Friday Fill-In and a Work Potluck

You guessed it, today I have a work potluck. I signed up for...a fruit tray! I know, I know, how terribly boring. But seriously...you know how tiring it is to see dessert, after dessert, as opposed to fiber, nutrition, and taste. VERY TIRING!!! So I'm bringing healthy eating back...a little. In the form of natural sugars skewed on skewers. Because as the new girl, I'm making things tre chic.


But let's get to some answers, and clear the cobwebs that have occurred since my last Friday Fill-In. Sorry folks, my Fridays have been a lot of solo drinking, dog snuggling, and hammock time while Sweet Pea lounges in the shade on the concrete like a junkyard dog.


1. What’s one thing in the past month you would have changed?


Umm, how about this week...one thing I would have changed this week. How about my behavior yesterday morning. I woke up on the WRONG side of the bed. Mix that with Mr. Wookie cuddling up next to me saying mornings where PT is cancelled is the best because he gets an extra 20 minutes to curl up next to me. You think, "Aww, how sweet!" right? Or...you freak out, shriek that he woke you up before your alarm, now you're losing out on sleep, are obviously a little hormonal thanks to the time of the month, and just an overall monster despite the fact he was on the boat less than a week prior. Welcome home, babe, welcome home.


I've profusely apologized (I was a bit of a bitch yesterday), and offered him extended cocktail refill services. He in turn told me I reminded him of Hannibal Lecter. I chewed on him with a side of fava beans apparently.

2. What was your favorite thing that happened in April?

April was pretty boring, minus VEGAS with the family. Oh yeah...YOU NEED PROOF OF THAT DON'T YOU!? Let me just get tech support out here so I can blog from somewhere that's not Mr. Wookie's Global Domination Station (his chair is uncomfortable, it's not a laptop - because beggars can totally be choosers, right?).

3. What are your plans for Memorial Day?

I might be watching Mr. Wookie work that day. Or I might be part of a 'skeleton crew' making time and a half while playing Solitaire at work. Either or, not a bad day. :)

4. Have you ever traveled Space A? If yes, where… if no, would you ever try it?

Nope. Never Space A, never standby (wink, Accidental Olympian), and never Southwest (please! I'll pay more for my seat to ensure I'm in front of the wing [prevents motion sickness], have a window seat, and board before Grandma and her stoma).

5. What are you looking forward to in May?

It's been called "Maycation" by Uncle Sam for a reason, because afterwards is the shit. Months gone. Few weeks here. Then deployment, which contains...you guessed it...more months gone.

A laptop without Internet is merely an expensive paperweight.

I'm coming down from my fume, but sometimes when life hands you lemons...you just want to throw them at someone's head, even if it is Mr. Wookie, and not care if he loses an eye. Blogging. It's a selfish game. I want to talk about my day, and the Internet is screwing that up for me. Doesn't it care that I went to the dentist today for a little attention, came back to work under the effects of a numb face, and wondering if people on the other end of the phone call think I've hit the 'It's 5 o'clock somewhere' concept at my desk. Umm...no, not drunk, just impaired in another capacity.


Either way, Internet has been spotty since Sunday (thanks to our provider). Why is it that each area only has one provider for shitty Internet (and is Internet supposed to be capitalized?)? Are they trying to just piss people off. Well either way, it was only that Mr. Wookie was able to have things working properly was Time Warner spared my seething phone call of anger and pissidness (real word). I have a phone voice. I can connive you into feeling terrible about my story. I can convince you to upgrading my shipment to Next Day Air (true story). I can dazzle you with my brilliance. Dance, puppet, dance.


But now...it's not them. It's my laptop. First it was a battery issue. I wanted more. There's me getting greedy again. And now, is it too much to ask for effin' connectivity so I can blog from somewhere other than Mr. Wookie's World Headquarters of Videogame Dominance??? I'm about ready to throw the laptop out the window and start chiseling these updates on stone in order to be heard.


This obviously has me researching any and all other options available to make me and my computer happy. I don't want a 2-year contract a la AT&T. I don't want something that resembles Will Smith's phone in Fresh Prince connected to my USB port. But I want something that will allow me to lounge on my couch, in my pajama pants, and not be stuck in Mr. Wookie's very-uncomfortable chair. Now, I know I bitched about being stuck on the couch when I didn't have a battery that would hold a charge...and so you know, I'm. eating. my. words. Although Mr. Wookie's desk is closer to the kitchen and thusly...(you guessed it)...closer to the wine that is helping calm me down. Mom, I promise it's not a dependency. It's a necessity. Wink.


But hey - we're starting off May right! With a blogpost! And maybe more deep thoughts will come your way this week. Or, you'll continue to hear my wrath of a laptop's connection gone AWOL. Or both. :)

Remember that time I waxed my legs?

Oh, you don't, do you? Why not? It was monumental. Oh...wait, I know why. That was today!


You know your friends when you can text Mommy McD a picture of your shiny legs.

Earlier today, these gams were covered in yetty fur. Okay, okay, not really...I mean, come on. There's something us Gingers are good at - it's having blonde, thin leg hair! In case you didn't know Gingers are terrible candidates for electrolysis. :( So instead, we get to settle for hot wax being applied in thin layers while a piece of cloth rips out the roots. All while gabbing with my Kat Von D-esque waxer lady about how this really didn't hurt all that much. Let me compare it for you. Dentist = pain in the ass. Pap smear = just plain annoying. Leg waxing = easy.

