I am so over this summer already.

Happy Birthday, George Michael!

Since I spent a lot of time in airplanes/airports/lonely hotel rooms last week, I managed to polish off two books: Bonk by Mary Roach, and Rockabye by Rebecca Woolf.



I really dug Bonk - smart, funny, knowledgeable without being dry. Yes, please - let's talk about the more humorous aspects of sex and its study and how something can be kind of ridiculous and awesome at the same time. I loved the footnotes; I talk with parentheses and asides and footnotes, and it made total sense to me. The ending was a little abrupt and lacking - it felt rushed and a little lacking. Overall, pretty entertaining: B+



Rockabye was a little disappointing. I heard of Rebecca through momversations, and I always enjoy what she has to say, though I have never followed her blog. I guess maybe some writing styles don't translate very well into book form - I found myself skimming over paragraphs at a time because it sometimes got a little too navel-gazing for me, I guess. You are the sea, your son is the sky, the wind in the trees, yadda yadda yadda, I get it, okay moving on. I did like the constant message that you should always hold on to your sense of self with all the life changes you go through - it can be possible to absorb a new identity as mother (or spouse or whatever), and while it will change you, it does not have to define you - that is not all you are capable of being. So, meh: C+

I have three other half-read books lying around the house, but none of them are really calling out to me right now. Any suggestions?

Oh, yeah!

I took a little vacation! And didn't post any pictures! Because Life got in the way!

J is about to make some sweet love to a mockup of the external tank and solid rocket boosters.

We got complimentary passes to the exhibits at the Kennedy Space Center visitor's center as part of our launch passes. I took pictures of some of that stuff, but they aren't as interesting as they contain no references to fellatio.




And even though we got up at 3 in the morning (!!!) to catch the original launch time of 7:40 EDT on June 13, it wasn't for nothing. Out hotel was about 100 yards from the beach, so we walked down and watched the sun rise.

It was pretty fucking awesome.

So is my husband.

But dude, I can't take him anywhere without him trying to put shit in his mouth.

The upside of not having a launch to attend is that we were able to spend most of the day at the beach, though we managed to not only avoid sunburn but return just as white as when we started.

And despite the disappointment of not getting to see a launch, we still had a really good time.

Dude.

And this is without heat index, mind you.

Buzz Aldrin is so gangsta.

Making of Buzz Aldrin's Rocket Experience w/ Snoop Dogg and Talib Kweli from Buzz Aldrin

Aaaaand scrub.

This sucks.

Back to work tomorrow, having gotten maybe a total of 12 hours sleep in the past six days, to start replanning for a launch No Earlier Than July 11.

One of my coworkers, who just stayed this whole week instead of flying back and forth: "Gin, you should really try to come again in July."
Me: "Only if I start pooping fifties in between now and then."

I am disappointed and sad, and not at all looking forward to the task at hand, but glad that the NASA program did the right thing - better to be late and safe and successful.

Off to spend another afternoon in various airports - though this time I only have a 1-hour layover in Atlanta, as compared to the 3 1/2 hours I spent there on Tuesday.

Peace out, homies.

I am currently in Cocoa Beach, Fla for the second time in six days, using expensive internet in the lobby of a cheap hotel, hoping and praying with every ounce of my being that we have a successful launch tomorrow. I wish this for a multitude of reasons - mostly selfish (mainly, Holy Shit, I have now dropped roughly $2k on this back-and-forth business now), but ultimately good-intentioned. If you are so inclined, please send prayers/good thoughts/good vibes Kennedy Space Center way, and if you happen to be up, watch the launch at 0540 EDT.

Until later this week....

Weekend pics

Nothing earth-shattering - just a few pictures that I took while entertaining myself before J's youngest brother's graduation.





I pray every day of my life that our children get J's eyelashes.


How cute is my husband?

I am in a fabulous mood today. So much so that in the Starbucks drive-thru this morning, I bought the coffee of the person behind me.

I’m wearing a new shirt. My hair is looking pretty good. My Southern Living order came in, and I have a new cookbook to break in this weekend. Jamie’s back in Texas (YAY!). And in one week from now I will be waking up in Florida, and in just shy of 8 days, I’ll be watching the launch of STS-127, a reward for the past 14 months of the hardest work I have ever done in my life. It will be awesome to know that I Helped Do That. I can’t wait!!!!!

