No ID? No Problem!

I started flying as an unaccompanied minor when I was seven or eight years old. Back then, your friends and family members could walk back to your gate with you, I didn't need a state or government issued ID, and suitcases always flew free. Post 9/11, so much of that has changed in order to keep us safe... Or so I thought.

After "Walker Family Thanksgiving," we rushed home to pick up Sugar and wait for our ride to the airport. Everything was going well. The bags were pre-packed from earlier in the day, and we had a little extra time to get through security.

The wonderful thing about traveling these days, is that you can check yourself in online, and if you don't have time to do that, you can still just as easily use a kiosk at the airport. Having Sugar with us made the process a little more lengthy, because although we had a confirmation number for her, you can't check a dog in at the kiosk. When we were ready to give the travel agent our confirmation numbers and show our identification, I noticed that something very important was missing from my wallet. Yep, my driver's license. I couldn't believe it. In all the years that I have traveled, I couldn't remember a single instance that I had left my ID behind. I didn't even have time to work up a minor anxiety attack before the travel agent assured me that it would be okay, and that I would have to do some additional screening, but I could still get on the flight. Unlike some travelers who get all huffy and puffy about this additional screening, I honestly don't care. Just because I look all sweet and innocent, doesn't mean I'm not bomb making savvy with a stone cold heart. Plus, with my ID being absent, I would hope they would do a little something extra.

As I mentally prepared myself for this additional screening, we approached the desk where they verify your ID with the name on your boarding pass. I explained to the gentleman that I did not have my ID, and understood that I would need to go through some additional screening. He asked if I was traveling alone, and I told him that I was traveling with my husband. Once he verified that we had the same last name, we were good to go. No pat down, no going through my carry-on, no scanning Sugar for drugs. A matching last name, that was my additional screening. Hello people! Do you know how many Tara Walkers there are in the world!?!

Needless to say, I was happy to not miss my flight out. But, although I know next to nothing about explosives, I am a little disappointed that the airport security didn't take a few more precautions.

Thanksgiving before Halloween!?!

Every year, it feels like stores are putting out decorations for holidays before the current holiday has truly even begun. Well, this year, it wasn't just the decorations in stores that were early, the 'Walker Family Thanksgiving' was on October 18th.

This celebration happened to fall almost exactly one month after we moved down to California. Aaron's aunt & uncle were very kind, and purchased our plane tickets to return home for the festivities. I have to admit, although Washington was rainy and dreary when we arrived, it was so nice to be out of the studio hotel room and back into my own comfy bed.

'Thanksgiving' was scheduled to be on Sunday, which was the same day that we were headed back to California. I had it stuck in my head that it was beginning at 2:00pm, and that we would have to leave there by 4:30pm to catch our flight. When we arrived at 1:45pm, everyone was already sitting down eating. I couldn't believe it. Someone told me once, that if you are the type of person that is always late, you think that the world revolves around you. With that being said, I never like to be the one that people are waiting on. So, although I'm usually the person who is very 'together' in front of others, and wouldn't dare cry (unless viewing a sappy movie of course :)), I lost it. I couldn't control myself. I was 'that' person. The part that drove me even more crazy, was that being late was my breaking point. Seriously!?! I'm pretty sure I was the only one that cared we were late.

After I halfway pulled it together, we finished up the Thanksgiving feast and headed home to grab our bags and fly back to Cali.

Some things in life, you can't miss...

When I was in first grade, I met a girl that I would call my best friend. Twenty years later, I call the same girl my sister. She is a truly amazing woman. She has a contagious smile, a huge heart, and a zest for life that is unmatchable. She was my maid of honor, and as Aaron says, "She's my person."

The thing about living in a different state from the ones that you love, is more often than not, you will be unable to physically be there during important times. My sister had some very important news that was scheduled to be available the day Aaron and I arrived home from California. We decided that she would come over to the house, log on to get the info, and I would read it to her. I was super nervous, because although I had very positive thoughts about the outcome, no one likes to be the bearer of bad news. The time came, we logged on, and she had read the dates incorrectly. Results were to be mailed that day, and available online three days later. This would have been fine under normal circumstances, but I was going to be back in California three days later. I was very disappointed.

The amazing thing about God, is that He knows exactly what you need and when you need it in your life. The very next day, I was driving to the store after dropping Aaron off to get his haircut, and Vanessa called. She had already received the letter in the mail. I wasn't close to home, so she put me on speaker phone as she and her mom opened the letter and read it over the phone. She passed the Washington State Bar! We were all screaming with joy and excitement over the phone. I had tears rolling down my face for the shear happiness I had for my sister. She accomplished what she set out to do in first grade. Not many people can say that.

That night we went out for a champagne toast to celebrate. And I thank God to this day that I was able to be there for her, and that He gave me such an amazing woman to share life with. I love you V!

