the keyboard playing Jazz was perfect. We stuffed a $5 in his jar. I ordered the rack of lamb. It was just right. The leek and potato hash... caramelized and tender. I so wanted to grab the rib and chew the fleshy remains, but I refrained. Instead I took home the half i couldn't eat, including those meaty ribs, so I can savor the delicacy from the comfort of my own kitchen.

My Cabernet from Washington State was a hefty pour. But at $10/glass, you expect the over-indulgences. I sipped my wine throughout the dinner. We were the only ones in our area. The conversation was on money. On our dreams. And how we'll travel the world. We expect life to only get better. We know there'll be more trips to us. They probably won't contain the ability to sock away $20 million into Swiss accounts and live beyond Warren Buffet's wildest dreams, but we'll at least work hard for what we want. I'd die to drop everything because of a trust fund to support me. But then again, the value of a dollar and my self-engrained stance on getting the best deal on life wavers the dreams of going to the airport and hopping a random flight to somewhere exotic.

I've never flown first class. And I never want to. I know people who have. Mr. Wookie. And he says it pains him to fly couch since that experience. Although he does, because it was his mom who sprung for that first-class ticket - he's just dreaming of the high life.

Oh yea...my story.

We finished the night with champagne. A pop. A pour. A kiss. And a "I can't believe it."

Then I woke up the next day with a slight hangover. One glass of wine. A glass of champagne. That's all it took. Note to self. Stick with just the champagne....

Double, double, banana bread trouble.

Thanks to the farm stand for the dead bananas. They couldn't have had a better sign, "FREE." That's the way it should be with dying produce. Don't throw it away to rot in the landfill. Give it up to those who are technically allergic to the potassium-heavy fruit, but are more than capable of enjoying their baked bounty. So I grabbed two 6-fingered clumps of 'nanners and rung up the rest of my produce.


What recipe did I use?? Just the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook that I got going away to college. No need to fancy up banana bread to me. The ol' fashioned works!

And because a slice o' bread isn't worth it until there's a heavy smear of buttah. Because we need to grow heavy coats in this part of the country. It's cold here. Brrr....


Excuse me while I lick the bread knife clean.

it's official: 30-day notice.

There are some things in life I'll ball-bustingly do. I'll kick that douchebucket in the balls. I'll slap an assclown. I'll tell my mom she's wearing "mom jeans" (if she did, but she doesn't because she's stylish). I won't lie and say your baby is cute when it resembles a tire flap. And I'll pour you a hefty shot after you have a pregnancy scare.


But there are somethings I won't - like give 30-days notice on our current place.


I can't believe we've been in California for almost a year. At this time last year, I was not working anymore with my cronies in Virginia Beach. I was reigning in my last moments as "Aunt Bop" to Mommy McD's (horribly stinkin' adorably cute) 2 out of 3 offspring (the latest was still in utero). And I was trying to wrap my head around a D(o)ITY(ourself) move. Long story short: By the time Mr. Wookie actually had orders cut and called the moving people that same day, because of all the Academy grad influx, there wasn't an available date for 3 weeks. And that didn't work when the boat needed him sooner than that.


It may have took us 4 days to find a place, but this town has tried to be good to us.


And then we got a dog. I'm trying to make this post coherent - no, I haven't been drinking.


If you go back to this post, you can see we live in a condo building where there's no direct and privatized access to a yard. We have to go outside the building, onto the huge lawns to walk the dog and let her drop a deuce. So you can imagine the fun to be had when Mr. Wookie's gone, and someone (me) has to leash up Miss Sweet Pea for urination every 4-6 hours. I'm over it. I've been over it for months. I've also been voicing my displeasure with the situation for months (much to Mr. Wookie's dismay). I've never been a fan of suburbia, but BRING IT ON!


So beginning mid-month I began the hounding process of finding new digs in a county where half of the housing is pure shit, the other half is Real Housewives material. First off, which houses don't allow dogs? That narrowed the list heavily. Secondly, which houses are in neighborhoods where the Crime.com reading is off the charts? Thirdly, he loves granite, I love hardwood floors, and we both love neighborhood security teams (no, really, we have that in our neighborhood now because the surrounding area is skeeeeeezy).


