Hermit Crabs Carry Their Homes Around...

... but we have to find one to live in and pay for it. Hermit crabs are so much smarter than people.
The movers come in a week and a half and we move in less than two weeks.

We're trying to be grown up and buy, but it's still expensive and we're so very new at this grown up thing. For instance, I called about a lovely house today, but it's in escrow... what does that mean? I don't really know... but it means I can't have it.This is us on Christmas morning. I gave Jon a kitchen utensil and he gave me Irish Cream... hmm...

We are discombobulated around here. We want someone else to find the perfect house at the perfect price that we'll make money off of when we move and have it move-in-ready in two weeks. Is that so much to ask?

*sigh*

On a positive note... WE'RE MOVING TO SAN DIEGO IN TWO WEEKS!!!! Oh. the. joy.

Birds Have Them...

...And so do Naval Aviators! Jon got his wings on Friday and we couldn't be happier. Oh the joy of anticipation satisfied!

I put the wings on crooked the first time, so we had to do a second official picture.

I punched them in, like a good military wife should.
I love this. Everyone looking straight ahead, except Jon, looking at me.

Soft Patch Ceremony
Adam & Anne came to the winging to cheer for the newly winged Aviator.

A La David Sedaris

Since I sincerely hope all four of you read this blog so that you can laugh at me, I wanted to share something that makes me laugh every time I read it. Open letters. Be sure to read the archived letters at the bottom, too. I aspire to this kind of joyful sarcasm. Merry Scroogish Christmas.

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/openletters/

Cream of Wheat is Disgusting

Today I tried an instant cream of wheat package that I got free. It was strawberries and cream flavor, so I thought it would be okay. Nope.

The first bite was a "meh". Which, as I should know by now, means that the rest would get worse and worse. Henry was begging for some. "You don't know it, but you don't want this," I told him, "You would say, 'why did you give that to me? what a bad owner to give me such awful stuff!'". He begged still and I took a second bite. It was definitely worse. In the ten seconds that I had taken to warn Henry, the consistency had passed bad and gone to toture worthy. I'm pretty sure cream of wheat will be the new weapon of evil dictators. Henry ran off and ran back again just in time for my third bite, which I put off to give him some. He liked it. He likes dead worms, too.

I started thinking about something else to distract myself so that I could choke it down. Milk. Milk was a good thought. Milk to wash down this icky sludgy meal that tasted like processed strawberry powder. Since those little instant packets are about the size of my thumb, there weren't many more bites, so I ate the rest. But I gagged on the last two bites. Full out gagged. I never gag. I love food. Cream of wheat must be made from the toenails of Nazi spies to induce such a reaction from me.

My mouth was pretty mad at me by this time. My mouth and I hate throwing up and gagging is awfully akin to throwing up, so I had to satiate myself with some milk. That helped. We're friends again, but its kind of conditional. No more cream of wheat.

If you like cream of wheat, feel free to comment, but I won't be swayed by your weedling to eat Nazi toenails. That's just gross.

This is How I Feel About... This Christmas

This will be the first of many officially titled "This is How I Feel About" posts. Not because you care, but because I do.

So this is how I feel about this upcoming Christmas (in fifteen (WHAT?) days).

The first thing I feel is annoyed. Who spends three Christmases in Pensacola? Three. Oh how I swore that I would not spend more than two. Oh how the Husband Aviator and I laughed at the ridiculous possibility of it all in our youth and naivety. Oh how the Navy will work so very hard to thwart your hopes and expectations. Oh. Ho. Ho.

The second thing I feel is a bit unmotivated, after this Fall. Let's review, shall we? New puppy who was not so good at the housebreaking, starting grad school full time, working part time, leading a study, having a Husband Aviator finishing advanced and not being able to get pregnant for the stinkin' life of me... and then finals. I passed the housebreaking the dog final, passed the part time work final, passed the study-leading final, passed three grad school finals so far and failed the baby-making final (again) with only an Epidemiology final to go till I collapse and say, "Please someone decorate my house for Christmas and bring me some damn eggnog."

Finally, I feel very grateful. For the following reasons: 1) I love Christmas and it got cold in Pensacola, so it really feels like late Fall (it never feels like winter in Pensacola, but I'll take what I can get). (2) Barnes and Nobles time with the Husband Aviator because I'm *almost* done with finals and he won't be busy for long because... (3) He is getting his wings next week! The Navy is done torturing him with pushed back wingings and the Hus is going to be all grown up next week. For which I am so proud and so grateful. Joy to the World, Let Jon receive his wings.