Now you're probably thinking how gross it is to go the necessary weeks in order to have the hair ripped out. But think about it. I'm. from. Oregon. Not shaving my legs for a few days is child's play. I mean, please...let's try something that actually takes work. Although grossing you out might be a bad thing. Do I want to tell you the last time I shaved my legs? No. Well...maybe. Will I actually gross you out? What if I just skip over how long it had been. Yes, that's a good call. Don't worry about it, guys. Let's just say there was an appropriate amount of time to let these little gams represent more like little lambs. Sorry, that was lame.

Anways, back to the ripping of skin. I had actually tried waxing my own legs in high school. Okay, it was technically that "sugaring" craze that was all the fad. Sugar, honey, and probably badger sperm, but any way - that. was. painful. Not only could I not get the temperature right, who actually wants to rip the cloth off their own leg???? It's the worst thing ever. You know when the rip is happening, so your erector pili totally clench up (woah - I just dropped that knowledge bomb of anatomy on you). I would never try that again. So basically that was what I was remembering today when I stripped my pants off and sat on the table. Although in preparation for hanging out in my 'roos, I did wear rockin' cute ones.

So at first, I didn't want to watch - I didn't want to fear the rip. But then after the first couple strips on the shin, I realized, Hey, this actually ain't too bad. And then before you knew it, it was time for the knee.

I even got extensive compliments for having ideal peach fuzz (umm, thanks?).

And now I can't stop rubbing my legs. This is fantastic. I need to do this more often. I can avoid spending 3 years shaving my long-ass legs each morning (not like I did), and just have the hair ripped out. I. love. it.

Not that not having shaved legs prevents me from wearing shorts or skirts. Please. A little peach fuzz never hurt anyone. Leg hair is the new black in Oregon. And I like to bring a little piece of home where ever I go.

If I could relive any age. It'd be 24.

With each birthday I wince a little more as I'm closer to needing Juviderm, a boob lift, a newer version of Mr. Wookie, and more candles on my cake. At 20, I thought 25 was old. At 25, I thought 28 was ancient. Now I have a sibling, his wife, and friends in the 30's category, and I can't believe I'm almost there. Shit. Where'd my young appeal go? Where did the 'it's appropriate to get black-out drunk at 21 and stand out on the corner in my underwear because I was dared?' (Umm...parents, totally...uh...not true).


But unlike people my age who are telling me to 'settle down' and that I need to grow up, I feel like there's a little something wrong and that you're only as old as you feel - and let's be honest, I feel pretty spry...as long as I've had my 8+ hours of sleep. Uninterrupted.


Yeah, I think I'm in geriatric country seeing as I'm in bed a little after 9pm after I rinse out my glass of Metamucil and put my dentures to soak. Fail.


So when you work next to someone who just turned the ripe age of 24, you can't help but tell her that was your favorite year. I had just graduated college months before, and had spent a few weeks galavanting around the German countryside and cityscape as the first member of the family to 'jump the Pond' spending my hard-earned money with style. Then later that year, I was literally on an extended vacation with Mr. Wookie while he was stashed in Florida before flight school (we extended the need for one-way ticket back to Oregon as long as we could). Don't know about my thoughts on Florida? Read here. We were traveling all over the Southeast, hitting up Disney World as my birthday present, and enjoying that new found money commissioning earns you. And also enjoying the quality of life 4 fresh Ensigns gets when you combine BAH and rent out a $2,000/month home complete with semi-indoor pool. I had maybe a few hundred dollars to my name, my life in storage back home, and not a care in the world in terms of responsibility (didn't have any) or needing to begin my career (it's true, you have the rest of your life to work).


There's something about traveling when you're young. I say 'do it.' While you regret purchasing that hat in Berlin, you'll always have the memories of experiencing another culture and seeing more outside of your own community. The hat may make my pictures look dated, but the times I had there in the Englischer Garden in Munich with my litre mug and pretzel remind me of a time where locals would come up to me and yammer on in their native tongue. Uhhh, sorry y'all. I'm an imposter. That sense of accomplishment that I'm capable of traveling outside the country without being identified as an American...that is until I speak; I love that. And I want more of that.


She says she wants to travel before getting tied down with marriage and kids - and as a pretty stiff feminist in that realm, I can only fuel the fire. Yes, there are instances where you can travel after marriage and kids (as in OCONUS orders with the Army, etc.), but how many people do you know that say they'll travel but then never actually do? I know lots. There is a certain gusto that being single and uterinely unused brings to life. You can do stupid things (tattoos, Vegas, that porn career you've always dreamed of). The notion that there's literally nothing holding you back. You can die without anyone relying on you for support. Life gets much more difficult after you spawn. With a dog, you can just board them. With a human...you have to either connive Grandma and Grandpa for take them for a few weeks.....or.....uhh, I got nothing. See? Much more difficult. And even if you're trying to take in a European babymoon, you're still lacking a lot of the culture (because who really goes to Germany for the food - COME ON, it's all about the beer!). 