I wish you all were here with me today. We would go out to lunch, find a nice Mexican restaurant with an inviting patio, and the first round of margaritas would be on me. We’d laugh and soak up the Sun and the Happy like sponges.

May your weekend be filled with sunshine, lollipops and rainbows and everything that’s wonderful, since I'm sure that's what I'd feel when we're together.

The custodial staff have started using a new kind of soap in the dispensers in the bathrooms at work. It bugged me all day, but I finally realized that it smells like my old boyfriend's car. WTF.

THAT, I remember. Getting my two-months-overdue car inspected, not so much.

I specifically left work early so I could come home and clean my disastrous kitchen, as the upcoming weekend will be busy with family obligations.

Instead, I had a glass of wine and have been Googling and Facebooking for the past 2 hours; I only unloaded half of the dishwasher before I said Fuck It.
The internet is a wonderful and horrible place.

One of J’s friend’s father-in-law died recently.
J offered to help move some of the belongings out of the house. His friend, as a token of thanks for the help, has offered to let J have his choice of one of the FIL’s prized possessions. Behold:

Should your vision be impaired, as I understand it can be difficult to Look Directly Into The Fug, let me break it down for you:
-Stuffed dear head
-Collection of clay jugs (presence of moonshine unconfirmed
-“Southwestern” rug
-Miniature ceramic reclining ten-point buck
-Horseshoe votive holder
-BEAR SKIN
-STUFFED BABY BEAR

OH. MY. GOD.

You can guess from my distressed tone which two of these charming pieces J has the most interest in.

J: “A bear skin rug! Our house could be like a vintage Playboy photo shoot! Or a baby bear! The kitty cats could pretend to ride it, and it would be like the circus!”
Me: “Holy crap, I am married to a Crazy.”

I get that he is probably just messing with me, but sometimes I can’t tell with him and he pulls some crazy shit. So help me God, if a piece of taxidermy should ever enter my home, I’m going to Throw Down.

J and I went OUT out on Saturday night for the first time in a couple of months. The bar was of the sort that we don’t typically frequent – we are old and don’t like local frat boy rejects, and The Continental Club just feels like home now (tangent: is it sad to say that a given BAR “feels like home”?) – but this new group of friends had wanted to hear a band there, so we decided to be adventurous (read: “decided to give it a couple of hours before we pulled the ‘J has to work tomorrow’ excuse, if needed”).
The band put on a great show – The Molly Ringwalds are an 80’s tribute band out of New Orleans, and have great singalongability. Hearing an entire bar sing the synthesizer bridge of “Weeeeee-ooo-weeeeee” to The Cars’ “Just What I Needed” is something everyone should experience.

I know, I know. It’s one of those things that if you get into it, you’ll have a great time – if you act Too Cool For School, then whatever, dude – anyone that isn’t down with The Safety Dance is no friend of mine.

So the band was good and all, but I had just as much, if not more, fun people-watching with J. Sometimes I forget how much fun he and I can have at random places doing random things together.

We had scrounged a place to sit on the edge of some platform, next to another married couple (we could tell because they were not giving off the obvious I Am Trying To Get Laid vibe). We were sipping beer and making astute observations about our fellow bar patrons. This one chick kept walking by in ridiculous heels, a ridiculously short and skimpy sundress, and some giant-ass (fake?) Coach or Louis Vuitton or some such nonsense-looking purse, that was obviously empty.

Me, to J, and also no one in particular: “Why in the hell do you need a GIANT ASS PURSE in a BAR? Phone, Cash, ID, Lip gloss – if it doesn’t fit into your jean pockets, you don’t need it.”

J: “Word.”

The girl trips by again – it is 10 and she is already pretty wasted.

Me, still talking to no one in particular: “What the hell does she have in that bag that she needs to carry around AT A BAR?”

Married Chick Next To Me: “Her spray tan.”

OH, SNAP!

Me, to Chick Next To Me: “Awesome.”

I will go on record right now to say that not high-fiving her for that remark is now in the Top Ten Biggest Regrets Of My Life; that was totally deserving of an Up High.

Dear Chick Next To Me At The Bar,

Even though I know nothing about you, that comment confirmed that you and I are kindred spirits. Let’s be friends and braid each others’ hair while we drink wine out of my favorite collectible Dr. Pepper Fonzie glasses and gripe about stupid people. You are awesome.

Love,

Gin