No one talked about cheese.

It's my policy not to talk about my job. It's generally better that way because most people do not understand my line of work. AT ALL. And that is why I so thoroughly enjoy being around those who do understand it.

Still, I was nervous about my trip to Oakland to spend a day in the office because what if the people didn't like me? What if it was totally different from what I was used to when I worked in the office in Virginia? What if I slipped and mentioned how I sometimes eat cheese on purpose accidentally? Worst of all, what if I couldn't find anything to wear?

Well, all of my worries were for naught, because my day was AMAZING. I loved my coworkers, and they loved me (and my outfit, which was totally cute and got compliments for matching the organization's logo). No one talked about cheese.

Plus, Jason got to come along and keep me company in my hotel room. It made up for all of those work trips he took without me before he reenlisted in the Navy.

Ok, so it totally didn't make up for the time he went to Jamaica without me. But it's a start.

The weekend's big excitement was buying three Rubbermaid trash barrels for our beverage container recycling. I even made labels for them today. Don't laugh--I take my recycling very seriously! Ask my mom, who used to have a corner of her garage in Michigan monopolized by recycling bins that we'd have to haul to the township drop spot whenever they filled up because there was no pickup. That was 5-10 years ago, though, so the trash company may do curbside service by now. When I moved to Virginia after college I brought most of my recyclables to work because there wasn't a bin at my apartment, but there was at the office (and Virginia doesn't do bottle refunds, boo).

Here in California, they recycle almost everything curbside (even little towns like Lemoore!), and the bottle return rules are different than other states (like Massachusetts and Michigan) that have bottle deposits. Instead of having in-store centers where you put the cans and bottles one by one into a machine that counts them by piece, Californians must take their beverage containers (including plastic water and juice bottles!) to stands (usually in grocery store parking lots) where they're weighed and you're paid accordingly. You can also do it by piece some places, if the workers can be bothered to count them.

Now that I have my lovely bins we'll be able to wait until the barrels are full to schlep them into town and receive our handsome reward for being eco-friendly (last time we got a whole $2.20). I had been throwing the empty beer bottles and pop cans into a plastic bag in the back seat of my car. This concerned Jason to no end, but I thought the clinking at stop signs was rather musical.

This afternoon I battled the ant hordes for a while (in anticipation of trash pickup tomorrow), shoveling loose dirt into the trash barrel so they have nowhere to live. I struck gold, taking out two nests of them along the front of the house. I also sealed up a crack in the wall inside the garage that they had been using in their to- and fro-ing. They still haven't dared come back into the house. I like to think that they fear me now.

moving bits and pieces

Here's Jason with his masterpiece--the washer and dryer that he hooked up all by himself!



Jacob has been busy, too. He's no Maru, but he tries.



The only thing Lola's busy with is being pretty.

ants and anniversaries

Things are coming along here. The basics are unpacked, but there are still boxes EVERYWHERE.

What is not everywhere, at least not anymore, are ants. The day after the movers brought our stuff in, I noticed ants in the kitchen--marching around the pantry, raiding the cat food, coming in by the sliding door and through two microscopic holes in the ceiling, and setting up shop IN MY BACKPACK.

Five bottles of Orange Guard, an ugly crying session, some super glue and a container of spackle later, I think we've kicked them out of the house. There are still giant nests of them all around outside, but at least they're not in the house. We already shoveled some of their nest dirt into the trash barrel, filling it to the top, and that was carted away this morning. I figure if there's nothing left for them to build homes out of, they'll move somewhere else where the dirt is plentiful. Right?

I hope so.

Otherwise, life is good. I like it here. It is by far the best place we have lived together, all things considered. And the cats are right at home, as you can see. I think once our belongings are fully unpacked and the pictures are hung, I might even love it.

Over the weekend we celebrated our third anniversary by attending a keg party thrown by Jason's boss. I enjoyed myself, actually, and had a good time socializing with his coworkers and their families. The only part I regret about it was drinking five Mike's Hard Lemonades. All that sugar made my teeth so sensitive that I could barely chew or brush my teeth. It is only just feeling better today. I'd like to say that I'll never do that again, but... I probably will do it again.

Later this week we're heading up to Oakland so I can spend a day working in an office--something I have not done since March 2007. I don't even know where my office clothes are packed. I guess I need to get on that. I'm training a new coworker and meeting a bunch I've never met before, including some bosses, so making a good impression is important.

Now I am off to brush my sore teeth with delicious non-cow water and sleep in my wonderful non-floor bed. That's progress!