Unlike the last move where everything was handled by Mr. Wookie, I took the bull by the horns with this one. I made a Google doc spreadsheet with each house, their contact number and name, details on the property, thoughts post-tour, future tours scheduled, and ultimate decisions. I think I impressed that boy of mine.


After touring, discussing, touring again, further discussing, discussing some more, touring another property just as a last ditch effort, we found a new place. That means it's time to break the news to the current landlord - something I wanted Mr. Wookie to do because he's a boy and that's their job.


Too bad Uncle Sam told me to "Nut up and shut up." Mr. Wookie had to fly that day. So I gave the written notice myself. And it wasn't that hard. I know resisting Girl Scout cookies is harder...


So there you have it. We're moving. Mere miles away from our current home. And thanks to recently moved squadronmates, we've accumulated enough boxes to fill the Ark. Time to get packing. Now who else is for hire? I'll pay in beer. And you can walk my dog.

the downside to keeping them up.

If you know me, you know I've got some boobies. I've got cans. I've got a rack. I've been "blessed." Or "cursed," depending on how you look at it. Yes, boobies run in the family. And running runs in the family. And we all know running and boobies...uhhh...don't mix. I like to keep my boobs from saying hello to knees until at least retirement age.

For the last month and a half, I've been going rounds of purchases and returns in order to find the bra for me. I've tried my local department stores and shops, but unfortunately retailers (even in California!) don't carry my size. What's my size? Oh, a 30. What's the average size at shops? 32 and up.

I blame this reduced rib size on my training for a relay and a half marathon. Running burns mad calories (even when not trying to qualify for Boston). Trust me. I run and I eat. No anorexia here. Hello, do anorexics drink like I do? No. Those are empty calories to them. To me, it's therapy. ;)

But today was the day where I received my golden tickets. My bras that fit like a non-OJ Simpson'd bloody glove. The bras that I worked for a month and a half to find. The bras that took many rounds of returns, trying on sizes and styles, and sulking in the color choices of nude and black (wow...so stylish!).

Oooo...what's this? New toys? Man, those are big!

I've been able to throw my old bras into the get-rid-of pile and put these beauties into my drawer. Yippee!! For most women, bra shopping is torture. It's up there with swimsuit shopping. And forcing a Democrat to a GOP convention. But I have to be happy now. Mainly because I'm not tripping on the girls anymore.


Now if only my extra new sports bras would arrive (same story, different style). Wah wah.

Uhh...are you in the right place?

I'm just out for a leisurely pooping stroll with Miss Sweet Pea when there was something out of the ordinary. In our neighborhood, homes can have private docks, and those private docks house yachts that cost more than my parents' house, my Brother's house, and our current condo combined. People have some money, yo. Or they have mad trust funds.

But a paddle boat? I don't think they're in Kansas anymore...

Mrs. Wookie, where have you been?

Let me be honest. Living in California has turned into California-could-be-Hawaii. There's lounging when not working, there's this amazing amount of sunshine that's been around, there's Mr. Wookie when he's home, there's Jeopardy, and there's a great neighborhood with plenty of Mr. Wookie's squadronmates.

Life's not hard at the moment. I've been enjoying life-away-from-the-blog. I apologize for not informing y'all of my every movement, but sometimes I just want to escape.

But one day that actually went decently documented was the 4th of July. I love the 4th. It's my third favorite holiday...the first is Christmas...second is my birthday (hello, presents!), and third Viva 'Merica!

The day was gorgeous. It's days like these that we love living where we do. Now if only I didn't have the motion sickness I do, otherwise I'd enjoy boat rides like Mr. Wookie does with the guys. At least I'm not kayak motion sick when paddling around the neighborhood, because that wouldn't be any fun.

We've been barbequeing it up with the whole squadron at the Skipper's Bail. We've gone to the beach and have visited Santa Monica and Malibu. Mr. Wookie and I are even planning a romantic trip up to Southern California wine country to entertain our love for expanding our wine country...and our love for dry reds.