This may be why I'm fretting about growing older - because with more age comes actual responsibility (please don't think I actually have babies on the brain or are incubating), and that squashes the chances of seeing the world like a leaf blown through the wind. Instead of the idea of spending months abroad, with a Europass and a rucksack, there's the daunting horror that you only have 2-weeks paid vacation a year and that chumply amount is barely worth one country overseas (in my opinion; I'd rather travel one country in fervor, than sporadically jump around and barely see any city without depth).


So you can tell I'm hoarding my vacation days as there's Uncle Sam's sponsored 'vacation' for Mr. Wookie later this year and we don't know POM leave might be or what kind of trip we can make out of it. Part of me thinks that with the schedule that's slated for the squadron, the changes that have occurred, the increase in boat time, and the way the deployment date has yo-yo'd more than Kirstie Alley's weight (is it this month? or that month? or months from that original guestimated month?)...my inner event planner is having heart palpitations. I. want. to. know. Will we have the chance to go on a small vacay? Or will we receive notice like this last stint away? A text one afternoon saying, "Hey baby, I've leaving in a couple hours." Oh, okay, no worries. Glad I gave you a 'I'll miss you' hug this morning. Wait - not. Instead, I probably mentioned for the billionth time that you put a wet towel on the bed. again. and asked if you left me any coffee. Love you. Mean it.


Hopefully after this duty station, and this deployment, we can enjoy another round of leisure and frivolity. I'm dying to introduce Mr. Wookie to Scotland.


Please don't hate me because I don't have kids, throw my feminism around like a Italian talks with their hands, or am a Ginger. Actually, go on and judge the Ginger aspect. We're awesome and I can take it. I just can't take sunburns.

I love you. But you can leave now.

This whole work-ups cycle is an interesting one. While I still am not used to having plans change on me literally the night before his bags are packed and by the front door (hello...there's snuggling with my pooch to do), there's a certain amount of hair growth on the peaches when Uncle Sam requires a couple weeks ago. And if I could have it my way, I'd much rather have the Japan-esque type of deployment that Mr. Wookie's sister squadron is more accustomed to (out for a few months, in for a few months, like clockwork).

Instead, there's us. A squadron that's been stagnant for more than a year as the USS Defending Freedom has been in the docks prepping for its next great adventure for Mr. Wookie's squadron. And with that, you can sense the amount of backlog that karma has stored up for the next available deployment for these guys. It wasn't too long ago that we went to the Squadron Pre-Deployment Meeting (gulp). While some of it was information that I kinda had my head wrapped around (i.e. scheduled auto-drafts from Mr. Wookie's personal account to the home account), some things made me panic...despite having months left in this preparation. I don't have a will yet. We need to have passwords written down. And our bed hasn't been pimped out yet.

Wait? What? Mrs. Wookie....that's not on a deployment checklist.

It's not? Hello....if he's going to be spending months on a boat with a bunch of dudes, few ladies, port calls being the only brink of sanity, and a plethora of flight hours being chalked....I'm going to be sleeping in a glorious new bed. It's only fair, right? I must be comfortable. I'm keeping this sad homefire lit. I want plush and cozy. :)

But let's break out the ground rules first. We're not actually dropping money on a new bed. Our mattress is still within an appropriate lifespan for a mattress, so I'm happy to not part with the coin for a new mattress. Those things aren't cheap. So if I'm able to put a little blush, lipstick, and mascara on my current digs - I'll do just that.

So first up: new sheets. :) And because I'm never one to drop full-price...thank you Tuesday Morning for the sateen sheets. They're gorgeous and crisp. And add a punch of color to the room. Don't know what Tuesday Morning is? Think Ross...but for home items (also similiar to a Home Goods, but that's a good 20-mile drive from me). It's fabulous. Not a beautiful store, but beautiful prices on things.

Next up: a featherbed. :) Although that's something that will require parting with a little bit of hard-earned money. I've got my eye on one and a half-off coupon up my sleeve (what up!). So when sound sleep is expected while kickin' it with the dog as I fight for sanity against having conversations with the resident canine, I'm getting that 2" of luxury beneath my body.

I hope Mr. Wookie isn't feeling too much like his bum is being kicked to the boat already. I hope he feels instead it's the training needed to survive the long months where he's emailing me from the Ready Room the 3 sentences that are his typical response to my novela-like emails. I've got something planned for him as well. It rhymes with 'shmail shmorder shbride."

Lady, enough with the hiatuses...

[via]

I have good news! We...have....a working charger for the laptop! And the crowd goes wild! With only a few headaches with chargers not working, there's finally light at the end of my tunnel.  I'm sitting at my dining room table and enjoying the free range (like chickens) that a laptop really does apply. Now if only the bloody marine layer would take a vacation and give me freakin' sunshine, I'd be a lot happier. My hammock is meant for peace and comfort time - not pants and Columbia fleece time.


It's been shockingly over 6 months since I ditched the psuedo-Mad Men gig of a design studio for the better-paying job in the e-commerce division of a major distributor (think Dunder Mifflin's Infinity website - but actually successful). With that has come more money and better benefits (I think everyone can agree this is good). Well...with more money comes that slow crossing off of things we've wanted for the house. You know, the big ticket items. Where big dollars are dropped. Like a compost bucket. Okay, okay, that's not big ticket...but it's been on the list for months, I just haven't found something I liked. No ceramic, no less-than-a-gallon capacity, no filters needed. Yes to dishwasher-friendly, yes to tolerably cute, yes to free shipping. *Purchased* Due here Thursday.