A little preview

It's our house! Half of a duplex on the grounds of NAS Lemoore. See the palm tree in the background? Our new washer and dryer were delivered today, and the movers are coming to the fail apartment tomorrow morning to pre-pack. They'll be back on Monday to transfer everything.

I am very pleased with how everything looks. We have our own little fenced back yard and patio, a good-sized one car garage, a huge laundry/storage room, and another outdoor storage room off the patio. And... AND! We have a recycling bin with weekly pickup! The water doesn't taste like cows! We'll be able to keep all three cars in the garage/driveway! Jason's going to get a grill, and I'm going to plant some vegetables!

Should I make a Cribs episode like I did last time?

Some of my friends have already moved in:

How we blew $1000 on a Monday night

Well, on

booze
video games
a car

...a washer and dryer, naturally!

You guys, it was so exciting. I've never owned my own washer and dryer before! No more nasty laundry room with pissed-in dryers! No more quarters! No more randomly missing articles of clothing! No more setting the timer so I remember when to go change loads!

They're being delivered on Friday. But not to the fail apartment, oh no. The delivery will be to our much-anticipated base housing unit! We get our keys Friday morning and the movers will be here on Monday to transfer everything. Just six more nights here, and then no more mattress on the floor, no more cow water, no more digging through boxes to find my belongings!

...

I really hope base housing doesn't suck. (We've never seen the inside of a unit.)

It will be the ultimate gated community--armed guards! Fighter jets! Parachutes! Giant anchors randomly set out on grassy knolls!

(It is the Navy, after all. There's always an anchor.)

I dare my mother-in-law to find her way to our door now.

Don't worry, I snapped out of it.

Ok, so yesterday was not that much better than Thursday. The cats woke me up at 3:15 a.m. and I worked for 13 hours (on the same stupid thing I was working on Thursday)--so it was actually kind of worse. The only thing that made it not quite so bad was that there wasn't any diarrhea on the floor. Thank god it was Friday, because that at least gave me something to look forward to. Except that I ended up going to bed around 10:15 because I couldn't keep my eyes open. Thrilling!

Today, though, has been much better. The cats let me sleep in until 4:30 a.m. Wow, right? I'm so spoiled.

This afternoon I went to the mall and got my hair cut again. I decided that the wedge cut I'd been trying so hard to have just doesn't work for my hair--I could never get the back to look good, no matter what I did. And getting my hair done is always a mood-lifter, which I definitely needed. The style I got is one that I go back to time and time again, copying Reese Witherspoon in Sweet Home Alabama (now I just need to get her body).



After my haircut I wheedled Jason into taking me to Starbucks, so that was another good thing.

Overall, funk averted.

Today...

The cats woke me up at 4 a.m., I worked for twelve hours on the most idiotic thing ever, and I had to clean up puddles of cat diarrhea and urine that were tracked all over the apartment.

I am filled with frustration and resentment from a variety of sources.

I spend so much time taking care of others. Giving, giving, giving. When is someone going to take care of me?

How was your day?

Fail. Also, food.

All my bravado and decorating was for naught and my Red Wings lost the Stanley Cup. Boo, hiss, fail.

I've been consoling myself with foooooods. And crying myself to sleep (or not).

On Monday we had sushi at Toshiko (that was before things went downhill with the Wings, but whatever). I had seaweed salad, Agedashi tofu, an avocado roll, and a cucumber roll. I think I like seaweed more than I like desserts. I could eat seaweed every day. If we still lived near Minado, maybe I would. I hope there's all-you-can-eat seaweed in heaven.

The Wings lost game 6 on Tuesday. I have no idea what we had for dinner that day. I think I've blocked it from my mind due to the trauma.

On Wednesday I made Morningstar riblets, peas and carrots, and gnocchi and chickpeas with olive oil and garlic.

On Thursday I made Lightlife lemon pepper "chicken" strips, quinoa with Smart Balance and garlic (and parmesan cheese for Jason), tomato halves cut into flowers (I tried, anyway), and corn. I haven't done a cooking post in a while, I know. It's because I hate the kitchen in this poopy apartment. I'm hoping our kitchen in base housing will be a vast improvement.

On Friday I coerced Jason into bringing me home some Little Caesars pizza and Crazy Bread. The idea was to replicate the conditions under which I watched game 5. Superstitious? Yes. Delicious? Double yes. Too bad it didn't work. But I do still have half a pizza and a few slices of Crazy bread in the refrigerator, so there is that. If you've never had Little Caesars, you should try it. Their sauce is the best I have ever tasted. I can't even explain it.