Sugar's First Plane Ride!

When you are a child, the things that you relate to are those that surround you in your everyday world. I grew up with a big, lovable, black lab, that was my personal bodyguard. He was amazing. Because I grew up with a big dog, whenever people talked about taking their dogs on the airplane with them, I always imagined huge dogs in their kennels, traveling in their own area on the plane. Well, for our 'Walker Thanksgiving' trip back to Washington, we decided to bring Sugar on her very first plane ride. Seeing as that boarding her was basically the same price as flying her, we thought, why not?

I looked up all the info online for what steps we needed to take to bring her with us. She got her very own confirmation number, and had to fit under the seat in front of me. I have to admit that the dimensions were a little intimidating to read, and they wanted her to be able to move around in those dimensions with 'ease' was near impossible. Thank goodness for soft sided travel bags! The night before our trip, we went to the local pet store and purchased the largest doggie travel bag we could find within the airline's guidelines. We made sure we could at least zip it around Sugar, and it was a done deal. Sugar traveled very well on the way to Washington. She didn't wine or bark on the plane. The girl next to me didn't realize I even had an animal. When she did notice, she thought I had a cat. I knew Sugar wasn't super excited about this traveling in a bag idea, but once we reached home, her excitement told me that it was all worth it!

Popping the Safety Bubble...

I remember when I was five years old, my mom and I would go to our local Safeway, and I would always hide behind her when the checker would try and chat with me. As I got older, I just remained quiet when meeting new people and was thought of as snobby. Being in California has forced me to pop my comfort bubble. I have been put in many situations where being quiet will get me no where, and giggling to break the uncomfortable tension would only get me so far.

One thing that is slightly out of my comfort zone is meeting new people, unless in a business setting. I also don't like to ask for help, and hate playing up being a girl in order to get it. Since being in California, I have met many new people in a business setting, as well as a personal setting, I have definitely had to ask for help, and I have played up being a girl a couple of times to solicit it.

One thing I think most people hate to ask for is directions. When you are already at a location and your navigation decides to stop working, and you have no idea how to get back to the freeway, do you really have any other choice? Getting directions from a local combines two things that definitely press my bubble. Meeting a new person, and asking for help. Pop! After asking locals for directions multiple times, getting suggestions on decent places to eat, and living in public housing, my bubble popped.

I have a new bubble now. It is much larger than the previous, and a little more flexible from all the experiences that I have had in California. I am thankful for this.

Experiencing East Bay Culture...

I'm not sure if I have ever truly experienced the culture in an area quite like we experienced the culture of the East Bay. I'm not even sure if I have truly experienced the true culture of Puyallup, and I've lived in or around it my whole life. Unless 'Doing the Puyallup,' would be considered seeing the culture. Although I know many people that would beg to differ on that one.

After being in NorCal for a couple of weeks, Aaron, Brian, and I decided to go check out Hangar1. Hangar1 is a very cool vodka distillery that is on the east side of the bay, facilitated in the Alameda Naval Air Station. I have done a champagne tasting in Napa, and a mini wine tasting at Wine Styles, but I never would have thought of doing a liquor tasting. The best part about Hangar1 Vodka is that it is made from real fruit. You can purchase so many artificially flavored drinks, but this stuff is the real deal. It smelled exactly like the fruits it was made from, and one chipotle flavored vodka, tasted just like salsa, minus all the diced goodies. I would say that Hangar1 definitely adds to the fun culture of the East Bay Area.

After some fun, Brian decided to leave for the rest of the weekend, and Aaron and I decided to go church hunting on Sunday. We drive by multiple churches on our way to work every morning, and there was one that I thought would be worth a try. What a great way to experience the culture of an area! I looked at it online, and made sure the beliefs system lined up with ours, and we decided to go to the 9am service. The church we experienced was not at all like the church we go to in Washington. We go to High Pointe Community Church back home. The dress style is casually comfortable, the music is contemporary, and our pastor is an amazing speaker that actively engages the audience with comedy, while sharing the word of God to help us grow as individuals. The dress style at this church was suits and dresses. The music was not any that I had heard before; it was some what contemporary with a little 'Sister Act 2' thrown into the mix. And the bones of the message were good, but when the former PGA Tour contender pastor tried to relate it to current times with, 'Baby, you look fiiinnnee,' in replace of Abram telling Sarai, 'Because you are so beautiful,' I definitely got a little lost in my inner laughter. It was such a great way for Aaron and I to experience the community in which we were working.

As the weeks continued in California, we experienced lots of other cultural things, and I have come to the conclusion that, there are so many different mini-cultures within a community. No matter how much you experience in one community, there is still so much more out there.

Nothing replaces the comforts of home...

When I was younger, whenever we would go on vacation, I would bring my teddy bear, 'Brownie.' Once I was able to drive, I never really stayed over at friends' houses, because I enjoyed the comforts of my own bed, shower, and breakfast food. After being in California for a couple of weeks, I was definitely missing some of the comforts of home.