I don't want to onslaught with the world's longest blog post since there's so much to catch up on, there's just this overwhelming feeling that 2012 is taking a dump on me. January wasn't the easiest of months, and life has continued to play cruel games as Uncle Sam is desiring more time on the boat before deployment even begins. So while deployment may not be record setting in length, we're all thinking from here on out (until PCS) he'll be gone most of the time.


Oh, and I apologize in advance if you've seen some of the varying templates that I've been sweating and swearing over. Apparently asking for a new *free* 2-column, minimalist  blog template with a 960px header is asking for a gay man to have bad fashion sense. Impossible. So unless you have ideas, recommendations, or charitable designers that allow payment with vodka shots and 2 Advil...I continue my search.

Time to Swiffer duster the blog.

Check one, two....check, check...key strokes still here, fingers still working...

Want to know what the menu looks like this week? Well this is it. You guessed it. Mrs. Wookie is sleeping...well technically alone, since we're classifying Sweet Pea's allowance on Mr. Wookie's side of the bed for 7+ days away from the house. This run will be less than that time frame, so she's shafted to the dog bed. It it were up to me, we'd have a King-sized bed, she'd sleep in the middle, and her butt would face Mr. Wookie. But instead, since I like cuddling next to the resident Caveman and not smelling the asinine creations of the dog's backside...we're rocking the Queen.


I know, I know....it's been cobwebs on this here blog, and I feel like I have a good excuse for it.


No, it's not wine.


No, it's not vodka.


No, it's not a side life as a freckle model.


Oh goodness, I would die!


Instead, it's been a technical issue. In order to blog (successfully) in my opinion, you need 3 things. A laptop, a battery, and a charger. I have a laptop. Check. And as of a week ago, I've had a new battery. However, when you buy a more powerful battery to make your blogging more powerful (ha!), the sad charger of yesteryear is left being about as effective as Viagra with a geriatric coma patient. Yup, I need more power. Cue the Tim Taylor grunt.


So what's en route via USPS (what, no tracking numbers!?)?? My new charger. Thanks to Amazon for a new 90W charger without the mark up of Dell.com. I can't wait for you to come visit me. And be my friend. Because then I won't be tethered to the bloody wall with a freakin' cord stuck to the side of my computer.


I've tired of not having a real laptop. Instead, I have an ass mark in my couch since I'm stuck needing to draw power through the wall since my new battery isn't capable of actually charging on the low wattage adapter. So as soon as that cord arrives in my mailbox, I'll be doing the Ritz all the way to daily blogging entries (or at least more frequent than my blooger-flickin' existence).


My ultimate goal is to blog during my tediously long one-hour lunch break and make it useful. While reading is useful and entertaining when it's nonfiction and worthwhile, sometimes a Ginger likes to blog about the stupid crap that's going on her life (and sometimes a Ginger wants to make readers jealous with her mad hammock lounging, Vegas vacations, and COCKTAILS!). So wish me luck. And wish USPS a fast delivery time otherwise I may have to resort to poppin' more corks.


Or even when the charger does get here, I'll still be poppin' corks. Hello...Uncle Sam is never kind.

Today totally felt like Friday. Damn.

I'm here. With a small plate of stuffed mushrooms. There wasn't enough cheese on them, so like a failed vegan...:.I added more. Not that I'm dabbling in the veganism at the moment. You know Honey Nut Cheerios aren't vegan, so I fail by 6:30am. Whatevs.

Tonight was glorious at that. I've. had. wine.

And not just any wine. I had wine while Mr. Wookie ...cleaned...the...kitchen. Praise the Lawd.

He's done with his courses. One Master's semester bottled into 2 weeks of procrastinative pain as he wrote a collective 92 pages of bullshit and assignments that will earn him more credits towards that Hood of Masterdom. But that gets me thinking. I want a Master's. I can't be the shlump without one in the house. Not when he wants a second one. Douche. So yes...I want more. But the question lies in, "In what?" I don't know, my friend. I don't know. It has to be useful, applicable to moving around with the Navy (and naturally I hate needles so nursing is out, I hate kids so teaching is out, I don't like non-drinkers, so therapy is out), and not in an overly saturated field. So yeah....

And to correct if I sound like an asspain. I did put effort into the kitchen this week. Each night I chipped away at the lime and rust that encrusted the kitchen in excessive pot and pan dirtiness. But sometimes you need a Mr. Wookie's touch. And sometimes the female of the house just needs to "corrupt" Mr. Wookie's computer speakers with Rihanna, Beyonce, and Nicki Minaj (because you may not know, I'm actually black).

But let's talk about the challenge on our horizon. No, not the one that's involving months at sea, or the new one that's also months at sea (oh yea, lucky us!). It's about Mr. Wookie and his Squadron. There's....a.....challenge that's begun. And it makes me nervous. 6 weeks. of. a weight loss challenge. *gasp* I know, I know - you're thinking 'big deal.' I agree. Although once you learn the terms of the challenge, that's where my protective butthole starts to pucker.

Are you ready for this?

Are you...............?

Losers have to....

What do you say when...

...when someone mentions they're not on birth control? And married...


"You know you can get pregna".......Oh, you probably want that.


