Moving and flying and pooping, oh my.

We're getting down to the wire now on our move. We have one more day of "normal" until the packers come.
We've got piles, mini-piles, and sub-piles laying about ready to be put into suitcases or vehicles and designated as "Do Not Move." You have to be on top of getting that stuff set aside or the packers will come in and have it boxed up before you know what happened.
They'll box your trash up with the trash can if you're not careful.
So we've set aside the stuff that Josh needs for his road trip, the stuff the kids and I need for the week we'll be staying here with friends, the stuff that the kids and I will need after arriving to California but before getting our things, and the stuff that I'll need for the plane trip (think Xanax).
Plus we might try to squeeze in a mini-getaway to Disneyland before our household goods are delivered, so we need everything that we would normally take on a vacation as well.
My brain hurts.

We probably over-complicate things, but we don't know how long we'll be without our stuff so we're going all boy-scout on the preparation.

The kids and I have plane tickets now, so that's definitely a move in the right direction.
The bad news is that it appears that our "stop but no plane change" equates to "no getting off the plane, like, ever until you arrive in California."
Surely I can find enough to do to keep the kids occupied for 8 hours in a row of an airplane, no?
And good golly, how much food am I going to need to bring to pull this off?

I really don't like flying with kids.
But the 45 hour drive between Goldsboro and Monterey didn't seem any better.

So let's catch up on the last week or so, shall we?

-- This year I met someone in real life through ye ole blog for the first time ever.
You see, there once was a girl named Megan (Hi, Megan!) who came across my blog while her husband was in pilot training. Then she shared it with her friend Susan, whose hubby was in the same class. And as it turned out, Susan's husband ended up being assigned here at the same base as us.

So I was able to hook her up with info on all the important facts about Goldsboro.
It was a short list.
Actually it was just one thing:

1) Taco Tuesday

What can I say? G'boro can leave a little to be desired.
(But in news of the Why-didn't-this-happen-sooner?, we're getting an Olive Garden. Which is a favorite of mine, but it wont be finished in time for me to partake.)

-- That was a long introductory point and frankly none too cohesive. But you had to know who Susan was for item 2.
Which is that Josh had his fini-flight last Friday. Remember what that is? It's the last flight you have during an assignment. Josh got to choose the type of mission they would fly, and after landing, folks gather to welcome you back to the ground with fire extinguishers filled with water and by spraying champagne in your face. This is followed by food and farewells in the squadron bar.

Good times.

Since I am an awesome friend, I realized that I had forgotten to invite Susan to Josh's fini-flight until about an hour before it started. But she came anyway, and also was willing to take pictures for us!
Thanks, Susan!

Here he comes...

Waiting for the engines to shut down

Gotcha!

Now to rinse the champagne off...

The lovebirds

-- Then later Friday night, I went out to dinner with some friends. We were a group of 10 ladies, and we had quite the interesting dining experience.
If by interesting, I mean terrible.

I would try to describe it in detail, but I don't think I could do it justice. It defies description.

 Let's just say that we ate in waves, some of us never getting a plate at all, and even just trying to pay was a 45 minute process.

About an hour or so after the first of us got our food, we just passed the leftovers down to the girls who obviously were never going to get a meal.

Luckily, a group of ladies can manage to find enough to chat about even during a 3-hour meal.

-- I feel that I haven't grossed you guys out enough in awhile. Well, except for my sister in law, who was uncomfortable with the whole lasagna thing.
Don't worry Jess, this story has nothing to do with sex.

And if you don't know what lasagna has to do with sex, then you're obviously better off than my sister in law.

So here's the back story. Many moons ago, Alex had a cold. And we had no tissues, so she took a roll of toilet paper with her to bed so she could wipe her nose in the night.
In the morning I would find a gazillion tissues all over her bed that didn't really seem used, but just wadded up. So I'd throw them away and move on.
Then on Saturday morning I was helping her pick up in her room and found her daily stash of wadded up toilet paper pieces floating around her bed. I tossed them, and then it dawned on me that she hasn't had a cold for a long time.
This conversation ensued:

Me: Alex, why are you still using so much tissue at night? Your nose isn't drippy at all. Here, take this toilet paper back to the bathroom.

Alex, nonchalantly replies: Oh, I'm not using it for my nose. Sometimes I just feel like there's poop on my butt, so I take tissue paper and wipe it to check.

Oh for the love. Do you know how many times I've touched poop-contaminated tissue pieces and not known where they had been?
I shouldn't be surprised.


Kids.