And Mr. Wookie's been fishing, on this particular boat too, but hasn't been too successful. This boat is what happens when you're a prior-enlisted-turned-Officer with no girlfriend and making loads of money. He even asked Mr. Wookie to join as co-owner. Good thing Mr. Wookie is financially smart and said 'no.' To prove his point in not co-purchasing, there's already been engine issues. Point Mr. Wookie.

But unfortunately the local city's fireworks were super weak. I would have rather stayed home and gone to bed (since I had to work out of home the next day), and snuggled with Miss Sweet Pea. Yes, there's more to patriotism than fireworks, but at least humor me with more than this half-ass attempt of bottle rockets. So instead I made the half mile walk from this house while Mr. Wookie partied on Wayne. And then I cuddled with the dog.

And there's been a lot of this lately. We're enjoying the great weather, so much that the back door and windows have been permanently opened. Oh, you think this little lady is cute? I agree. Oh, and see that pink toy? That lasted maybe 2 hours. She's brutal with that powerful jaw...she's going to cause bankruptcy. Just kidding...do I look like a Real Housewife of New Jersey? ;)

[Nothing clever for a post title]

That's one toaster. One toaster purchased when Mr. Wookie moved out of the dorms his sophomore year of college to live with a fellow (but future Drop on Request) ROTC boy. Where it came from? Not sure. But considering our lovely alma mater is a small-ish rather redneck town in Oregon, it was either KMart, Fred Meyer, or Target (if you made the 12-mile drive to the neighboring, slightly larger town that had a real "mall").


Now to toast...well,...toast...you need bread. Ahhhh, that's the missing link between wake-up and breakfast. There's nothing to house the butter (the real stuff) and jam while indulging in my coffee in the morning.


Life's been a little jostled since flying the SoCal area for Oregon last week. I've been away from the world, much like the "digital hiatus" that's making it's way through the blogosphere. Sometimes it's nice to just...get away. I like not having to report my every fart, heartbeat, booger, and cocktail. Sometimes life's just a boring piece of shit where the sun shines on the beach and temperatures reach 77 degrees. Sometimes all you want to do is take the dog in for a "pawdicure" - no, I didn't name that. Sometimes all I want to do is throw on my pajamas, contemplate the pain-in-the-ass nature of buying bras online, and how I need a pedicure but just got one while in Oregon.


Oh the life of Mrs. Wookie. Oh so difficult, but oh so easy.


But let's get back to needing bread. Friday's schedule includes something to rectify this.

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!

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.

royal wedding!

I'm up!  How in the world?!?  1:30am is so early!!  But let's get this Royal Wedding started.  While I don't consider this monumental history, I am in great celebration from the couple.

There's something about not rushing into any formal relationship.  I admire them completely.  While plenty of people give them huff for spending so many years together, marrying so late, there's something to be said for not cannon-balling into the decision.  But as a royal, they don't get to do what we do.  We get to maintain our privacy and independence while they don't.  Okay, maybe not the privacy since I blog about us.  


Yes, they've had their ups and downs, their separations and their helicopter landings, but I respect them for shoving tradition.  They're like the Marshall and Lilly of England.  I love it.


Obviously I'm a fan of not being a lemming and jumping into marriage the day after college graduation.  I'm a fan of indulging in 5 Hour Energy in order to cheer these 2 on on their day.  I'm a fan of 5'10" ladies (ahem, Miss Middleton).  I'm also a fan of of whole nights of sleep.  But I'll get that another day.

Yays and Nays

Nay to waking up so damn early.  Really, that was such a rude wake-up call.


Yay to her looking GORGEOUS!!!  I saw a hint of Grace Kelly in it.  And I could tell how skinny she was since reports said she kept dropping weight because of nerves.  Girl, time to carb up.


Nay to the long-ass ceremony.  I was over it - an hour?  Really??  I wish there was a Cliff's Notes for it because I struggled to not take a bathroom break.  But then again, weddings kinda bore me.  Now the reception is where it's at.