Oh....do you know you won't be able to imbibe? It's practically detox.


Obviously babies are far from my mind. I don't see 4:30am unless I'm at a late night wake remembering our friend who passed in January, telling stories in his honor, eating smores, partaking in a few social cigarettes (yup, I had 2...because it's only fitting for one hand to have a clear Solo cup of sangria and the other a fag).

Maybe I should be on Hoarders.

There once a weekend spent cleaning out the cobwebs of the closet. It was spring cleaning time and after tackling the filing cabinet (purge, purge, purge!), I got to my momentos (those collectables from various trips and accomplishments). Sometimes it's nice to see where you've come from and how you're making life happen. I love seeing old pictures of Mr. Wookie and I in the throes of long distance. While it did wonders for our sanity and all the detachments we're currently in and the deployment that's later this year, I still can't believe we thought it a good idea.


Either way, that's not the story of this post as I can ramble a million words about how I couldn't have lost my job at a better time.


There's an internal battle that brews in my siblings and I's heart - a battle that's not a pretty one. We're born with....wait for it...a slight hoarding gene. Not bad enough for my mom to actually appear on Hoarders (yet), but she's definitely kept her fair share of items that should have been pitched long before. I can already here my siblings now commenting... I classify my mom as a "sentimentalist."


While hoarders will have barns full of ammunition, tractor parts, and just weird stuff, my mom keeps other things. Like the pregnancy tests from both my sisters. Mom, let those go. That's just gross. You peed on those things. You already have the mental scars of a whiny baby (Middle Sister) and an always-hungry baby (Baby Sister). That's enough proof. Toss the stick.


My mom also has this salmon-colored, cowl neck sweater from the 80's one of my uncles gave to her. It's a semi-crop waist'd number that's near and dear to her heart because one of her brother's actually bought her an awesome gift (which I can totally relate to - Brother bought me yoga pants from Target like 5 years ago for Christmas and they're still my favorist lounge wear still [good job Bro!].


And so...the gene....rears it's ugly head in this particular blogging offspring. There are times where I do the same. Oh, I totally need to keep this article of clothing because I once wore it to something important. Or Oh, I totally need to keep this book because I read it once for a college course and it totally makes me look smart while on my bookshelf. Or Oh, I totally need to keep all the Congrulations! cards from my college graduation because....IS THIS A FUCKING GIFT CARD I NEVER USED???!?!?!!?


Right there. In front of me. Staring back with "are you an idiot?" plastered all over it was a shiny, white,...Crate & Barrel gift card. "Congratulations Ashley!!! Best- Laura" How in the world did I miss this? How did I not use this up IMMEDIATELY. It's C&B. It's divinity. It's...still loaded?!?!?!?! So I call the number on the back of the Crate & Barrel gift card (I know...how awesome could this be!)....


TWENTY FUCKING DOLLARS! cha-ching!!!


Dude....I'm $20 richer. Rollin' in those Benjamins. Or Lincolns...whatever. But damn, I came running outta my office faster than a bootlegger during Prohibition. "Babe! Guess what!??! I just found a gift card from 5 years ago. AND IT STILL HAS MONEY ON IT!!!"


Winner, winner, chicken dinner.


Yes, I know the dollar isn't as strong as it once was, but HEY! I just found $20 in a fucking card. Gimme a little bit of hoarding credit. I do have gems in my shit. $20 gift card gems.


I knew what I was going to get...I've been needing more single serving glass storage devices for leftovers, cooking for one, lunches, and the like. While Mr. Wookie rolls his eyes at me because he deems them all frivolous (umm....'squeeze me...I pay for things myself AND I FOUND A GIFT CARD - shut up!), I knew exactly what I was getting. It was on the back of C&B catalog that came the week before. AND there was a 10% coupon code to use. So you can guess how fast it took me to whip out my wallet to finalize the "big" transaction.

Alright, so here are the goods. With the steep price tag of $19.95. Throw in 10% off thanks to a coupon code, add that pesky Californiasucksabigtoe sales tax, and the high-priced shipping charges - you've got a GIMME GIMME GIMME transaction of $6.somechange. Heck to the yeah.

So somewhere between 3-5 business days later, I had a jolly ol' package on the porch. While Mr. Wookie's been busy buying outdooring equipment, I was jazzed to finally have something arrive attention to MRS. WOOKIE!! I couldn't wait to open 'er up. And have a look.

Hello gorgeous. "Mr. Wookie, take a look!" ::shoulder shrug:: He twasn't entertained. I was DELIGHTED!! There they were in the glass bottom storage glory. Ready for everything from green beans, to soup, to single servings of pre-washed grapes to go in my lunch, to looking beautiful in my cupboard.

Now if you won't excuse me - I have things to cook and then put away leftovers. :)

The Jonestown Hammock Massacre

Yup, I've done it again. I've lost ya. I've gone mornings, lunch breaks, evenings, walks with Pooch, welcome-home-from-late-night-flight kisses, dinner, dishes, laundry without even thinking of this here blog. And it's not that I mean to - thanks to Uncle Sam and Mr. Wookie, I've been busier than ever.

