Happy belated Halloween.

"Most of us don't need a psychiatrist therapist as much as a friend to be silly with." -Robert Brault

Since settling into Norfolk again, there's been a range of emotions from longing for California and my salty friendships from yesteryear's deployment, to begrudgingly attending the Knives Meetings when everyone already has their friendships intact from flight school and East Coast duty stations. So like a moth to a flame, I've been extra clingy attentive to spending more time together and trying to navigate he-in-the-instructing-pipeline and I in my working-from-home-sponsored-Vitamin-D-deficiency.

I literally can't thank the world enough for sending fellow West Coast brethren to live in this now-frigid location that's not quite as chic as The District nor as classic Southern as Charleston. It's Norfolk. Le Navy's armpit. And yes, I know there are sketch parts to both D.C. and Charleston, but let's be honest - you think we'd live in less than glamorous places?? No. No. No.

Thankfully this Halloween we were able to celebrate in style and warmth as I rocked my 30-degree leggings beneath the made-in-China penguin suit with my fellow West Coast transplants. It's been a very rocky transition back here. It's obvious as I fall off the blogging wagon, hunker into my bed before 9pm each night, and eat myself into feeling better (hello slightly-bigger-butt). I sense that I'm failing at this military move mindset and can only watch myself trudge through the motions. Thank goodness I have tickets already for California. We're going to need a bigger boat checked back for the return trip.

Hello 31. Nice to meet you.

"It's a helluva start, being able to recognize what makes you happy." -Lucille Ball

This was the start to my morning. Or actually the sounds of footsteps slowly creeping upstairs as to not slosh coffee about while I slumbered into a slow wake-up at the refreshing age of 31. I registered the mug setting down on the stack of books loaded upon my nightstand. I lessened my partial sleep when I heard the shower water gush into the wall and the slink of the curtain rings across the railing. I'm warm in bed, I thought. Do I move? Well yes, Ginger, there's toasting coffee on your nightstand. Can't let that get warm. 

And while I may just embrace this age since 30 seems so young and juvenile (cue laughing - but not enough laughing to deepen any wrinkles on my face). When we were out at the concert on Saturday night, I embraced my life, "I'm going to be 31 on Monday." 

"No way. You look like 22."

Ummm, yes. I am. But I have the boobs, thighs and ass of a 31 year old. Trust me. And the mirror.

Thanks to my Ginger mama for the lack of pigment which forced me to slather with sunscreen since the age of 6 months while my chubby body enjoyed the Oregon summers. Sunscreen is your friend and helps you look far younger than the DH wives, XO wives, and CO wives you'll meet. This is a good thing. Life's about competition - they drive a minivan, I'm just now competing with crow's feet.

This weekend I also treated myself to an impromptu 'You want flowa?" shellac manicure at the salon.

"Bitch, throw the hairtie."

Eventually I crawled my ass out of bed and walked the 24 steps to my desk to begin 8 hours of countdown until I could get to presents and dinner. Because what's the point of growing a year older if I don't get cool shit to compensate for the decline in my skin's elasticity?

Mr. Wookie was exceptional this year as he was not only present for this event, but he strengthened the "happiness factor" that I felt was missing in my life. He's sensed and heard about my uncomfortable-ness with moving back here. My social circle is non-existent, minus the cat. The lack of sunshine, beaches, and In N Out is just cramping my style. So his sole effort was supplying a reason to "fall" for Virginia. I've also been complaining about the change in seasons.

So what did I get?!?!?

He bought me a new hammock - one that's not destroyed by the sun's rays after 3 years in SoCal beams. He also 'splurged' on the deluxe hammock pillow for that extreme laziness and relaxation. The best part? The hammock is navy and white...and my 'car blanket' is navy. [A car blanket is that shoddy/outside-okay blanket you keep in your trunk for baseball games, picnics, and galore that you don't mind getting dirty.] So my new challenge while being here is 'How long can I lounge in my hammock? At what degree will I force myself in?'

Stay tuned.

He bought me those shove-in-the-ground wine glass holders...and yes, I've already used them from my hammock's reach.

He bought me a new book...

(This trend is amazing!)

He bought me a stinking monthly trial subscription to Stumptown!! He mentioned that while it's crisp in the morning, we can warm up with fancy coffees to try - we're also buying a half-cord of wood, but that's not a birthday present...just a winter necessity.

And I'm still waiting on my finale gift, which is coming from overseas, and has to go through Customs. Damn. He's said it's the heaviest. Dun dun dun!

So after the pomp and circumstance of flowers on the table, wrapping paper on the floor, and a new Chilean Malbec in the decanter, we trekked the half-dozen or so blocks to a swanky little dinner joint over by the hospital. I had the duck; he had the tenderloin. We split the recommended wine for the evening. And we gawked at the amount of people still out at this hour (it was past 7pm - we're old, what can we say?).

So here I am, 31 and unbelievably happy. I never thought being this side of 30 would have been this great. Join me, will you? You bring the wine. I've got the wrinkle creams.

My Weekday Morning Routine

It typically starts around 6:45-ish, when the roar of the coffee grinder infiltrates the house. Mr. Wookie is up earlier than usual as his schedule is full from 8am - 3pm. I sense the pending happiness after the water boils, the crushed beans soak for 3.5 minutes (exactly), and I wait for the trail of feet up the stairs (cat sometimes included, "Mom, you up yet???"). But then I stay in bed because my laziness is in full force.

I work from home - where do I really have to be?

Some mornings I up with the sun and can make oatmeal with my Property Brothers before traipsing into the office for my customers. Other mornings, I don't feel like doing a damn thing - I barely throw on shorts and a t-shirt before stumbling over to check voicemail. Though thank goodness I did last week as the neighbor was getting their roof repaired. Why hello Mr. Roof Person...thank God I'm dressed more than usual today.

Sometimes I make the bed. Mostly I don't shower. Sometimes I eat breakfast. Mostly I drink more coffee. Sometimes the mornings are full of business, dollars, projects, and cheery East Coast customers. Mostly it's a slow start to the day as only one timezone is up and I can organize my desk after terrorizingly busy days.

There are days I long out the window for the happier climate of California. Shit. No, I wish that everyday.

My ebbing and flowing continues here at this duty station. So far the social scene is eluding as we're "those that took California orders" (BECAUSE WHO WOULDN'T???). We didn't stay in Norfolk, we didn't build relationships through flight school to keep them through sea tour to have them for shore tour. Nope. We ventured off to the land of not-East-Coast-living because...well...it's amazing. And while I still remember how DAMN EXPENSIVE it is to live on the SoCal coastline, I would do it again and pay more to stay there forever. So finding those like-minded people has been entertaining. Thank goodness my cat is back, people. And apparently there are people who turn down West Coast orders because it's "too laid back."

I'm at a loss, people.

Damn, I'm also out of coffee now so I have to get up. Ugh. Why can't this duty station come with a personal coffee butler...one that's not in the shower so I can yell for more. I've still got 42 minutes until 8am - why ruin that by getting my own damn coffee?

Belated Meow Monday

Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

Oh, the Virginia storms

"The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain." - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Mr. Wookie saw this rainstorm coming before it ever hit our house. I just sat in my office working until the world grew dark, the wind whipped the trees, and then the rain threw itself down the house...washing the new grass seed from the back yard (so close, but still so far from having a lawn). And now we're at 100% humidity this morning and the clouds still lingering, like a blanket fort without circulation. So I hunker inside until I have to leave at 5:10pm for my Tuesday night yoga class. California would never treat us like this. How rude, Virginia, how rude.