The family that started Little Caesars also owns the Red Wings. I'm trying to keep my money in the family. The Ilitch family, that is.

Yesterday we busted out the Corvette and went on an adventure to Bakersfield so Jason could stake out some video game stores. Yeah, it was thrilling. But after that we got to have dinner. Jason, in typical man fashion, was all set to low-class it at Red Robin, but I was not going to let that happen. Instead, we consulted our friend the GPS and found the lovely Uricchio's Trattoria in downtown Bakersfield. I fail and didn't think to take any pictures, but it was a great atmosphere and the food was to die for. The drinks looked good, too, but we didn't spring for any this time. We did have dessert, though--Jason picked us out a piece of brownie cheesecake that they apparently bring in from a bakery in Beverly Hills. It was delicious--right up there with Cheesecake Factory. I had my leftover angel hair pomodoro for breakfast. Nom nom nom.

After that we came home and Jason played video games until 3:30 this morning. He's still sleeping now. I think it's time to go wake him up, yes?

Bliggity Blogs and Facey Spaces

The other night Jason said something to me about Facey Spaces and I couldn't stop laughing. The next day my sister called me to sing me songs from The Lion King tell me about her job interview, and I asked her if she had seen this commercial (below) and if she thought it was as funny as I think it is. As you may have expected, we are two of a kind.

See also: my mom and 13-year-old cousin recently joined Facebook. Everyone has a Facey Space these days (although I did delete the MySpace pages Jason and I had a while back... MySpace is a pit of suck).



I have a feeling that posting this to my bliggity blog is exactly what Denis Leary and his aliens want me to do.

Fail. Also, hockey!

Today I had the honor of being featured on the English Fail Blog for the idiocy I found at the grocery store: behold.

I'm watching hockey tonight. My call is Red Wings in six: Stanley stays in Detroit!

Look, I even decorated.

I know, I'm awesome.

I might even post a real entry someday, that's how awesome I am.

And thanks to everyone who commented on my recent kiddie musings. It's comforting to know that those of you who have kids still enjoy life. There may be hope for me yet!

Note: now with working comments!

It was brought to my attention that my comments weren't working on my previous entry. And that is because I fail and made a change that somehow disabled them. They should be working now, so please go back and weigh in if you are so inclined.

Thanks to Krystyn for alerting me!

To breed or not to breed, that is the question.

Yesterday evening we were unloading groceries from the car when our next door neighbor walked up with two itsy-bitsy little blond girls in tow. He introduced himself--he's in the Australian Air Force and is here until August for training. He said that his wife and daughters had just arrived for a month-long visit.

The girls are ADORABLE. They remind me of me and my sister when we were small, and appear to have a similar age gap. The older girl is five or so, and was wearing one of those Disney store Cinderella dresses. The younger is two or three. They had been down to the pond in the middle of our complex to see the ducks, and had come back to get some bread so the girls could feed them.

When I see lovely, well-behaved children like them, I think to myself that those are the kind of kids I would want, if we were to have kids. Most of the time, though, the children I see in public are so ill-behaved that I swear to myself that we are never reproducing. When we lived in Massachusetts, the kids we saw most often were Jason's nephews. I will simply say that the two of them do not inspire me to attempt motherhood.

I'm so torn on the subject. So ambivalent. I know that I have plenty of time left to have kids, so we're not sweating it. Jason is firmly in the "maybe someday, but not now" camp. It's nice to be on the same page in this regard. And so far both of our families have kept the "when are you going to have kids" badgering to a minimum. I'm the second youngest grandchild on my mom's side of the family (my sister is the youngest), so most of my cousins have already squeezed out kids. I'm the oldest grandchild on my dad's side, but my cousin is pregnant and has a stepson. And Jason's sister has two boys to keep his parents busy. I know my mother is anxious for grandbabies (and has names in mind), but now that my sister is engaged I am totally putting that on her. She, after all, definitely wants kids someday. We've mostly avoided the firing squad from both wings of the family thus far.

Actually, the people who are the most inappropriate about it are Navy people. When they find out that Jason is married, they always ask if we have kids (which is a fine question in and of itself). But when he says that we do not, they inevitably follow up with "why not?" I find this question offensive on multiple levels and if it were posed to me, I would feel compelled to respond rudely, because A) it's not your business, and B) why the hell do you HAVE kids?