And also Joy to the World because the Lord is come, which is, admittedly more important, but I'm not one to pass up a pun if it has the potential to make me look clever.

Now I am going to go study diarrheal disease (I couldn't wait to tell you all that!) so that I can pass my final and refill the home with carbohydrates and mistletoe.

Merry Christmas.

Monday Night

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Laugh With Me

In watching a video on Montgomery County's (MD) new Minority Health Initiatives, I noticed the following statement:

ALL Asian Americans do not enjoy a high socioeconomic status, are not well educated, good at math and healthy.

Then they show a picture of a cute, well-dressed, put-together Asian girl.

... I happen to know a few Asian Americans who are well off, well educated, good at math and healthy... so maybe they're telling us that those who are, just don't enjoy these things... or maybe they are telling us the the makers of the video are not well educated... we may never know, but we can sure get a kick out of it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWeqvIlXxgc

It's Not You, It's Pensacola... Except When it's You...

I received the following email today:

Dear Rebekah,

Thank you for submitting your resume to HealthPort for consideration.

We are fortunate to have many qualified candidates apply to each of our positions. We have reviewed the qualifications of each candidate and after careful consideration, we have determined that the credentials of other candidates may better fit our needs at this time.

Please accept our best wishes and thank your for your interest in HealthPort.

Cordially,
Human Resources
HealthPort


I do not remember applying to this company, which means it was in my last round of "I-can't-get-a-job panic" applications. Which was well over a year ago. Over a year, folks.

I've realized that long-delayed rejection isn't so bad. In fact, it makes me feel better about myself that this company is that disorganized. "Hah," I say to myself, "I may not have a big girl job, but I sure am more organized than that! They couldn't even handle my put-togetherness."

So I'll just put on my pencil skirt and pantyhose and make dinner tonight. Barefoot, un-employed and in the (well-organized) kitchen. Boo-ya!

Maybe Next Year...

Agents Butterlicious

The Aviator and I got a gun. We are working on our secret-agent-married-to-another-secret-agent status, so we've decided to get concealed carry licenses. We figure we can conceal it like this:

... or like this:

I think this would be most comfortable:
What do you think?




Henry can't be a secret agent until he's older. He has no place to conceal a weapon.

Huh.

I keep thinking, "Gosh. I need to update that blog. I haven't posted anything in ages." To which the other part of my brain (not angel/devil style, just guilt trip/procrastination style) says, "Why? Nothing new is going on with you that would make for an interesting blog post."

Without further narrating, you know which side I most listen to.

In the meantime, here is the routine in to which the Hus, Yellow and I have fallen:

1. Henry does not take up as much time now that he is potty trained and enjoys self-amusement with chewing on things he isn't allowed to chew on.
2. I get more done, but always feel as though I should be studying or cleaning or something
3. Jon is done with all his flights, but the Navy won't let him wing yet, because he didn't pass the height/weight part of the PRT, which seems like a silly reason to cancel one's winging a week before one's entire family is to fly in, causing them to lose money on tickets and plans (plans, not planes) to crash, mid-air and one Aviator and wife in particular to become depressed and wish they could just move from this place already.
4. But the Aviator persists and is significantly ready to rope and choke with great success.
5. The wife is working on attitude issues with the Navy. We are seeing progress.
6. Despite progress, the Navy has decided that there shall be no more wingings until almost Christmas, which means, perhaps, no Virginia Christmas.
7. HOWEVER, as attitude issues are under control, the wife and the Aviator are enjoying the time they can spend together and with small Yellow (who still steals shoes and socks to chew) and have taken up running together (collective gasp from those that know wife) and the Nazi... I mean the Aviator is whipping wife. Into shape.
8. To add to the character-building, Azaleas are blooming in this tropically-God-forsaken locale and no 50-degree weather is in sight. Christmas music is played loudly to make up for the above.
9. Wife seems to be improving on her test-taking abilities, which is a result of desperate prayer and which also makes up for the Azaleas.


We love you, friends. Fear not. Come December 4th (and the conclusion of classes), I will write more, because I will have done more than study and eat and take small Yellow out to pee.

Cheer Up-date

Dad running Henry up and down the beach

We may not have had a winging this week, but we still got my dad to come down and play. Henry benefited from the visit almost as much as the Husband and I did. Plus, Dad gave Henry lots of compliments on his well-behavedness, which pleased us very much, since we like it when people say nice things about us. The brother also came out from his side of the Emerald Coast and played, too.

Life is good and never boring.

Nope, still can't leave the toilet paper on the roll...