There were some days that I wished I could just run home and grab a couple more things. On the weekends, we started going to Country Waffles, in replace of Aaron's Sunday waffle making. We had to make other little adjustments here and there to accommodate and enjoy our new home-tel lifestyle as well, but one of the luxuries we enjoy that you can also find globally, is Starbucks. The amazing thing that I love about Starbucks, is that no matter what town you're in, they provide you with consistency. So, when I was needing a home-like comfort, I went to Starbucks, and purchased my usual ::Iced-Tall-Skinny-Vanilla-Latte::. The even better part about enjoying my favorite Starbucks beverage, is that my mom supports my habit with a re-loadable Starbucks gift card. Drinking my Starbucks is like getting a hug from a couple of states away. Thanks mom for understanding the importance of having a good, consistent cup of coffee.

You want me to drive what?

I learned how to drive when I was five years old. On special weekends, I would wake up early, and get to go golfing with my dad. Back then, I didn't actually golf, I drove the golf cart, and drank hot chocolate. Even though I knew the basics of driving, when I was fifteen, I was required to take driver's ed. My instructor told me I did very well and caught on quickly, which then reflected in my driver's license drive test, when I scored 100%. I now have nine years of driving experience under my belt, a few accidents, and a couple speeding tickets. But, nothing quite prepared me for hopping into a fourteen foot Ryder rental truck.

Up to this point, the only vehicle I had driven while down in Cali was our Honda Civic. I rode around in the 26 foot box truck with Aaron & Brian, but that was the extent of it. When we originally left Washington, I was under the impression that I was going to be a sales rep that would drive a Scion, place orders, and have the orders be fulfilled by a driver the following day. A couple weeks into our stay, I was informed that I would be driving a box truck. I have to admit, I was a little nervous, but part of me was excited to break a stereotype. I am a 5'2", bubbly brunette, with designer jeans. I am not the 'type' of girl that most people envision being a delivery driver. But there I was, about to be driving a fourteen foot Ryder rental truck.

The first day I drove the rental truck was definitely the all time worst day to ever start driving one of those things. It happened to be the first day that it rained while we were in California. Usually when it rains in Cali, it is what us Washingtonians consider a mist, but this day was torrential down pour. Not only was it raining, but we were experiencing 25-35 mph winds. I was so scared driving down the freeway, in a vehicle I had never driven before, on a road I wasn't familiar with, basically in a big metal sail, that I literally was yelling inside the cab of the truck. If I was on reality TV, it would have been one of those moments that the network would have kept playing over and over to get you interested in watching that episode. I arrived to the first store with an elevated heart rate, but in one piece. By the end of the day, my pants were soaked up to my knee and my hair was a mess, but I didn't die.

That afternoon I made it back to the warehouse with no bumps or bruises, on myself, or the truck. I backed the truck up to the dock like a professional, and told Aaron I couldn't believe he would actually think I would be okay driving that truck. Aaron assured me that it was in fact the worst day to ever learn to drive that truck, and that at no time after that would I be afraid for my life while driving it. Don't tell him I said this, but he was right :)

Am I Dreaming?

Prior to moving to California, the only involvement that I had ever had with police officers, was when they would write me a ticket for a traffic infraction. Which has happened quite a few times. One of the things that public housing in California has offered me recently, is a more intimate relationship with the Dublin Police Department.

As mentioned before, Aaron and I go to work very early in the morning. We are at the warehouse most days between 4:15 & 4:45am. In order to accomplish this each morning, it requires for us to go to bed each night by around 8:00pm and get a good nights rest. Most of the time, this is pretty easy, but when you are living in a public facility, you never know what's going to happen.

Knock-Knock-Knock. Pound-Pound-Pound. 'I need you to open the door!'

This is what I woke up to while deep into my REM cycle at midnight. No, the knocking wasn't on our door; it was on one of the other doors down the hall. I stayed lying in bed while the incessant knocking, pounding, and yelling continued for about fifteen more minutes. At this point I'm thinking that a volleyball dad is trying to get the girls on the team to open the door, so that he can get them to go to bed. Always the optimistic. Twenty minutes into the knocking, pounding, and yelling, I decide that something needs to be said to this man, because I am exhausted and have to get up for work in three hours. As I got out of bed, Aaron said, 'Don't yell at them.' I assured him that I was just going to ask them to quite down, because we had to work in a couple of hours. We were clearly both delirious, because 1. I would never do this if fully coherent, because I am not a confrontational person by nature, and 2. Aaron did not stop me from opening the door. I opened the door, blinded by the lights in the hallway, squinting, I looked to my right. No one was in sight. As I looked to my left, a Dublin Police Officer was approaching me. Definitely not a volleyball dad. Speechless, I'm sure my face said it all. I thought about closing the door and heading back to bed, but my delirium kicked back in. I thought, heck I already opened the door, I might as well speak my peace. So my brief monologue began voice cracking and groggy, as I was at the brink of going completely nutty.

