Interview

Job search continues. But today I have an interview. I am very excited!

The Commissary

After six weeks here in this active duty life, I finally went to the commissary. I know, I'm slow.

Here's what happened. Yesterday, I went to another Cav Canyon Spouses' Club luncheon and then stopped by Jack Bauer's office for a few minutes, 'cause I could. On my way home, I needed to stop by the grocery store for four items: Crack Coke Zero, yogurt, frozen veggies for Moo dog, and fresh sage. Jack suggested I go to the commissary just down the street from his office. I would need to pass by it on my way off post anyway.

After making a few faces of hestitation, I ran through all my excuses not to. I was already on post. It was not payday. It was not close to payday. And it was just after noon. I could always go in and then turn around leave if it was too busy. (But I got to say, the local grocery store we frequent is always insanely busy, too, so "too busy" as an excuse doesn't hold much water here.)

So I went. The parking lot wasn't overflowing. Good sign. I was warmly greeted by some man in the parking lot pushing a cart. "Must be one of those guys I gotta tip," I thought.

While I do like to think I am of above average intelligence, this exercise may have proved otherwise. First, I had trouble finding my way inside. There were many doors, not all of which opened automatically as I approached. Once inside, I couldn't find a central cart area, but luckily there were a bunch of carts haphazardly pushed aisde, tucked into corners, and what have you. I took one hoping that I wasn't taking someone else's cart when they stepped away early in the shopping experience when a hot deal was spotted three aisles over.

Anyway, cart acquired, I pushed on. The Coke Zero immediately jumped into the cart. An easy find. One of the first areas I came to had the all-natural/organic shampoos, conditioners, lotions, deodorants, etc. That was a surprise. Some of the products there are ones that we use already. Might have to check that out further.

Then onto the produce area. A reasonable selection and variety of products. I hate to admit it, but I am not one of these people who can tell you the price of items right off the top of my head. I don't know how much I pay for bananas at the local grocery store, I don't know how much a gallon of milk costs (I have no need for a gallon of milk), and I couldn't tell you what a basic loaf of bread costs (I have a thing for the really good, fresh baked bread that costs at least $3.50 a loaf and can easily disappear in an evening). I do know what limes cost though. The cheapest I have seen limes on the free market in the last several years is $.25 a lime. At the commissary? $.21 each. Good deal. So while not on my list, I did add four limes to my cart.

I toodled around the produce area some more looking for fresh herbs. Just about when I was about ready to give up and ask the stocker, I saw she was standing right in front of all the packets of fresh rosemary, thyme, mint, chives, basil, and yes, sage. I was thinking if there was one thing on my list I couldn't find, it would be fresh sage. That showed me.

Produce conquered and two items crossed off my list, I moved on. I was in a bit of a hurry so I didn't peruse every aisle. I barely glanced at the extensive meat counter and completely ignored the aisles in the middle. I headed straight for the yogurt. We've been eating Yoplait Light for breakfast, and I needed to get a few more for Jack in flavors he likes. Unlike the grocery store on Sunday afternoon, I found the selection at the commissary to be extensive and well stocked. And at $.50 each, a deal (as opposed to $.69 on super sale). So instead of getting three to get through the rest of the week, I bought 20. I think we're good on yogurt for a few days. And another item was crossed off the list.

Onto the frozen veggies. Here, my expectations were still super low. I was expecting, if I were lucky, to find some frozen carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower mixes. Yeah, I found those, but I also found frozen asparagus, shelled edamame, and frozen sweet potatoes. I picked up Moo's favorites of edamame, aspargus, and broccoli. Spoiled girl.

All the items, plus a few limes, collected, so time for the line. Jack had been into the commissary recently for some something and said the line was so long that he turned around a left. I was expecting some time waiting in line as well. I was wrong. There was no line. I walked straight to the cashier, emptied my items, and paid all in about one minute. Nice.

I had heard, from you all, that the bagger takes your bags out to your car and then you tip him/her. So before I shoved my wallet back into my purse, I grabbed a few ones (miracle that I had any cash whatsoever). A quiet Asian woman helped me out to the car with my three plastic bags and soda refrigerator pack. I spent $33.19. How much would you tip? I gave $3 and thought I would check with you.

So there is the story of BW's first trip to the commissary. And I might even go back.

Live from Cav Canyon, It's BW!

