Hiatus

Stealing my husband's lingo for an extended absence from blogging, I'll just say that I've been on "a hiatus."

Said hiatus pretty much began the day Ian left. Early in the wee hours of that morning, the call of nature woke me from my slumber and I peed on a stick. The results woke me up faster than a triple shot of espresso injected directly into my veins. "I'M PREGNANT???" WAIT, I MEAN "I'M PREGNANT!!!!!!"

So, yes, I'm pregnant. Needless to say, it was quite the emotional roller coaster that day. We were ecstatic to find out the good news, and were able to celebrate for about 15 hours together before Ian got on a bus destined for Japan. (Well, the bus itself wasn't going to Japan...he had to get on an airplane...oh, never mind.)

Prior to and after Ian's departure, I had East Coast friends visiting. The last one left San Diego just a few days before Aaron and I packed up and headed to the East Coast ourselves. Over the course of about six weeks, I went to two weddings (Congrats Benny and Nick and Blake and Mary!!), spent a week at the family cabin in Maine, saw lots of familiar faces, spent time with family, and even squeezed (squoze) in a week in Newfoundland.

We had a FABULOUS time seeing everyone, but boy, oh, boy, was I glad to get home. There really is no place like home.

But, now that we're here, we've finally had time to let it sink in that Daddy's really and truly on his adventure. I'll be especially blue this Friday, on the 30th anniversary of my love's birth, and I really wish I could spend it with him. Not drinking. Because I can't. Which sucks. But I would TOTALLY DD for him.

At least football season starts soon. (11 DAYS!!) But it won't be the same without a Sam Winter in hand. Well, I suppose it COULD be in hand, just not open. Which is just not as fun.

Points of Order

Just a few thoughts:

1. Yes, I stole the idea for this month's header from Meghan. Yes, I think she'll get over it. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
2. Irish people should always wear sunblock. The 2nd degree sunburn on my shoulders agrees.
3. I am currently torn between really wanting to return to work and continuing to stay at home for awhile. In the pro column for gainful employment is the second income that our family has been used to for awhile now, and the incessant stream-of-consciousness ramblings of my toddler will be much more bearable in smaller amounts. In the pro column for staying at home, I can plan an extended trip to New England and Newfoundland in July and August. And, you know, not having to...like...work.
4. I support Arizona's new immigration law. There. I said it. Maybe I have a slightly different perspective living less than a hundred miles from the border, but the way I see it is this: drug cartels and gangs = bad. By toughening up our immigration laws, we are cracking down on the number of corruptive influences that make their way into the country. Yes, I realize that a number of people come here to find work to support their families. Well, here's what I have to say to that: DO IT LEGALLY. No, I do not think that I should have to support you and your family and have my taxpayer dollars fund your health benefits when you aren't even in this country LEGALLY. I understand that Arizona's new law raises concerns about racial stereotyping and can sympathize with those who are here legally who may be subject to unfair treatment. But on the other hand, these legal citizens have probably been through the ringer in getting legal status, so if it were me and I did all that work, I might be kind of pissed if someone were reaping the advantages not having put in the work.
5. This "Everyone Draw Mohammed Day" is Stoopid. You're just fueling the fire, people. Stop being immature and leave well enough alone.
6. The Library of Congress recently archived all tweets. So that years from now, our children's children can look up what we had for lunch on any given day of the year.
7. This is awesome. I would like to meet this Nerdlington J. Techsupport.
8. Boston has no drinkable water. And MORE IMPORTANTLY, Bostonians can't get their Dunks and Sam Adams has stopped brewing. This will have HUGE repercussions, people. HUGE. Thankfully, Dunk has found another way for people to get their fix.

Quake

This is a screenshot of the big earthquake we had here yesterday, and all the following aftershocks. Yay.

Yesterday, as I was making Easter dinner for my family and friends, we had a 7.2 earthquake here in SoCal. Since I had, only a few minutes before, clogged our garbage disposal and Ian was tinkering with it, the two of us originally thought that the shaking was just the disposal trying to purge its contents. But when I looked up and saw the lights hanging from our ceiling swinging and heard the plates rattling, I knew we were having an earthquake. Ian and I both kind of froze for a minute, but when things started getting going, I sprinted for a doorway while Ian went to grab Aaron from his bed, where he was napping.

Let me just say: I HATE EARTHQUAKES. Growing up in "Tornado Alley" outside of Atlanta, and spending time in North Carolina, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts, I can deal with tornadoes, hurricanes, blizzards, nor'easters, etc. I can deal with the potential to be sucked up into the sky, buried under feet of snow. But having the earth fall away at my feet IS NOT COOL.

For the record, neither is being burned up by wildfires. I miss the east coast.

