Digging my garden...and casa nueva.

Our home before.... (brace yourself)

Bedroom. Seriously 

What will be my sitting / craft room

Such a disaster! 

At least the TV works!

AFTER!

Just a little peek of the downstairs for now- upstairs is still in shambles until our dressers arrive and are utilized. Enjoy! 

First house!

:)

Handmade wreath on our front door! (by me) 

Entry 

Front door inside

Hallway to guest room and man cave 

Garage entry

Sweet Basil

Cilantro, Sweet Basil, Rosemary, Spicy Basil, and Chives

Gonna taste so good!

Oh, and living a block away from the beach isn't too shabby either :) Thank you, Uncle Sam!

Ben paddling out

This is nice!

My handsome surfer!

View of the Channel Islands...from my blanket.

Hair this!!!!!!

Well, today was my last hair appointment at my salon here in Virginia.  I was a little sad as I waltzed out, doing the obligatory 'hair flip' as I put on my shades and headed to the car.  After 2 and a half years, my girl Ashley has helped me go from weedwhacker victim to proper lady with big southern hair!  I'm going to miss her...

Pre-Ashley's Magic:

OCS was not a kind place for girls...

Muffin hair is sexy! hahahaha

Post Ashley's Magic...

Pre-Deployment

Pause for Bahrain tragedy...

HOLY F...I had bags and flippy things.

Thank goodness, it grew and I recovered in time for Greece!

Ahhhh....Ashley rescued me!

Hello America! My hair is BACK!

She even cut Ben's hair a few times! (sorry babe)

YAY! Normal, big, long hair!

...In short, many thanks to my fabulous hairstylist Ashley :)  I will miss her mad skillz and friendship dearly. If anyone in Norfolk / VA Beach is stylist shopping, go to Twist Salon. They are fabulous!

Things A Girl NEVER Wants To Hear from a Nail Tech

Being a girlie girl, maintaining my nails and toes is imperative. I love to have my little tootsies scrubbed and polished every few weeks. For that 1 hour, I can relax in a massaging chair and the toughest decision I make is "wha cola i wan". Recently, I had the pleasure of enjoying a little self pampering in my new neighborhood. Nervous to try a new nail salon, I decided to braved a Mall Salon. This saved me a 30 minute drive to the little suite I frequented bi-monthly in my last neighborhood. By the time I left, I felt like I needed to go scrub my entire body with clorox bleach just to remove the filth I felt. Ironically enough, it wasn't from unclean tools or a dirty salon. It was from the nail tech.

I opted for a new set of french tips on my digits, and postponed a pedicure until I observed how this new-to-me salon operated. Smartest decision ever. A chubby little Asian man who called himself 'Mike' sat down and asked how he could help me. Apparently, patiently sitting at his manicure station didn't make it obvious enough that I was there for a nail treatment. Did he think I got lost on the way to Starbucks or something? I politely explained I was in need of a new set, as most of my acrylics were on their last dying hope of staying attached to my fingernails. Then I clarified exactly how I wanted the new set to look and shape I preferred my nails to be filed into. At this point he should have known I was a serious gal when it comes to a well groomed hand on a lady. Instead, he commented that perhaps I'd like them filed into points so I could really scratch up my boyfriend during sex... Yep. He actually said that.

Me luv u long time

I changed the subject immediately and asked if he'd seen any good movies lately. Perhaps affording him another opportunity to NOT taste his own feet. The effort was pointless. The topic of animals came up and I asked him if he liked cats. He said "No. I hate them and kick them when they come near me. But I do love p****." He was serious. The discomfort level was rising higher than the 4" wedge sandals I had on. Then he commented on how much he loves spring because women dress sexier, showing more skin and he loves to look. Sitting there in my brand new, flowery strapless sundress suddenly left me feeling like I was in my underwear. God knows what he was imagining me [not] wearing as he worked on my nails.

Again, I changed the subject. "Do you have a family?" He answered "Yes". When I asked how many children he had, he said he didn't know and that none of them lived with him. They were with his grandparents and they don't miss him because they don't like him. Shocker! By this time he was finishing up and my nails looked FANTASTIC! As I was paying him, and he actually had the nerve to write his personal # on a business card from the counter and hand it to me. Really, dude? You just met me and used the "P-word", you actually kick cats, and don't seem to know [or want to admit] how many children you have. If it was up to us to repopulate the earth, the human species would die with me because I'd use my "claws" you so-carefully-filed to rip you to pieces. That way I could die alone. NOT covered in shame and disgust.


Serious Note: This nail salon is located at the McArthur Center in downtown Norfolk. There are two of them there. NEVER go to either. Ever.