We have arrived safely in the town that is our new home. It has been quite a long time since I have been on an Army post. And even then it was just for a few hours. I really don't have much exposure to life on post. I guess I am about to get a big dose of it.

We're in temporary lodging within walking distance of the PX and Jack Bauer's office. That's pretty cool. It has been about 10 years since I last stepped foot in a PX. But I already discovered the benefit: no tax. How cool is that?

I figured out fairly quickly that there are several items that I will need to invest in living here:

1. lotion
2. eye drops
3. claritin
4. cough drops
5. decongestants
6. a ton of bottled water
7. sunscreen
8. dark sunglasses
   

I am soooo dry and allergy-ridden already, my head may explode. Good way to start our stay here. But it is just beautiful so that makes up for the suffering.


The doggies are enjoying trying to catch crickets. Not sure if they have ever seen crickets in this quantity before.

Off to find a more permanent place to live. Have a great day.

Reception AAR

Time for an after action review of yesterday's spouses luncheon and Blues Reception.

The luncheon is lovely. I meet some very nice ladies who came in for the yesterday's events. Food and conversation are good. One experienced wife suggests getting gel inserts for the dressy heels since we will be standing literally for hours.

The ladies in charge do an impromptu demonstration of the receiving line. The servicemember introduces himself and his wife to the adjutant, but does not shake his hand. The adjutant introduces the servicemember and wife to the general, who introduces his own wife. Now the demonstration had the general's wife introducing the servicemember and wife to the next party in the receiving line, and so on and so forth. No problem. They remind us that the receiving line is not the place for a lengthy conversation. I leave the luncheon confident I can handle the receiving line.

(On the way back to the hotel, I stop off at the grocery store for gel inserts. The store is incredibly busy for a Friday early afternoon. There is hardly any place to park, and the otherwise very nice C-ville drivers are now grouchy. The students are coming back fast and furious this weekend. School starts on Tuesday.)

Flash forward to the evening. After walking the doggies and hanging in the pool for an hour, I squeeze and jump and twist my way into my Spanx and reinjure my wrist hooking up the waistnipper. (Apparently, that dress-trying-on injury need more time to heal.) Hair coiffed, make-up set, I study my look in the full-length mirror. Something was missing so I grab some pearls, partially to cover the inadvertent necklace tanline that has been created over the last few weeks. Perfect. And we head out the door.

Then the fun begins. I sit down in the car and my breath catches. Ouch! The waistnipper starts digging into my fleshy ribs. As we make the short drive to the school, I grow increasingly concerned about us sitting through a long dinner. (Maybe a little pooch in the front of the dress would have gone completely unnoticed and I am wearing this crazy painful thing for nothing.) It seems we park as far away as possible from the door, so the gel cushions get an early test. And they completely fail. I grimace the whole way and wonder how I am going to stand for hours in these killer heels. Other thing I notice, the deep v-neck likes to become deeper and wider as I walk. I am not used to revealing this much cleavage. A tug on the left shoulder seems to help bring the material back together. A little. Oh boy, I should have put a safety pin in my clutch. This will make for an interesting evening if ol' lefty keeps trying to sneak out.

Luckily we are near the front of the line so I'm not in too much pain or too disrobed by the time I am shaking hands. I give a discreet, quick tug on the left shoulder of the dress before I turn to shake the general's hand. Of course, the receiving line doesn't actually happen the way the ladies lunching said it would. After the general's wife, I am on my own for introductions. Interesting though. The general is a talker and Jack Bauer gets held up in the line, but I just keep moving forward. It's not like I don't say anything other than "Hello, how do you do?" I just keep my chit-chat brief. Everyone is very gracious. At the very end of the line, there is a "girlfriend." I feel bad for her; no ring but still has to be in a receiving line, yikes.

All hands shook, I arrive at the end of the line and wait for Jack. Our photo is taken and then we are on to the rest of the reception up in the fifth floor hall, with each step becoming slower and more painful and me grumbling "I hate these shoes," all done with a smile, of course.

At the reception, some of the first people we chat with are Cool Wife and her husband. I have a small glass of punch in my left hand, which I am holding fairly close to my chest. Her husband points in that general direction and asks, "What's that?" I lean over to Cool Wife and ask if her husband is referring to my breasts or my drink.