Nay to the children's choir.  I swear, everyone had a mole on their face.  The collars were very fluffy.  And all I thought about was how Michael Jackson would love them.  The boys, not the collars...although he may like the boys in the collars.


Yay to the hilarity of the percussionist - he really got into his tympani.


Yay to the random 5 Hour Energy we had in the pantry.  I don't know what I would have done without it.  Oh wait, I do know.  I would have fallen asleep on the couch.


Nay to Victoria Beckham's hat.  It looked like...a crowning vagina (I went there).


Nay to the 2 princesses (Prince Andrew's daughters) behind the Queen.  They reminded me of the ugly stepsisters.  They could have used a stylist.  Stacey?  Clinton?

7 things thanks to 6 miles

The smell of donuts is enchanting - and this morning was no different as I hit a mile into today's 6 miles.  While they're not the healthiest thing to eat, once in a blue moon will NOT hurt anyone.  I've been trying out a thing where I have 4 donettes pre-3-mile runs (that way in case they don't sit well, it's an easy turn back home).  So far, so good.  The simple sugars are a quick energy...plus...I get to eat donuts.  Dur.  That doesn't take a CaveWookie to figure that out.


Fun fact: I don't like Krispy Kreme (watch as followers un-follow).  I'm a cake donut person vs the yeast-based like Krispy Kreme.  And it kinda skeezes me out that they're warm.  Turds are warm.  Not donuts.


Over 2 miles out, I passed a mini mart and mental-noted that I'll hit that place up for water on my way back (out and backs are what's up here).  Well just under 4 miles, I stop in and sweatily asked the guy, "Where's the water?"  I'm looking a little haggard.  It's about 9:30am and the temperature is rising (I debated putting off the run until tomorrow, but then I realized I'm making tacos for dinner...and yeah, no, no run will occur tomorrow post-tacos).

I find this cute little bottle that'll kinda go into my hand without me looking uber flail-ish.  Plus it has a brilliant marketing campaign.  Water...with magnesium.  Magnesium prevents muscle cramps.  Hello, great for legs post-run.  So I waive the water bottle, "Is this under $2.00?  That's all I have."  Enter next person in line..."I've got the rest!"  Screeech, say what?  Or AC Slater, say what?  This nice Samaritan pony'd up the rest of my water bottle cost.  Sir, you are amazing.  And I thank you.  So I hand over my super sweaty dollar bills (they were in my shoe...jokes on them) and drink a couple ounces and step back into the rhythm.


Poor girl's guide to compression socks...throwing your legs up the wall and letting the blood drain that way.  Okay, I may not be poor...just stingy...and I'm holding out until Uncle Sam loosens his wallet and kicks back what mama has coming to her.  Then maybe compression socks.  But the wall is cheap.  And it comes with a personal de-sweat-er.  It's called Sweet Pea.


No boys checked me out this time.  This route runs past a Coast Guard station and I always oogle.  And what's cuter than boys who don't deploy?  Umm...well, nothing.  They have the same cute uniforms as the Navy, except they play in the water...like those crazy rescue swimmers and such.


I'm still not eating breakfast or having coffee before running because I don't like to have my stomach in knots and I bow out 65% into my stint.  Instead, I hear relentless sloshing of my empty belly...so when I smell donuts, I really start drooling.  I'm going to experiment with white bread and peanut butter (in alternation with the donettes) since my usual 96-GRAIN-UBER-HIPPIE bread has too much fiber for me to handle.  Ahem.


My fuel packet today was a honey packet courtesy of KFC...from Virginia...from a year ago.  Yes, it was a little crystalized.  But yes, still delicious.  I like to keep things low brow 'round here.  Can't have people thinkin' I'm a high-horse riding Officer's lady friend who likes to stiletto dance over the poor, little, defense-less enlisted wives.  Umm, have you met some of those enlisted wives?  Yea...Master's degrees...traveling the world...they're hot shit.  Yes, some are 19 and haven't been outside their home state.  The same came be said for the O'Wives.  There's awesomeness in both pools; there's sludge in both pools.