Pet Peeves

1. Being asked "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" or "How are you still single?" Seriously. It's annoying.
2. Bad manners.
3. Long hair on men. Unless you're Fabio, just don't do it.
4. Socks with sandals.
5. Constant tardiness.
6. People who wear the price tag on the outside of their clothes. Seriously? I don't give a sh** what you paid. You still look stupid.
7. "One Uppers". People that always have to top your latest story...yeah. They suck.
8. Fat children; Chubby is one thing- but obese and waddling around the playground? Shy of it being a medical condition, I think it's literally borderline child abuse. And it's sad.
9. Couples who claim they never fight.(see #13.)
10. Hot men with ugly women.
11. Hot women with ugly men.
12. Baby girls dressed in hideous poofy pink outfits. Taffeta skirts are NOT for girls under 3 or over 16.
13. Liars.
14. Cheaters.
15. Being rude to the wait staff at restaurants.
16. Phone calls from men after 10pm that are not expected or a dire emergency.
17. Girls who wear heels they can't walk in.
18. Guys who try too hard.
19. Being called "sweetie" by a waiter or waitress. "That one actually conjures up a little pang of anger anytime I even think about it."
20. Dumb Sluts (referred in posts as DS.)
21. Guys who act as though they're way cooler than me. Also known as "Bro's"
22. Name droppers. Usually those folks are guilty of #7.
23. Animal abuse. (This is not meant to be funny. I'm literally repulsed by it and those who do it.)
24. Getting ignored by female bartenders. (Bitchy attitude = NO TIP)
25. Bad customer service.
26. People who hate America.
27. People who hate the military.
28. Faith Fanatics (FF).
29. A dirty bathroom.
30. Women (or men) who apply makeup while driving. That's scarier than texting In My Fabulous Opinion (IMFO).

31. Panty Lines (PL's).
32. White shoes BEFORE Memorial Day and AFTER Labor Day. (Being southern- this is ESPECIALLY frustrating since 90% of women just completely dismiss this fact. They just think "Warm weather = white shoes". NO! )

3 Days Before Christmas

My first hour back in the United States was glorious. After spending over 1/2 a year overseas, I learned to appreciate the smaller, more simple things about life. For example- 3 ply toilet paper, orange juice at any moment in the day, Dunkin Donuts coffee, alcohol, something other-than-chicken for every meal...you get my jist. I was excited beyond words as I walked down the brow in a complete daze, leaving the ship far behind me. Had there not been a crowd of hundreds of families, plus several news cameras, I probably would have done a little dance mixed in with obscene hand gestures. However, I maintained my bearing and simply walked down the pier towards the parking lot. As I walked, all these people were smiling, crying, wildly waving their marker and glitter covered posters, waving little American flags, and shouting "thank you!" and "welcome home!" It was surreal. At some point before I got to the end of the pier, I started to have an out of body experience. I turned and looked up at the ship, my home for last year, and felt like I was doing something wrong by leaving. however...since my 'give-a-shit' fell overboard back in May, I just kept walking. That brief flash of guilt was washed away knowing I would be in my cozy apartment in less than an hour.
What I was not ready for was the stellar event that was coming at me- my first trip to McDonalds since April. Ok, let's rephrase that. I was ready- but McDonalds was not. After discovering that my phone would call anyone OTHER than my ride home, I borrowed a phone and told him to meet me at McDonalds. I cheerfully repositioned my belongings and began my victory march toward those golden arches. Through the parkinglot I strode, briskly weaving in between cars, beaming my plastered-on-smile. As I walked up the steps, I could almost smell the coffee and taste the biscuits. I went in, dropped my things, and got in line. Much to my horror, the cashier flipped the menu and announced that breakfast was over. No juice, no buttery biscuits with eggs and cheese, no hashbrowns in a grease soaked wrapper. Suffice to say, I was crushed. Quickly, I thought that I'd be ok with a burger, fries, and coke. At least it wasn't chicken. Another line opened up, and I stepped over to place my order for a high-calorie-yet-much-missed-American staple meal. Unfortunately an older, round couple made it to the counter first. Yes, they were round and clearly fast food was a staple of their large existence. No big deal, or so I thought. My dreams of a quick snack while waiting were slowly destroyed as the woman placed an order for at least 10 meals, all with specific instructions that resembled Meg Ryan's character out of "When Harry Met Sally". During that time, as my rage built up, I realized that McDonalds was out of soda and only had blue powerade and water to drink. Blue powerade will never enter my body again. Not after a 12 week diet of it at one point in my life. This was it. Before I screamed at the woman and ordered her into the galley to make the fucking food herself, I walked away. I had to. My rage was about to spill over and she would be the lucky recipient of a bountiful helping. I gave up and just stifled my hunger induced rage to go sit down and wait for the roommate. We will now refer to him as RM. Finally he showed up and the one thing that salvaged my day was not the sight of someone familiar, it was driving his brand spanking new Mercedes complete with seat heaters all the way home.
Yay America!