I meet many of Jack's instructors, all seemingly very funny, or at least they think they are. For everyone being all dolled up, the evening is very relaxed. (Our law school had a big reception like this every year, and last night's event had the same feeling: a cool but dressy drinking-dining date.) We circulate about the room, enjoy hors d'oeuvres and drinks, stopping at the tall bar tables long enough for me to get a sufficient break to shift some weight off of my feet if only for a few seconds. How could I have ever liked these shoes?

After the sun sets, we walk out on to the the balcony and enjoy the evening view and decidedly pleasant air and, ahhh, chairs. I give my feet a break but the waistnipper pokes back into my ribs. (I am really going to have to do something about this. The next fancy dress needs to be worn sans nipper.) Sitting down, the dress definitely wants to open wide in the front. I keep fidgeting with the left shoulder trying to discreetly wrangle ol' lefty back into a slightly more acceptable state of coverage. It is a losing battle.

With dinner reservations at 9 PM, we gather up the posse and turn to walk out when the general stops with one of our members, the class leader. First of all, what is the general still doing there? Second, why is he such a Chatty Cathy? And third, what's with the perfect timing of grabbing the class leader as we are heading out to our fancy dinner?

Dinner is at a local steakhouse with the class leader, his wife who flew in for the weekend, and Jack's platoon sergeant. Mrs. Class Leader is a riotous blend of southern graciousness, conservative politics, and beer. She and I hit it off perfectly. She even loves may snorty laugh. We talk so much over dinner, I can't even remember if the steak is good. Now the mashed potatoes are divine as is the creme brulee.

Dinner over, we get outside, and I can't stand it any longer: the shoes come off. By this time, the nipper, having been adjusted several times in the ladies' room, has folded itself over and is creating an unsightly pooch (hmmm, wasn't that the EXACT thing I was trying to hide with this hideous thing?)

Anyway, we get back to the hotel, change clothes, and meet up in the lobby for more gabbing. Mrs. Class Leader brings down some beers in her D&B tote. The news is on, covering the democratic VP pick. We talk and laugh (and I snort) until 1:30 AM. Neither Jack nor I can remember the last time we stayed up that late.

The night over, it was a successful evening. Especially since my left nipple never made an appearance.

Coffe, Lunch, Reception

In less than 24 hours, I will have coffeed, lunched, and been received.

It all began last night with the local spouse club's big welcome coffee. (Last month's coffee was a welcome for the spouses accompanying the OBC soldiers ; it was a small affair.) It may have been labeled as a coffee but it was just more like a buffet dinner. Good thing we were told that there was going to be a ton of food and dinner beforehand was probably unnecessary. The group is all about fun and they have probably 15 different groups to have fun with: beading, scrapbooking, sewing, book club (we were expressly told that you do NOT have to read the book! How sweet is that?), hiking, dining, lunching, hospitality, and on and on. So when we come back here there will definitely be stuff to do. It is a small military community and these women are making the most of it. I wonder if other posts are this?

Today, we have a luncheon for the OBC spouses. Really not sure what to expect, except for food. (These ladies talked a lot about eating last night. They say when you come for the grad course, it is like the freshman 15. Good thing Gold's Gym is free. I need to get back there. And I definitely need to get back to Weight Watchers. My pants aren't fitting so well. Uggg! I guess this means I can't eat those super yummy cream cheese mini-muffins or chocolate covered donuts for breakfast anymore. Or I could workout for four hours a day. But I'm not in shape to do that. So I have to give up the donuts. Damn.)

And then tonight it is a Blues Reception, receiving line and all. According to Today's Military Wife, the spouses in the Army, Navy, and Marine Corps go before the servicemember; in the Air Force, the servicemember goes first. (What's up with that, AFW???) Luckily, we are in the Army, so when it is my turn, I am to "smile, extend [my] hand, greet the first person by name, introduce [myself], and say 'How do you do?' Then move on to the next person." And as I read on ... Shoot! No cigarettes or drinks in the receiving line! How uncivilized! (please take note of sarcasm) I suppose these things need to be stated. Not everyone had National Charity League as a teenager. But at least I get to wear my fancy dress and then bitch (only to my husband, of course) about how my once incredibly comfortable shoes that I loved wearing to court are now killing my feet and how could I have ever thought they were even the slightly bit comfortable, I will never know.

Maybe we'll head out afterwards in our finest and have a fashionably late dinner with some of our new friends.

But for now I need to get ready for lunch and find some pants that fit. Wish me luck!

