My first 100 days: Norfolk, VA [Part Duex]

“And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.” -Sylvia Plath

April 26th. Dulles connection. Redeye: LAX To ORF. Sad.

For some reason I always feel like the first 100 days into a new station will make or break your new situation. I was highly gun-shy in California since I was in very uncharted territory when it came to EVERYTHING. He was new to the squadron, and we were new to fleet life. This was the first introduction to the "Wives Group," and they were anything but understanding why we weren't married after like 56 days of knowing each other. Mix those welcomes with a terrible economy...I hated life. OH, and our condo we were renting sprung a MAJOR leak of sewage which forced carpets to be ripped up and later developed mold in the walls (so awesome).

So things have been interesting in my change back to the 757.

I've wanted to stall this move as long as I could. I didn't want to leave the life I built. I didn't want to leave the amazing friendships that developed over the years and distances of Uncle Sam's work-up, delayed deployment, work-ups again, and then (finally) deployment. I fought hard for the "Wives Group" to accept most girlfriends (there was one who faked a pregnancy for attention...so I kicked her to the curb). I fought hard for the timeline on my career. And I fought hard to go to Target for just sunscreen so my Ginger skin didn't fry like a pork rind in the South.

But now I'm here. In Virginia. And it feels like California never happened. Like it was all a dream.

"Do You Really Need to Work?"

We're taking a brief hiatus from the 25 Days of Christmas in part to a mega illness that I contracted (it's HIV, yo!) and the mental recovery of dropping the "work bomb."

I've toiled and I've troubled with this for a short bit. It was a mid-morning text from the boat (he really just emails my phone number, but that way we can have a 'conversation' when he's not flying/being awesome) when the words rang out. "We have Orders."

Gulp.

I remember exactly the day the last time this happened. I couldn't wait to give my two-week's notice then. I was burnt out and over the 'office drama' that everyone complained about (umm, I don't do drama). So one Friday, I walked into my boss' office and put my letter on her desk. "We're moving in 2 weeks." And that was it. My old job was a great blip on the employment radar. I learned a lot in life and corporate atmosphere (I worked as an Event Planner for a Legal 100 Law Firm). But damn, it wasn't hard to leave.

Now enter life in beautiful California. Other than this nasty cold spell that's plagued most of the Nation, life is perfect here....when he's not deployed, when our dog doesn't die, and when it's not rainy (like this morning). And so with a lot of counseling from past "work at home"-ers and business friends who makes sales look like stealing candy from a baby, I went forth with the plan to tell my boss the news of Wookie & Co.'s future. Almost everyone was in agreeance, "tell them early so they'll make the arrangements to keep a position for you just across the country."

Holy shit, I was an internal hot-mess.

I poured open the knowledge that our bags will be packed in a few months and the caravan across the great United States will begin. While we won't have a resident canine in tow to help make the miles more enjoyable with her lovable slobber and room-clearing flatulence, we have a petite gatita that's made a better friend than I could have imagined. So while we plan on shipping my car because it makes one less ass-pain, she'll be free to roam about the cabin as long as her tray table is in it's original location upon arrival each night and we can smuggle her into the hotel room like ninjas. Honesty is overrated.

What was I expected out of this? Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn, I wanted to provide ample opportunity so they can realize I'm not a commodity to lose. I wanted them to realize they have a few months to get everything in order for a remote Mrs. Wookie to answer the phone a week, "Good morning, this is Ashley" to my sales accounts and constant contacts. I wanted this not to be a band-aid-rip-off shock that I'm just moving without notice. I want them to pour over my sales records and customer loyalty. I want them to realize I'm a 'need' to the team.

But then the words left my boss' mouth as she soaked in the news...

"Do you really need to work?"

I. hate. these. words. And I can sense she was coming from a good place, however they just made me cringe. But she did warn that there is the reality that her upper management won't want a so-remote Mrs. Wookie, and that's the slice of pie I'll have to dollop with a mega coating of cool whip.

Who wants to help eat my feelings?

Define "need." Do we financially need me to work? No. We are fine with just one income (his). But what does that leave me? I get to be a housewife? Ummm...no thanks. Why did I go to college then? What would I do all day? I already feel like an incomplete person just after relocation because I have nothing 'going for me.' Yes, it's nice to settle into the house and explore the new area...but after 2 weeks, the jig is up. I'm a feminist with a pretty sturdy foundation that women can do a lot in this world (minus throwup after being kicked in the crotch) and that includes hustling a non-1950's Secretary paycheck. So why would I want to decline the twice-monthly deposits into the ol' bank account?