Henry dressed up as a Golden Retriever for Halloween.

We Need a Little of This Today

He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater,

He sendeth more strength as our labors increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials He multiplies peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.

Fear not that thy need shall exceed His provision,
Our God ever yearns His resources to share;
Lean hard on the arm everlasting, availing;
The Father both thee and thy load will upbear.

His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.

"He Giveth More Grace" by Annie J. Flint

NEWS BULLETIN

By the way. Jon is done with all of his flights. He wings next week. For these things, we are grateful:

1. That he has no more flights in flightschool.
2. That we will soon move.
3. That WE. MADE. IT.

I am very very proud of my husband. He's amazing at stuff.

I Pray for the Yankees to Win the World Series

As per Mom's request, here are pictures of Finnegan. He got big.

Blue collar dog.

He likes to sleep on his new bed:
And under the table like this:This is what he looks like when he's not asleep.

Surprise Wedding Reception

Quote of the Day

Jon, earlier today:

If I was an amateur bomb-maker and I accidentally blew up my hand and only had two fingers remaining... I would still be able to count the number of flights I have left!... You should put that on your blog.


Hurray for the Husband and HURRAY for being so close to done!

When it Gets Below 80 Degrees

When it gets below 80 degrees in Pensacola, then it's called Fall and the pumpkins begin to appear on street corners and in grocery stores. Since I disagree that the presence of imported pumpkins is sufficient to indicate season change, I have been subconsciously waiting. Then it got colder. That helped. Then I decided to make an apple pie. That helped too. Then, in one moment, when the smell of the cinnamony appley pie filled the apartment and Jon opened the door to let in a rush of cool air, it was really Fall and my hot weather depression lifted. It's incredible what a little Fall can do for a Virginia girl. So in light of my happiness, I'm going to share with you my new favorite apple pie recipe. Please enjoy.

French Apple Pie

Crumb Topping
1/2 C unsalted butter
1/2 C packed brown sugar
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/2 wheat germ (so worth it!)

Filling
7 cups Granny Smith Apples (I used three big apples)
3/4 C sugar
1 Tbl cornstarch (or flour)
1/2 tsp cinnamon (I used more like a whole teaspoon)
1/2 tsp nutmeg (see above)
pinch of salt
1 1/2 Tbl butter cut into cubes

1. Prepare pie crust (oh yeah, I made my own, but you could use a refrigerated one. I would share my recipe, but it wasn't all that great. Find a good one online.) So if you make the pie crust, refrigerate at least an hour. After it has chilled, preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

2. In the bowl of a food processor (I just mixed it in a bowl with a pastry cutter) add all ingredients for crumb topping and pulse about 10 times until the mixture is crumbly. Roll out dough and place in 9 inch pie pan. Crimp the edges with a fork. (If the dough has chilled for a long time and is too hard, let sit on the counter until soft enough to roll out)

3. In large mixing bowl, whisk together the sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt until thoroughly mixed, then toss with apple slices. Mound apples high in the center of pie and dollop with butter pieces. Cover crust edges with aluminum foil to keep from burning.

4. Sprinkle on crumb topping (YUM!) and press down slightly. Bake pie for about 50 minutes, but check progress at 45 minutes. When crust and crumble top are golden, pie is done. Let cool 30 minutes (if you can!). Serve warm with ice cream or whipped cream.


Now, in the spirit of baking, check out this site... isn't it cool?

P.S. the picture up there is not of my pie. I found it online. My pie was not baked in aluminum. And it tasted better.

Bunch of Good Lookin' People

I love this

I have posted 123 Times, and This is Number 124

Jon only has 5 more flights and in three weeks, we find out where we're going to move.... Ooooh the excitement!

Oh, Please, Won't You Irradiate My Produce?

This is what I think, and I'm right, so do follow my lead.
Irradiation is good.
Pitching a fit about irradiated food is bad.

This is why:

Irradiation kills BAD bacterias that want to give us all food poisoning (Believe me, I hate food poisoning). No radiation remains in the produce after it has been treated, so we shall not all glow after consumption of said produce. Radiation does inactivate a small amount of the nutritional value* in treated beef, but diarrhea and vomiting eliminate ALL the nutritional value. So. Also, I do not like pesticides in my food (I am pro-organic foods), but I do not like buggies in my salad, so I am pro-irradiation. Stop whining, Hippies.

Ahem. So that is what I think. A little dose of haughty opinion to brighten your day and make you less sorry for when I post pictures without words.