The Pilot's Wife Rules of Driving in the Rain

Recently, SoCal has been hit by some rather unfavorable weather. In fact, I'm seriously considering asking for my money back: I signed up for sunny and 70, folks, not rainy and 40!

Now, don't get me wrong. I, as much as the next person, enjoy a rainy day at home, in bed with a good book, but what I truly don't enjoy is the Monday morning commute with a bunch of weenie SoCal drivers. And, on days like today, I really envy my husband, who can just fly over all this commuter crap.

So, you see, I grew up in Atlanta, in a part of the state that sees some CRAZY ASS WEATHER. On more than one occasion, my mother literally had to drag me down to the basement so I wouldn't be sucked up into the sky by the funnel cloud of which I so desperately wanted to catch a glimpse. So, needless to say, driving in the rain isn't that big a deal to me. Because, let's face it, on I-285, it's sink or swim, bitches. Actually, more like drive or DIE.

So you can imagine my frustration as I attempted to wind my way down the I-15 this morning. On a normal day, the flow of traffic on that highway can be expected to be about 80mph or so, so you can imagine my consternation at having to drive 40 FRAKKING MILES PER HOUR through what can only be described as heavy drizzle.

With my patience wearing thinner and thinner (as well as that of my son, Aaron, screaming from the backseat, "GO GO GO GO!), my exit came into view. THANK YOU LORD. However, blocking my ability to exit the highway is Joe Douchebag, who is trying to merge into the flow of traffic by COMING TO A COMPLETE STOP, sitting in the right hand lane with his blinker on. Really, people, how hard is it to MERGE? (And alternatively, for those already in the flow of traffic, don't be an assface -- let the bastard in!) They even put up those ridiculously asinine ramp lights to help you out with that. (And don't even get me started on those...because really, it makes COMPLETE sense to require drivers to come to a complete stop, before giving them approximately 50 yards to merge into 80mph traffic!) But no, here sits Joe Douchebag, at zero miles per hour, completely blocking the right lane, and apparently oblivious to the horn on which I have been leaning for the past five minutes. (And all I got for my trouble was an extended middle finger!)

So, with that delightful little introduction, I give you, dear reader (and dear Joe Douchebag) The Pilot's Wife Rules of Driving in the Rain:

1) Turn your headlights on.
This really is a no brainer. Combine the fog of the marine layer with the steam rising off the road, and basically any moisture falling on San Diego is going to create a bit of limited visibility. Trust me, this isn't for your benefit alone: it also helps the people behind you from smashing into your rear bumper. Leading me to #2...

2) DON'T TAILGATE.
Taking into consideration that 98% of the population of Southern California reacts to rain in much the same way that Atlantans react to a single snowflake falling from the sky, you'll be doing yourself a favor by allowing a little extra space between you and the car in front of you. So, at the very least, when the idiot in front of you can't seem to remember if THIS is his exit or not (in spite of the fact that he probably makes this commute EVERY DAY OF HIS LIFE) and slams on his brakes in order to squint at the sign, you'll be far enough behind him to react appropriately. A general rule of thumb for this is one car length for every 10mph. That, however, is not to say...

3) See that sign? That's the speed limit!
If the posted speed limit is 65 miles per hour, why don't you maybe try going 55 when it's raining? Really, 35 mph is a bit excessive.

4) Pump your brakes.
Should the cars in front of you not read this blog, and don't know to turn on their headlights or drive faster than a normal person can run, don't slam on your brakes when they ultimately slam on theirs. Water on the road = hydroplaning. Ease on up, huh?

5) If you really can't hack it, pull the frak over.
If you can't stand the heat (or my horn), get out of the kitchen. Pull over to the right, turn on your hazard lights, and wait it out.

6) OBEY THE LAW.
I'm talking to you, truckers! You know that little law that FORBIDS you from driving in the lefthand lane? Well, just because it's raining doesn't mean that it doesn't still apply.

I really think that if everyone took these simple rules into account (read: if everyone was as awesome as I am), we could all just get along swimmingly.

Wedded Bliss

Excuse me whilst I barf. (As I'm repeatedly told by my husband, I'm so unromantic.)

Today is my and Ian's three year wedding anniversary. Thanks to the Marine Corps, we have spent this day together only once. (And that day was actually my due date, and we spent the evening at my company Christmas party, where I got to watch everyone else get drunk.) Yet in spite of all that, the past three years truly have been some of the best in my life. Recap? OK.

December 18, 2005 - The Newlyweds drive to NYC for their honeymoon in Bree's grandfather's Buick. They split the driving, but somehow, Bree ends up driving the last leg through the city. Screaming, wailing, gnashing of teeth, and threats of divorce ensue.

December 19, 2005 - Bree comes down with The Plague.