So my conversation ended just before the 5:30pm mark. I knew my boss needed a cocktail to soak in the news. And I need a drive home to escape. So into the car I got, tears brimming at my eyes, feeling like a failed at trying to negotiate my own future and happiness amidst Uncle Sam. I sent Mr. Wookie an email, but what I really wanted was a hug. A big, deep bearhug.

Once home, I didn't open the margaritas. I didn't open a bottle of wine. And I didn't open a beer. I sat on the couch with my loving feline, obtuse to any knowledge that I just dropped the "work bomb" as we've coined it. She just wanted a place to snuggle while my feet were propped onto the coffee table. And together we watched Jeopardy and then a marathon of Say Yes to the (Overpriced) Dress before calling it a night. But still...I tossed and turned the whole night. What will come of this? Will they make the arrangements to super-remote me? Will they offer a handshake and stack of letters of recommendation instead?

Part of me wishes I would have waited until Mr. Wookie is home that way I could have had the comfort of an actual hug with this situation. But out of discomfort comes growth, and this deployment has just reassured that I'm still as bad ass as I thought I could be (though sometimes it's nice to be a chickenshit, lol). So I just wait for my hug now in __ days (and get to cleaning the house before he comes home - crap!).

And yes, I've already started my secret Pinterest board for my Job Search 2014. I've worked hard for my resume, why give up now? So the suits and heels will get dusted off once we're settled, I'll start networking my old connections, and something will happen. Something always happens.

Thursday = i got nothing.

Every time I run with my running/wife buddy, I feel like an insta-boast.  She lives on base.  I do not.  She gets to run around gorgeous terrain, bodies of water - it looks like an estuary.  I live in a upper-end neighborhood surrounded by ghetto.  So I stick to my neighborhood.  And I've come to realize, that running where I walk my dog is BORING.  And I'd gladly drive the 10 miles to base, have her escort me on, and run with her than anything.  So much for conserving those fossil fuels when gas is $3.75/gallon.

I got a sunburn today.  It's March.

I only own one tank top in my running wardrobe.  It's time to change that.

I did have a momentary panic when for Tuesday's run, OMG, I've signed up for 3 half marathons - what was I thinking???, I just wasn't feeling running.  That and I had a humUNgo breakfast with Mr. Wookie who didn't have to be in super early like usual.  Big breakfast = questionable stomach.  But I put out 2 miles, what the training guide called for, and called it good.  Well, I called it "meh."

I looked in my bank account today and frowned. Where'd that chunk o' money go?  Oh, ya, race entry fees.  While the most expensive half marathon was $65 smacks, that adds up to missing money.  Good thing races are paid forward and now I just get to train myself to that June 5th, 6:00am start time.

Did I mention I got sunburned today?

Last night I made homemade lasagna. No, I didn't make fresh pasta or sauce.  I had leftover uncooked sausage, a half jar of sauce, and half a box of noodles.  Throw in some elbow grease, cheese, and a baking dish - that's a first for something that usually comes from Costco.  And I just realized, we didn't have garlic bread with it.  Woops.  At least the side salad was tasty.

Mr. Wookie flew home on Sunday commercially after spending the week in South Carolina.  He was there assisting some East Coast squadrons in training and loved every minute of it.  His debate of the week came when he was killing time between flights at Dallas/Ft. Worth airport's USO where they had free Girl Scout cookies by the box.  He just couldn't justify acquiring a few when we had perfectly good boxes at home and there are plenty of soldiers, sailors, and airmen returning from deployments that haven't tasted that deliciousness in a long time.

Mustache March is in full gear.  And it looks ridiculous.

I still need to get placemats for our dining room table.  I bought some at Target a couple months ago, but they just didn't work.  I'd die for some eco-friendly ones, but those usually come in a set of 4...and all I want are 6.  Not 8.  So I keep looking.