Mr. Wookie is here. Although technically speaking, he's physically here. No, he's not in a coma. No, he's not forced to sleep in the BOQ on base (although that may be nice). No, instead he's been working his tail off with 12+ hour days, then he comes home where's been a zombie student (or student zombie) finishing up coursework for his Master's classes this term. So essentially, he's been here but not. And I'm kinda wishing he just wasn't here. Because then I wouldnn't have to do the cooking for two, extra laundry, and extra cleaning that comes with him being home - because sadly, he hasn't been much of an addition to the home. Instead, he's stuck sitting at his desk bitching at his computer, zen music on repeat in the hopes that it settles him down and helps pump out that paper-age (that's plural for writing papers). And I'm forced to live in the house like a monk (get it? silent.). Wah wah.

Thank goodness for today (plus you get an assload of pictures. Just wait for it. Pun upcoming).

Enter hammock. Enter a weekend of intended showers and shitty weather (showers for you none Pacific Northwesterners isn't a deluge of water at once, it's intermittent throughout the day, varying in severity and quantity, but just overall squashing any yardwork plans you may have). Enter leaving Vons this morning after grocery shopping and sweating my butt off since I wore layers as it was cloudy and cold this morning.

Viva. Hammock love.

It's the weekend. And this is what I'm choosing to wear. Yes, I went shopping in it. Because I'm young(ish) and I don't care. Plus...it's less laundry to do. And yup, now I'm just rambling. What about that time I went 6 days in between cocktails. I know, shocking right? Sometimes all you want is a lemonade, iced tea, spot o' tea, water, Gatorade, E-mer-gen-C (when your boss is sick), or horchata instead. Weird...I know...(sorry, rambling....)

See how I don't mention the assload yet...

What is she doing? Oh, probably playing DrawSomething...or discussing this evening's plans on Facebook. Comedy show with the "Knives Group?" Don't mind if I do!

I was even mean enough to lock the dog inside the house today while I enjoyed the sun. Because nothing ruins the zen-like moment like clickclickclickclick of dog nails on the ground. I want peace and comfort time.

And then again, I succumb to the relaxation of the hammock. Face down, ass up....

When Spousebuzz makes ya think.

I wrote this last week and now apparently have the ball to push 'publish.' Eeeek...I'm kinda nervous. Oh boy...


Do you rank judge? Point blank, do you? What if you say yes? What if you are lying to yourself and say 'no?' What if your honest - will be people subsequently judge you for judging? All these things swirl my mind with SpouseBuzz's recent article on being rankist.


I'll be honest - this article struck a cord with me.


But before I throw you under the bus, let me answer the questions myself. Do I judge rank? Well...sometimes. In the military, sometimes people get promoted when they shouldn't. You're left scratching your head about 'Umm...really?' Maybe you didn't see what the deciding factor was, but there are times where I'm not sure if they're meant for that next pay grade - so yes, I judge.


Where this article went was someplace different - it went there. The place were the demarcation between Enlisted family and Officer family should resemble the DMZ. Where "all" Enlisted wives are 20, lazy, immature, and squanderers of the paycheck and "all" Officer wives coat-tailed their way out of college in search of pedicures every Friday and the notion 'they're better than everyone else.' Because those are all true, right?


Because you'll never meet an Enlisted wife with something to say, who's chasing her own dreams of college and a career, who's husband is Sailor of the Year, and they're doing just fine. Just like you'll never meet an Officer's wife who happened to meet him before he thought of the Navy, who's willing to stay behind for her own career as her husband Geo-Bachelor's for a year some place far off, and they're doing just fine.


As someone attached to Mr. Wookie - who just happens to be an Officer - I can say that I  like to keep an open mind between the ranks. Yes, I'm happy to follow a lot of Enlisted family blogs. And yes, I read a few Officer blogs. In the realms of the Officership, there's not many of 'us.' And I mean 'us' by the fact that there really aren't a lot of awesome blogs that just happen to feature a CaveWookie in a flight suit. And when you think about the blogs that don't sign off as "Mrs. Lovin' the Meal Ticket," there are even few humble (and hilarious) blogs I'd bother read.


I'd like to think of myself as someone who breaches those lines of stigma, someone who will be kind, help out, and wish the best of luck to a fellow military-attached lady facing PCS, deployment, or home renovations. Because there's nothing saltier than a girlfriend/wife of 10+ years, more deployments than I have fingers on one hand, and the ability to pour a health serving of wine - and then recommend which teeth whitening systems will remove those wine stains after a 10-month deployment (because do share!).


I love and adore (and read) a plethora of blogs because I love the people and don't care whether their husbands are E-1, a girlfriend of an aviator (hey!!), Chiefs, striving for STA-21, the wife of a Major, Sailor of the Year, ERBing out, or content with their OCONUS station. They're human beings who deserve the same respect no matter what type of insignia is on their collar.


I'm just curious if I'm alone in this sentiment. As an Officer's long-time domestic partner, I don't know how people feel about the generic Officer's attached ladies. I don't know if we're all thought of evil snatches. I don't know if I'm thought of as an exception since we're not married so I'm not "meal ticketing" it up. I don't know if people feel awkwardness commenting on my blog because of my 'status' - or if they feel like I'm going out of my way when I comment on theirs. Truth: I comment on blogs I love to read - I've said it a million times. When you bore me, I'll stop following. If you're hilarious and awesome, you've got me. And if you rig a giveaway so I'll win, I'll probably give you a kidney. And at least a cocktail. Oh yeah, I don't know if people take my alcoholic humor to heart. No, I don't need rehab. Yes, I love a good glass of wine after a rough day at work. But my habits only involve cocktails every other night or so. There's no IV of Stoli...yet. Talk to me during deployment.