* sources:
http://ag.ansc.purdue.edu/meat_quality/irradiation.html
http://www.citizen.org/cmep/foodsafety/food_irrad/articles.cfm?ID=11803 (I do not agree with this website, but site it so that you can see my arguement wins)
http://www.fda.gov/ForConsumers/ConsumerUpdates/ucm093651.htm

NOTE: The intentional obnoxious tone of this post was designed to be funny. Please do not take offense, as I certainly do not mean to offend.

There may be nothing new with me, but there are always pictures of my dog...

Dogs are Just Like Their Owners

He fell asleep with his head in his food bowl. Just in case food decided to show up while he was passed out.

Never in the history of my egocentric blog have I been so remiss in posting at least something every so often. Not that I am apologizing. I don't feel that anyone is deprived of joy by less of me making fun of myself, but I do feel as though I should tell you why you are often confronted with the same bland post every time you check up on me.

It's because of this:
And this:
...and this:
... plus Jon and I got food poisoning somewhere in there and barfed our guts out all night, but you didn't want to see a picture of that...

So in between working, studying and trying to teach a stubborn, chewing Labrador that going potty outside is always (and not just sometimes) the best policy, I will write more. If I'm not sleeping.

I do read your blogs, though. So don't be one of those lazy people who get busy and only post every so often. That's lame.

I'm Going to be a Cowgirl When I Grow Up

It was dark in the bedroom and it had been quiet for a long time. He figured he was safe and took a couple tentative steps. When all looked clear, he ran a little further and stopped to look around. Darn. He had miscalculated. She had seen him. She registered shock at first, then anger. She reached for something hard and heavy. He remained still, hoping to become invisible. Too late, he realized his doom as crash came the side of the circular saw blade on his body.
Stillness. Maybe if she thought he was dead - if she thought she had won, he could wait until she left to run away. His body hurt. He wanted to be back at home, out of this exposed light. She came at him again with the blade. This time, he ran for it, up under the corner of the sheet that was hanging to the floor. She gasped, "Not my sheets!" and shook them - and him- out. He ran. More attack from the blade, and finally back under the dresser from which he had come and again paused, trying futilely to blend into the shadowy darkness. Lights. Footsteps away, then coming back from the other room. A large oval face looking in his hideout. Then he saw it - the Lysol spray bottle. It was aimed directly for him. His stillness now wasn't due to trickery, but fear. A stream of yellow liquid. Pain. He ran, blindly. More sprays of liquid followed his path. He ran, desperate to get away...

And that's when I couldn't find the darn palmetto bug anymore. So here I sit, Lysol at hand, computer in lap, waiting. I dare him to show his nasty, dirty face near my 450 thread count, Italian pima cotton again... I'll be waiting.

Obsessed?

Our dog is so smart.

We also took him to the beach for the first time.

Welcome Home, Hank!

Henry is finally home.As Dad predicted, Henry has already stolen a sock to chew on. It was promptly removed after the picture.Matt and Ann, he loves his present... look at those fierce eyes!
When he eats, he puts his paws in the bowl with his head. It's easier to scarf his food that way.

Things I've Learned Since I've Grown Up

Coffee
Real conversation: Jon begins fishing in his coffee, Me: "What's in there?" Jon: "A fly.... I think this is a good way to catch 'em"
Lesson: coffee left out catches bugs. Double gross.


Multivitamins.
They make bad food good. A multivitamin may be mixed with a brownie to cancel out the "empty calories".
Lesson: you can BS healthy living. Also, they turn your pee neon colors. Interesting.


...and one I've learned today:
Apartment Living
When you hear a flatulent noise while in the bathroom, do not assume it is your husband in the other room and thus yell out, "HEY!" very loudly. It may turn out that your husband had nothing to do with the noise. In which case, one of your neighbors, perhaps upstairs, thinking they were alone, let out some gas, only to hear a small voice from downstairs yell, "HEY!" as though offended. Embarrassing.

It's Not the Eighties Anymore, Cashierwoman. Get a New Haircut.

It has not been a good day so far. Firstly it is raining. Secondly, I had to go out IN the rain.

The only reason I was going out (to base) was to pick up a prescription and get some good deals on that Naked juice coupon I mentioned a while back. The line at the pharmacy had almost an hour wait, so I skipped it. I did, however, go to the commissary and purchase 21 Naked fruit juices. I had 21 coupons for a dollar off. I should have saved 21 dollars at the checkout. DID I? NO. WHY? Because Blue Eyeliner Hair Puff Woman wouldn't take them. Said they were fraudulent. Which, by the way, is NOT true. So an entire 2 hour trip wasted.