There are so many things that we want to do and continue doing in our lives that do not accommodate children. For example, I can't imagine going to Six Flags with a child and still enjoying it. I can't imagine enjoying a lazy Sunday with children. I can't imagine having any sort of adult fun with a child around--and I am not ready to give up my adult fun. I am not ready to give up drinking swearing like a sailor's wife. I am not ready to give up the ability to hop in the Corvette and go wherever the road takes us. I am not ready to put myself second. I don't know if I ever will be.

There are plenty of bloggers around who are parents and seem to still enjoy such grownup pursuits. Frankly, I don't know how you ladies do it.

Maybe I was born without the "mothering" gene. I find the thought of being pregnant and giving birth utterly undesirable. Everything about having children sounds so inconvenient and annoying (far more so than having cats).

So I want to hear from you, readers, about your thoughts on children. Have them? Want them? Fear them? Hate them? I know my readership is a mixed bag, so some of you are in the same place in life as me, and some of you are already or are soon to be parents. Am I alone in my thinking? Am I completely normal? Will I ever stop being a self-absorbed cat lady who prefers booze to breastmilk? Are Ashlynne and Evelynne (numbers 72-75 here) in my future, or should I adopt of couple of rabbit sisters and use those names on them? Please, weigh in--I'd especially like to hear from new readers. If you've never commented before, now's the time!

For the moment, I enjoy my self-indulgent existence and rarely worrying about whether or not I am wearing pants, let alone whether or not my spawn is.

Doings

I have not died (yet). Nor have I been in a coma (as I previously suggested). But I have been recovering from the pimple of doom that took up residence on my chin. It never got the memo that I am 26 years old and no longer rent out space on my face.

In the time I've been gone, I have:

• Gone to Six Flags Magic Mountain twice.
• Made appearances at Saddle Ranch and the Universal City Hilton again. I enjoyed both of these even more than the first time. (There was debauchery, but I'm told that certain visitors to this blog don't want to read about that. Should we put it to a vote?)
• Been metal detector-wanded and frisked for concealed weapons (at Saddle Ranch).
• Found a veterinarian here and taken Jasper in for his introductory traumatizing physical. It cost half what it did in Massachusetts. My cat costs spreadsheet was so proud of me.
• Clogged the toilet with kitty litter so badly that it sent a geyser of poopy water pouring out onto the bathroom floor.
• Steam cleaned the bathroom, entryway, and kitchen floors--the latter two for good measure since they're near the former.
• Been deluged with angry e-mails about maple syrup. Seriously. My job is bizarre sometimes.
• Gone to Preferred Outlets in Tulare and spent a dollar amount equal to my weight at the Gap Outlet. I am a coupon master. I am also now in possession of enough clothing to dress for hot weather year-round. Moving to a different climate is expensive.

Good times.

Hypochondriac, much?

This weekend I decided that I have several health issues that are probably going to cause me to die.

It started when I sustained a blunt force trauma head injury yesterday morning.

You might recall the sob story of how our box spring will be leaning against the wall in the living room until we move out of our current apartment. Well, Jacob is still enamored with sitting on top of it. In fact, he is stretched out up there right now, fast asleep.

So yesterday, Jason and I were sitting on the couch. Jacob hopped his fuzzy butt up onto the box spring, causing it to tip away from the wall. The first obstacle it met on its way down was the back of my head. The wooden edge of the box spring whacked me so hard that I saw stars and couldn't think straight. Jacob, of course, just held on and enjoyed the ride, then sat there like nothing had happened. Jason was leaning forward when it tipped, so he only got bumped on the back. I was momentarily stunned, but my head quickly started to throb. The tears began flowing and I hid my face in Jason's lap. Being the sensitive man that he is, he told me that I was just upset from the shock of being so startled. Um, no, you douche, it's the pain from being WHACKED IN THE SKULL WITH A BOARD that's upsetting me.

So my first death is going to be due to my head injury. Like Natasha Richardson. I figure I'm lucky I even woke up this morning. If you don't hear from me for a few days, it's probably because I have fallen into a blunt force trauma-induced coma. Thanks, Jacob!

My second death is going to be from skin cancer. I was reading an article about it in an issue of Ladies' Home Journal, and there was an example picture of squamous cell carcinoma (shown here). I've decided that I have that on my arm. A doctor has told me before that this particular spot is fine, but I know better because LHJ says so.

My third death is going to be because I have cavities in my teeth. I've never had one before, but I might as well have some since I'm already dying.

In other news, it was 102 degrees here today. I probably have heatstroke, too.

24 years ago today...

...My little sissy appeared on the scene and became my best friend in the whole world.



HB, DJ Cake!

Love,

DJ Solo