Although I will be completely honest - I used to be a massive stick-up-my-ass ROTC girlfriend. I used to think Enlisted were not worthy. I used to think even the "Officer Candidates" were chump change because they didn't do ROTC in the first place. Because apparently a ROTC girlfriend knows EVERYTHING. Oh, silly, silly me. I can't regret those thoughts enough because I know they make me look like a mega snatch. Thankfully I've found wisdom in graduating, experiencing long distance, reuniting, coming to terms with Uncle Sam, enjoying Mr. Wookie's career, and the life I thought was sooo glamorous a mere 5 years ago. Although it never helps when the public persona of a Naval Officer pumps it up to be kitten whiskers and angel farts. In reality, it's no big deal.


If I had to 'rank' myself, it would still be noob. While we've been attached for 8+ years, mildly associated with the Navy for equal time, we've yet to experience "the suck." So until I can paint a stripe on my deployment board, I've yet to earn my salt. Although it might not be a good idea to make me salty. Because I might just ask for tequila to go with it. And of course, a lime wedge.

Randomocity.

Last night I gave myself a facial...because...well I felt like it and Mr. Wookie was busy "bouncing." Night flights that bore an NFO to tears as it's just practicing landing for pilots...and the NFO gets to play Words With Friends for hours. Not that he texts on the plane. No. That's not allowed.


*wink*


The pipes in our house have two temperatures. Scalding your mother-effin' knuckles off. And 'meh.'


Have I mentioned how awesome this Daylight Savings is? Oh, and have I mentioned how I'm barely waking up in time for work in the morning? But gosh golly this sunlight after work makes my day. I get to have a cocktail while the sun is still up. So now drinking alone isn't so depressing.


Sunday night I had enough of it. My beautiful laptop of 3 years finally has a battery lifespan of 10 minutes. On a good day. So yes, I practically stay tethered to the wall my entire blogging career (which right now my blogging career has been about as good as Sarah Palin's ability to be Vice President). Zing. The new battery is due into my lovely hands on Thursday - and I can't wait.


I still need to blog about my brush with death.


On tonight's menu are burgers - although we killed the potato salad from Sunday night's barbeque, so I guess I need to whip up another side dish to eat. And in this house potato salad is quite bland. I don't do onion, he doesn't do hard-boiled eggs. So it's basic potatoes, little mayo, good dollop of 'stard (that's mustard for the laymen), and the garnish of your choice. Bo-ring.


The dog will let you know when it's dinner time. Whine, whine, whine. Heaven forbid she skip a meal. It's not like she's starving in this parts. But the bitch earns an Oscar for her portrayal of "Bulldog, Neglected."


Can Mr. Wookie just be home yet?? It's quiet entertaining for the back door to be open, to hear the bloop-bloop of his Jeep, to hear the gate squeak open, and to see the dog scramble for traction on the hardwood floors before hitting the dirt running for the gate. Lest not forget the foaming at the mouth that there's a serial murder intruder all before she realizes it's just the big lug of flight suit who denies her access to sleeping on the bed with us. She really needs to learn her poker face better. You wait until after Mr. Wookie is on the boat, then you drool on his pillow.

alone in the kitchen with leftovers.

In the alert of a text, life can completely change. Life can go from preparing to send Mr. Wookie on the boat to "Boat cancelled." Screeeeech - whaaaaaaaaa?? They can just do that? Apparently they can. And so now I have a caveman to still be in the home when I was so excited to put my on my flannel sheets, sleep with Pooch, not shave my legs (oh wait, that's still the same), and enjoy wine at 7:00pm while the sun is STILL up.

Oh, Daylight Savings...I've missed you. It's depressing to have the sun go down before 6:00pm. This is the beginning to an epic summer season - there'll be hammock time, cocktail time, beach time, swimsuit time, Mr. Wookie time, travel time, work-up time, and camping time. There's nothing like a SoCal summer.

But tonight I was on my own for dinner, so I just fried up some leftover kabobs and threw them over some white rice. Boring white rice. A bowl of white rice that really has no value in the home minus stirfry and rice pudding. So I did just that. I ate some dinner, then I was Jonesing for some rice pudding.

Yes, some people think rice pudding is for those with dentures.

Trust me. It's not. It's delicious.

I grew up on this stuff. The Sheriff is known for delectable hot cereal and rice pudding fixin's. I learned to love all of these and routinely make them for myself. Because some mornings require a lil 'stick-to-your-ribs' breakfast good stuff without the timeframe that bacon takes in the oven (only heathens fry bacon!).

So tonight my stove enjoyed a 45-minute field trip to the land of leftover rice, raisins, and cinnamon.

 Oh, and my Nikon battery was low, so fabulous Android pictures is what you get!

Are you a hot cereal fan? Oatmeal or Malt-O-Meal? Or maybe Cream of Wheat? Syrup or brown sugar? Or perhaps cold milk on top?


Are you not a hot cereal fan? Have you tried converting? Do you know what you're missing?