I got new socks yesterday (score!).  I was at the mall looking for jeans, when all of a sudden Lady Footlocker appeared.  Clouds parted, angels breakdance'd.  Some people spend $20 on a single pair o' socks.  I hit up the LFL for the 3-pack of Asics for $10.  Holla.  Oh, what's this?  Buy one, get one 50% off.  Well shucks.  Guess that there is a purchase....with a 20% military discount.  Bad-ass mammajamma.


No, no luck with jeans.  Gap had some good stuff, but I wasn't sold.  American Eagle was a bit 'young' for me.  I'm 27, not 50...but still camel toe-rockin' skinny jeans....erm...my time has passed, thanks.


And tonight is Taco Night!  I don't know which I'm more excited for.  The tacos...or my dinner guest.  Tonight's menu was the ONE thing keeping me on my running schedule.  Thanks to Friday morning, my sleep schedule has been a little off.  So I briefly contemplated catching back up on my sleep this morning, and toughing out those 6 miles on Sunday.  Oh, what happened Friday?  Oh, you'll find out tomorrow.

lazy Sunday

I think I've pulled the eyeboogers out of the corners of my eyes.  It's only been the first cup of coffee, so I could be wrong.  And Mr. Wookie isn't here to be grossed out and walk away.  So I'm still on my own to dig into eye mucus and string out the junk.


Yesterday I was tagged by Every Branch with 10 Things I Love!


The afore-mentioned 10 things I love...


1. When Sweet Pea takes a deuce in the yard of a foreclosed house.  Because I feel zero need to pick up said deuce.  You couldn't pay your mortgage, I don't feel inclined to pick up her delivery.  Besides the house has gone to shit anyways...what some turds for accoutrement...?

Picnic time along side the South Umpqua river with Dr. Stacey Kervorkian

2. My Z/2 Chacos in Basil!  Yes, I love my lesbian strappy sandals that are perfect for hiking, kayaking, boulder climbing, fishing, theme parks, traveling, etc.  I bought them for $90 before I went to Germany in the Summer of 2007.  I've not regretted the decision for one minute.  In fact, I wore mine Tuesday to meeting my running buddy.  She's wanting some too.  Can't blame her.

3. (This one is a 3-fer!)  I love traveling...with my family...and eating at In 'N Out!

4. I love the outdoors and anything to do with nature.  This tent was put up after a few adult beverages - which turned out to be not a smart decision.  Set up camp first, imbibe second.  And always pack additional toilet paper.  Always.

5. I love a good, cheap, Asian pedicure.  You know what I'm talkin' 'bout!

6. I love myself. :)  I think I'm hilarious, a great friend, and I never take myself too seriously.  Unless there's a sale on shoes, vodka, lemons, Chippendale dancers with rockin' deltoids, or airfare to Oregon or Washington, D.C.

7. I love that we rescued a pet.  Sometimes you can rescue and have it bite you on your ass.  Not all animals are rehab-able.  With our big ol' girl, we feel like even her worst traits are minimal in the 'she could be so much worse' category.  Her worst thing is eating paper.  Weird, we know.  But we'll take it.  Oh, and there's her squeaker ball habit.  But that one is just costly.

8. I uber heart coffee.  I don't know what I'd do without it.  Seriously.

9. I [currently] love Brussels sprouts.  They're lean, mean, green little bundles of mini cabbage that are awesome, delicious, and hot-damn tasty.

10. I love that I was able to re-subscribe to Runner's World for less than $9 thanks to Amazon.com's magazine Deal of the Day.  After not renewing when we left Virginia, I felt a missing piece of literature in my reclaiming of being a Half Marathoner.  I just don't love waiting 6-10 weeks for the first delivery.

Now I'm supposed to tag 10 people.  10 people?  What do you think I am?!?  A mega blogger?  Maybe a mega-pain-in-the-ass blogger.  How 'bout this...you wanna let me know your 10, then link up below and I can lurk and gurk all day.

We take Sundays very seriously in this house.  Please, don't disturb the sleeping canine.