Say Cheese!

This afternoon I am going to get my new active duty ID. I am really excited about it because I'll have proof in hand that I am an active duty Army wife. Woohoo!

But what to wear? Is the photo black & white or color? I'll probably just go with a dark collared shirt.

Then what kind of facial expression do I give? A straight-on cheesy smile? A head tilt cheeky smile? A brow raise and a slight lip curl (a trademark of mine)? Or the deadpan mug shot? Oh the choices!

What do you all think?

UPDATE 1600
Well, I can't smile without getting bags under my eyes! Shoot! Just to prove that I am not a bag-eyed lady, here is a pick of a real eye along with the ID.

Crazy Army Talk

The other day Jack Bauer and I decided to go for a walk with the doggies. Of course, he was ready to go in about 30 seconds. I, on the other hand, had about 15 things I needed to do before I was ready, you know, like change my clothes, find my hat, go to the bathroom, check my make-up, put on my shoes. All reasonable things to do.

Apparently I was dawdling. Even though we had no place to be, no schedule, no appointments, no must-see TV. No nothing to rush back for.

As I was putting on my shoes, Jack said, "Hurry up!"

I stopped mid-tie and gave him the most incredulous look I could muster. He immediately apologized and I started chuckling.

Sounds like those newbies I keep talking about also like to dawdle. And Jack just said it out of habit. Good thing I am not a newbie. He'd be telling me to hurry up for the next 50 years.

Oh, and I can't seem to let this go. I keep teasing him about it. Maybe I'll work on that next week. *snort*

This Army life is tough

Now we are on to Day 3 of school here in C-ville and Day 3 of my life as a full-time Army wife. Let's see what I did yesterday.

5:10 AM: Wake up and stumble into bathroom wondering why I am awake.

5:20 AM: Walk in the dark through jungle between Residence Inn and the campus with doggies and Jack Bauer. Still wondering why I am awake. Make way across paved plain to the Stairs of Cirith Ungol.

5:27 AM: Huffing and puffing and wondering why I got up for this. Say good-bye to Jack and the doggies and I wander off to explore.

6:40 AM: Get back to Residence Inn. Collapse into chair with cup of coffee. Lapse into coma waiting for Jack Bauer to return to room for breakfast.

7:05 AM: Raid hot breakfast bar. I must appear like a total pig, hot and sweaty, no make-up, hat-haired, piling food high on a single plate. Return to room and give most of the food to Jack, except the yummy cheese mini muffin. Yum!

7:45 AM: Say good-bye to Jack and crawl into bed, hot and sweaty, and lapse into another coma.

11:00 AM: Finally get out of bed, even hotter and sweatier, shower and make lunch for Jack Bauer. He even thinks the wraps are store purchased because they were wrapped so tight, but I had a lot of experience watching Josie, the wrap goddess at my last job, perfecting the tight wrap.

1:00 PM: Finalize grocery list and go shopping. Now the shopping center is literally across the street from the Residence Inn but I need too much to carry. So I drive. Spend the next 2.5 hours buying postcards for the niece and nephews, eye cream from Origins, an incredible butterfly box (see photo, much prettier in person), clothes hangers, a chest of drawers, a lime juicer (a don't-leave-home-without-it item). Oh yeah, and groceries.

4:30 PM: Traverse jungle, paved plain, and the stairs in the humid heat of the day to attend "ice breaker" at Jack's school. Spend next hour making small talk. Nearly collapse on my way back to Residence Inn from exhaustion.

6:30 PM: Make dinner in tiny kitchenette. Spend next 3 hours doing something, maybe cleaning tiny kitchenette, maybe watching super-cute doggies sleep, maybe watching Jack read, maybe read emails. No clue. Obviously I lapsed into another coma.

9:00 PM: Wiggle way into bed and fight for space with Jack Bauer and Moo.

9:30 PM: Win tug-of-war with sheets. Moo loses and heads to the couch to sulk. The much smaller Bear takes her place. Heh.

9:56 PM: Turn off Hannity (hot) & Colmes (not) and read funny book sent to me from AWTM last fall (yeah, I am finally reading that book. Love it! Definitely need it while getting house ready to sell.)

On today's agenda? My first "coffee." Time to really crack open my copy of Today's Military Wife, 5th Edition, so I can find out what a "coffee" is when it taking place at 7 PM.