'I'm really sorry, but I have to go to work in a couple of hours. Are you guys going to be done soon?'

He assured me that he had contacted the hotel manager, who was currently locating the room key and that they would be done soon. There was no way we could fall back asleep now. After laying in bed for an hour, listening to the officers finally get into the room and search all the cabinets and drawers, our hotel neighbor was sitting in the back of the Dublin Police squad car after they found some ounces of a controlled substance in his red, 1995 Camaro.

All I thought after that was two things. 1. Why didn't they come during the daytime, I wasn't in immediate danger and needed all the good REM cycle sleep I could get. And 2. This would never happen to me in Washington.

Recalculating...

When I drove down to California for the first time, seven years ago, all I had was my co-pilot Meagan, and a road atlas in which my dad highlighted the proper route, and circled main cities in which he thought I should get gas. Oh my how times have changed. The invention of the navigation system is amazing, although it will never be quite as accurate as that highlighted route. Sometimes, I think that in the long run, my navigation can actually be more debilitating than helpful. I rely on it so much, that I use it for some of the same locations weekly, and I don't think I have went a single day without using it since being in California. What this means, is that I'm not retaining the route, because I'm just doing whatever 'Andrew' tells me. Yep, I have a dude that gives me directions daily. Why? Because, I kept feeling like the girl was constantly nagging at me, or annoyed that she had to recalculate. 'Andrew' is just so much more understanding.

Relying on my navigation has caused me quite a few panicked moments. When Aaron was training me and one of the other sales reps, he drove the work truck to and from the hotel, and I was to drive separately and meet up with them at the different locations. This was all fine and dandy, until the day that the freeway I took to work everyday was closed, and I had no idea how to get to the warehouse any other way in order to meet up with them. So, I followed the detour off the adjoining freeway and tried to bring up the warehouse on my navigation, but then my navigation couldn't find me... 'You are not on a road...' Once it did find me, it kept telling me to get on an on-ramp that was blocked off and closed... 'Recalculating...' I figured out how to select detour on my phone, but it continued to route me to the next closed on-ramp... 'Recalculating...' So, there I am, in a location I know next to nothing about, at 4:20am... 'Recalculating...' And as I continued driving around in circles, trying to be found by my navigation, the gas light turned on. Awesome. I was lost, possibly in the ghetto (everything is a little more scary when it's dark outside), my navigation is refusing to get it's act together, and now I have to get gas. Luckily, while I was driving in circles for a good fifteen minutes, I drove by the same Chevron station multiple times. I didn't need my navigation to find that.

My new method of getting from Point A to Point B is; bring up the navigation, remember the directions it gives you, and then pay attention to all the landmarks while driving. This method has helped me greatly. Now, if the freeway is closed, I know exactly how to get to the warehouse, as well as most other cities on my route.

Happy Anniversary!

Let me preface this post by saying that last year, Aaron and I had the most amazing wedding anniversary. We went down to Phoenix and Scottsdale, AZ on a golf trip. On our actual anniversary, we went to the Boulders Resort for dinner, where we were served complimentary champagne and given menus signed by the chef. It was such a cool experience, and I remember saying that night, 'This is going to be hard to top next year!'

Well, now it's 'next year.' Not only did we not top last year's anniversary celebration, we didn't even make it to the first hash mark. Although we were still 'slumber partying,' Brian was awesome, and took me to go get a card the day of. At the end of our work day, we headed back to the hotel to meet Aaron, where I gave him his card. When we got there, I was expecting some flowers possibly or at least a card for me. After discussion, he apparently didn't have as much time as he thought he did before Brian and I made it back to the hotel. Aaron and I had went shopping the weekend previously, and finally purchased a wedding band to go along with my wedding ring, that is gorgeous, and I love, but I still thought I would get a card on our actual anniversary. No card, okay, how about dinner? Nope. About an hour after we got back to the hotel, we got a phone call to all head back down to the warehouse to unload pallets of product off a semi-truck. If you are a person that is warehouse savvy, you're thinking that this should take maybe 30 minutes with a forklift. Well, no forklift had been purchased for the warehouse yet, and although the Washington warehouse manager informed the delivery company that we did not have a forklift, the company still managed to load the truck with only half of the pallets facing the correct direction. So, on my wedding anniversary, I woke up at 5am, to conclude my day by helping to unload a semi-truck with pallet jacks, until around 7pm. No fancy dinner, no plans, no card. Just me, two boys, and 20 pallets of dried fruit, nuts, and trail mix.

P.S. -- If you read this Aaron... I love you, and I'm still waiting patiently for my card :)