What's your favorite way to flavor hot cereals??

wait, where's that hour of sleep? crap.

Thank you, Baby Sister, for the tag!! Now while I'm removing the eye boogers from my face thanks to the lost hour of sleep, you get to enjoy a Sunday of questions. What's this!??! Two days of blogging in a row? Is Mrs. Wookie back???? We'll see.....

1. What is your favorite piece of decor in your house?

It's cliche to say "Mr. Wookie" because I'm just being selfish wanting him home. How about my vat of wine corks???? They've taken dedication, tears, Uncle Sam, and are now spilling over the edge. I apparently need a bigger container. Shucks.

2. What TV show is a guilty pleasure for you?

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills - because doesn't everyone want millions and to publicly bash their ex-husband for his small penis and desire to wear women's lingerie???

3. What is your favorite restaurant?

I've got to go with Baby Sister - Red Robin is a staple (hello, petite Bonsai, no tomato, side salad w/ balsamic dressing....yes, we'll take a basket of fries early!).

But then I do love locally owned breakfast joints in my area where the biscuits resemble newborn heads. They're huge, don't require epidurals, and taste great with homemade strawberry jam.

4. If you could live in any other state, where would you choose?

If the Navy would let us = Oregon.

If we hated everyone and just wanted to get away = Montana.

If we just wait and see where our next PCS takes us = who knows?!?!?  The excitement!

5. What kind of car do you drive?

An electric blue Kia that you'd swear was owned by a teen Asian. It's like...bright blue. Can't miss it.

6. What is the thing you do that wastes the most amount of time in your day?

My 25-minute commute. It's terrible. I used to have a 6-minute commute in Oregon. That. was. bliss.

There's literally nothing you can do during a drive minus rock out to XM. But then people just look at me and my Oregon plates wondering what kind of drugs I'm on. Well...the kind where I don't commute more than 30 minutes because then my livelihood is questioned. Until I'm making 6 figures (which happens oh so much on an English degree), I don't commute more than that.

7. What is your favorite website right now?

TheFrisky.com - I dare you, waste some time on it!

8. Do you have any special talents?

I can.....umm.....I can cross the line with my humor and make people cringe??

9. What is your favorite feature about yourself?

I can lie with a straight face. :) So when it's really necessary, like a surprise, you never would have guessed.

10. How did you meet your significant other, if you have one?

Mr. Wookie dragged me back to his Dorm Cave in college. Okay, okay, it was I who called him. But who cares about semantics. I'm modern, he's modern. It works.

Now if I can only figure out how to get rid of him... ;)

11. What is your favorite color?

I'm having a grey phase lately - not too morbid (like black), but not too bright.

And because Baby Sister has a thing for extra questions that rock...

1. What is the first materialistic thing you would buy with 1 million dollars?

Shotgun response: A vacation for Mr. Wookie and I.

Sincere response: I'd pay off my parents home.

Actual response: Hire a legal team to keep the vultures away since long, lost family will always creep outta the woodworks for someone with money. I don't care about you. Get the eff away - go back to your drug habit.

California response: Our dream patio furniture. :)

2. What were you doing 5 years ago?

Ooooo....good question! I was...in college, enjoying every second of life. A term away from graduation with only 3 classes on my schedule. Mr. Wookie and I had returned from a roadtrip down to Napa and Sonoma to celebrate our 3rd anniversary together. Life was good.

3. Your last meal on Earth would be?

In 'N Out? Petite Bonsai, no tomato? PB 'n J? Now I'm just stumped...

4. What is something you would change about yourself?

I wouldn't be so crotchity. Sometimes I'm just a bitch and I don't care about anyone. But then, if I really do like you, I will go out of my way to help you. But for the little people...I'm just a snatch.

5. Is there a specific time you remember being extra mean to your siblings?

Umm....all the time. Don't you know how annoying siblings can be!?!?! Helloo....I have an older brother, I should know. Can I hang out with you and your friends. I'll promise to be quiet. Although, to be honest, I just wanted to watch them play videogames. And what do I do now with Mr. Wookie????? ....watch him play videogames.

And my sisters were equally annoying - there were 2 of them. Twice the annoying torture. Can I jump on your bed? Can I borrow something? Can I open the door and run away just to make you angry??? Yes, yes you can.

6. If you had your own reality show, what would people's reaction be?

"Wow - she needs to quit drinking/quit complaining/quit....(you enter in your own opinions).

7. What is your dream job?

Once, upon the brink of college graduation, I saw a job for a speech writer for a politician. How. awesome. would. that. be???? You're the brilliance behind the smooze! You're the silent PR team who dangles lyrical brilliance in front of a bunch of led sheep in hopes that the voters eye the prize.

But then they required an English degree AND an MBA...and I wasn't quite there on the Bachelor's yet.

8. What genre do you pin on Pinterest the most? Why?

Pinterest has definitely fallen off the list of importance, but during I definitely think it was the best Guide to Holiday Purchasing ever. My family knew exactly how to operate it and I was rewarded greatly!

9. If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

Eleanor Roosevelt. That woman was a badass.

10. Who would be the other 3 members in your Wolf-Pack?

Ooooo....I don't know!! Are we talking pedicures with my mom and sisters? Or drinking buddies thanks to Uncle Sam? Or my favorite coworkers in Virginia??