December 19-21, 2005 - More wailing and gnashing of teeth. But hey, if we were going to be stuck inside, at least it was a nice room (Renaissance Hotel in the middle of Times Square). Yeah, Marriott Discount!

December 21-24 - Did I mention that we were visiting NYC during the transit strike of 2005? This severely limited our excursions to those things within walking distance. We did share a cab with some interesting folks out to Ellis Island, however. We got to see some awesome shows (Rent, The Producers, I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change), went to see David Letterman, and took in the sights.

December 25, 2005 - Bree refuses to drive in the city again. Makes Ian drive first leg back to MA. Streets are obviously deserted, and this is the easiest drive EVER.

December 31, 2005 - The Newlyweds celebrate NYE with friends in Manchester. Little Purple Hands!

January 1, 2006 - Bree drives Ian to MHT airport to catch a flight back to to Pensacola. Ian, having been "overserved," didn't come to bed until about 1.5 hours before we were supposed to leave for the airport. As a result, he is sticking his head out of the car window on the way to the airport and hiccuping through the security line.

Mid-January 2006 - Bree packs up her U-Haul with all her wordly possesions, grabs a co-worker to drive it for her and makes her way to Wilmington, NC, where Ian will be stationed at MCAS New River. Ian and Bree ("Bree-an" from here on out) settle in to their new place, and go about their new lives together.

Mid-March, 2006 - Oops! Is that a plus sign?!

Mid-July, 2006 - Bree-an's lease comes up, and Ian is supposed to finish up training any day now. Bree-an moves into their friend Shaun's beach house.

August, 2006 - 5-months-pregnant Bree and Ian begin their drive West. Before they can leave the house, however, Bree leaves her cell phone locked in Shaun's hosue. The drive "West" goes something like this: North Carolina, Washington, D.C., Boston, Maine, Toronto, Ohio, Missouri, Amarillo, Flagstaff, San Diego. 4 days of searching yields an overpriced apartment in Del Mar.

December, 2006 - One year of wedded bliss. 32 hours of contractions, 3 hours of pushing and voila! Aaron Patrick Brown, in all his glory.

August, 2007 - Sick of the overpriced apartment in college-kid ridden hell, Bree-an and offspring move to an overpriced townhouse.

September, 2007 - East coasters invade and successfully surprise Ian on his birthday.

October, 2007 - Ian deploys for Iraq. One day later, Bree and Aaron evacuate their home from SoCal wildfires threatening San Diego.

December, 2007 - First anniversary solo. Aaron's first Christmas and birthday in New England.

May, 2008 - Ian returns from Iraq!

July, 2008 - Bree-an buys their first home together.

December, 2008 - Ian is away at a three-week training in Yuma, AZ, and Bree spends the second of three anniversaries solo.

So there you have it. Through all the ups and downs, however, we still have the best time. Ian makes me laugh more than anyone else I know (with the exception of those Peyton Manning MasterCard commercials), and there is no one I would rather wait for to come home. I'll always be waiting, and I'll never stop loving you, Ian. I love you. Happy Anniversary.

Assimilation

While I in no way consider myself a Californian, there are a few things of which I have recently become aware, that frighten me to no end. (Most notably, the fact that as temperatures dipped into the low 60s and the day was overcast, I thought to myself that "it's a bit chilly today.") I like lists, so we'll do it that way:

• The word "dude." While it's always been a part of my vocabulary, it has never had such a prominence in my vernacular until living in SoCal. Everyone is a dude. Duuuuude.
• "The" is, apparently, a requirement in preceding any highway. Directions to my house include: Take the 5 north to the 56 and head east. Take the 15 south to the Mercy Road exit. Also of note: never before,  in all my travels on the east coast, would I have made it to a destination relying on cardinal directions. Here, it's pretty much a given, but I constantly mentally think, "Never Eat Sour Worms."
• Flip-flops. All. The. Time. 
• Bicyclists. Man, do they effin' annoy me. But, when gas is at $3.60 a gallon for the cheap stuff, I can't say I blame 'em.  

Now, don't get me wrong, there are still puhhhhlenty of things about the left coast that still really piss me off. Numero Uno: It's called sarcasm, people. I don't actually mean it. Numero Dos: No Dunkin' Donuts. Numero Tres: Fires = NOT COOL. Give me a Nor'Easter any day of the week. Numero Next One: No Dunkin' Donuts. Numero Next One: Celebrities everywhere who actually think I give a shit about what they say, especially in regard to politics. And, lastly, there's no Dunkin' Donuts. 

But, I think, when it comes down to it, when we do eventually meander back to the east coast, there are a few things I will definitely miss.... ok, really, only one thing is coming to mind: mexican food. I do love me my cadillac margaritas!