In last night's dinner conversation, Mr. Wookie's schedule is already so advanced that our next PCS is "on the horizon."  We just got here!  Can't I revel in the fact that I can get sunburned in March before Noon??  Can't I love that there's zero humidity here versus on the East Coast?  Can't I gloat that Southern California is not getting the monsoon-like weather drenching Mommy McD?  Can't I enjoy friends visiting in the next couple months so we can take them to wine country, LA, and the beach??

Navy Ad of the Week

In the El Centro, California area?  Join the NAF El Centro airshow this weekend!  Check out the birds (including the E-2!) and meet the crew (I know them too)!  You can find everything you need on the air show's Facebook page.

Found: Bartender for Hire

Well, good morning all!  How was your weekend?  Have you missed me?

I hope so, because I feel naked when I don't blog.  Now you're going to think of my naked, which isn't hard.  Just think of vampires, because I'm super pale.  Well, at least I was.  I now have a killer tan on my left forearm.  From driving.  5 days across country.  Who's got tickets to Nascar now?  Because this driver's tan is HOT!

Anyways, just thought I'd cue everyone in on our progress, in a bit more detail.  We've toured a handful of properties, driven by twice as many, and stalked the neighborhoods of many more.  You can tell a lot from the vehicles.  And this was all over the weekend (which we didn't think we'd really get to do much since most places were closed).

But today is Monday = first business day of the week.  And we're going to hit them hard.  Well not really, because we'd like let them think we're not Russian Nationals.  But we've been totally dressing up to see places...like we're out to date the property owners.

I'll say this.  I hate dating.  It's an evil dance that involves dinner, laughing at stupid jokes, men who need to lay off the cologne, and running for the front door after he drops you off.  Thus Mr. Wookie.  Dating over.  Ding.

Anyways, we're super kissing ass.

But after the long days out, we do come home for a beverage before we whip up dinner (picked up at the Commissary, since we're still living at the Lodge).  Last night was Stouffer's enchiladas = eh.  Anyone have any great, simple ideas for us since most of our kitchen is in storage?  Thanks!!!

Hi, Little Man again, what's your poison?

Not to say we haven't been busy.

With our last date on this coast rapidly approaching, we're ramping up to get the heck outta town by packing everything up.  And since I'm so anal, I've made lists of what's traveling in my front seat, what's going to Goodwill, what's good enough for consignment shops, and how much food is not in our fridge. :(

So yes, other milbloggers, we're moving ourselves.

For non-milbloggers, you have the option to move yourself or have the government do it for you (you are compensated for taking on the task yourself).  People do both, depending on their past experiences (some despise moving their own things, saying it's not worth the effort...while others swear to not have the moving companies break/lose their stuff).

Wook's been moved from both Oregon and Florida by the government, so this time we're breaking off tradition.  He asked if I was up for it, and since I'm no longer a working member of society...I said, "why not?"  So it's on like Donkey Kong!

We started yesterday taking down all the pictures, and starting to pile things together in similar categories.  The laundry's been tackled, drawers cleared out, and vodka continually reducing.

I'll be honest.  It started to look very sad once everything was off the walls.  We're actually doing this.  We're leaving.  But as Mr. Wookie reminded me, I still feel that I'm just occupying a little bit of his closet space in this place.  Our move out West will allow us to start something together.

We started listening to old seasons of The Office to motivate us, but every few hours or so we'd have to stop and watch a whole episode for nostalgia.  Packing is mind-numbing.  When's the last time we used this?  We don't really need this do we?  Our hallway is all Goodwill.  Obviously more pictures will have to be taken.

That and I started this book in hopes of finishing it before we head West since it's actually Mommy McD's.  So far, so good, and about 100 pages left.  So wish me luck.  I seem to moving through books lately.  Must mean that I'm getting incredibly bored not working!  Come on California!  I need more than pretending to be a housewife.

But what should land on our doorstep not 10 minutes after I checked.  And yes, that's a machete I'm using to "open" the box.  Doesn't everyone have a machete?

Why it's a care package from the Sheriff!

It just so happens to be a mini Beaver cooler.  Go Beavs!  This will go perfectly on our trek across as we plan on "acquiring" ice from hotel ice machines to keep snacks cold on our drive.  My plan is to have healthy snacks at our disposal to avoid the junk food that most gas stations have.  And by packing lunches, we avoid the higher cost of sit-down meals in restaurants.  So here's to our health!  Thanks Sheriff!