Also I had eaten nothing all morning and so I was very very angry. Then I saw a cop put on his lights on the way home and thought he was after me. He wasn't, but it was still an obnoxious rush of adrenaline.

So to make myself feel better, I drank the first of the TWENTY ONE Naked juices I paid for and made a turkey pot pie. For breakfast.

I also found a spider in the sink, which I promptly washed down. I turned on the disposal for good measure. It was therapeutic.

Oh, Henry!

New pictures from the breeder. I can't believe we get to have him in less than two weeks. Isn't he the cutest little piece of angel food cake you've ever seen?
Unfortunately some of the pictures included this shirtless boy, but Henry was so cute, I had to include them.
He is officially, "Oh Henry", but let your mind conjure images of O. Henry as well. He has the same blocky head as our little guy, so he must be English. Plus he wrote The Gift of the Magi, one of the best short stories of all time.
I love him. I'm pretty sure he can't wait to come home and chew up all of our stuff.

Yay!

Clearly I'm Quite Busy

I was trying to slow down a fly today to catch him and release him outside (because I'm all caring about nature and stuff), but when I sprayed him with Lysol, not only did I disinfect him, but I made him shrivel and die, as well.

Oh well. One does try.

Such is Life

The "What will you do with a drunken sailor..." ring on my cell phone went off and I ran to answer it. The man to whom I am married was just calling to say he was on his way home. He had been canceled for weather.... again. I chatted and walked into the bathroom. I looked up into the mirror and gasped. There, on the very tip of my nose, was the hugest white zit I had ever seen. I must have been walking around all day like this. I thought of the nurses, the patients in the waiting room, the doctors, the cashiers. Hundreds. I must have been looked at by hundreds of people today. All the embarrassment of the gynecology visit held nothing on this.

Then I looked closer. It was just cheese from my melted cheddar sandwich.

Oh. Okay.

I Refrain From Comment

I just want to know what everyone thinks of this. I mean, really. I want to know. Comment, please and tell me how this is okay.

It would seem that the government has since amended this "error" after a stream of unhappy calls, etc. There may be a lot of stupid people out there, but at least we're not THAT stupid.

If I Were to Marry Jon a Second Time...

If I were to marry the sweet Scuz again, then I would use Megan Daubert Events to plan and coordinate my wedding. For those of you who have not already walked down the aisle and promised to love through good, the bad and the dirty dishes, I cannot recommend this event planner highly enough. Megan is professional, has great vendor relationships, is conveniently located in the Northern Virginia-D.C. area and has exquisite taste.
Every wedding she has planned looks good enough to be in a magazine. Don't you ADORE these place cards? I love the birds by the names:
A note on wedding coordinators:

I didn't think I needed one. I had time, I told myself, I could handle everything.

No. Wrong. Redo. I ended up hiring someone at the last minute to help. It's virtually impossible to have a stress-free planning time and wedding day if you don't have someone else taking care of details and answering questions and calling the florist who needs directions, etcetera. Who wants to have a stressful engagement and wedding day? I once attended a wedding where the bride and groom ran the reception, playing the playlist, encouraging people to dance, acting as MC. It was terrible. They looked pained and stressed the whole time and did not get to enjoy their own wedding.

Refuse to ruin your wedding.

Therefore, if you are fortunate enough to require a wedding/event planner, you now know to call Megan. Not only do you need a coordinator, you need Megan. Check out her website here.

The Beach and Bordeaux and Sometimes a Navel Orange

My wonderful parents, along with Dinah (left) and Nellie (right) came to visit us last week. I adore my family and it was delightful to have my parents all to myself. We went to the beach (with the dogs... which is why they're passed out), helped the broseph move in to his apartment and helped him buy a new washer and dryer and table & chairs.

Now. I have a washer and dryer which are quite sufficient, so let it be known that I am content. Bearing that in mind, I have developed a large crush on my brother's new washer. It's beautiful. It's energy efficient. It's a front loader. IT'S A FRONT LOADER. Which means this: I can sit and watch my clothes get clean.

Question: What is better than cleaning?
Answer: Watching a machine clean FOR you.
This picture is the father, the broseph and myself, drinking bordeaux and watching the sudsy clothes in the washer go 'round and 'round. It's better than cable.
That was last week. This is this morning:

I live in Florida, but the oranges in the produce aisle are from South Africa. What?
But the nice things that come with that are bragging rights. "No," I may reply to a question, "I have not been to Africa. But I have eaten African Navel Oranges."

Take that.