Happy Golden Birthday, Mr. Wookie!!

And how else are we spending his birthday?  Well for the moment we're still in bed.  Downing water, and for him some Ibuprofin, thanks to the birthday shots that were not in order last night.  He maintains it's all for prevention, but we'll see when he stands up though.  I'm in tip-top shape though.  Because I'm awesome.  And all Gings have the working liver of a 50-year Scotsman.

Last night started with a nice dinner at one of our favorite fancy places.  The heat index along yesterday called for cotton and a dress to allow ventilation to the legs.  What I didn't ask for was enough wind to recreate Marilyn's air grate pose.  Not cool, Mother Nature.  Dinner was delicious and so we moseyed to our bar for a beverage before heading home for the night.

And with going to "our bar" came the need stay there until Midnight.  I guess I can put off my 10pm bedtime for one night.  The lesbian band was playing (it's like a mini Lilith Fair) so I was game.  I'd like to think I'm an honorary lesbian based on the facts that I knew/loved damn near every song they played, I love Birkenstocks, short hair cuts, dogs, hiking, trying to fix my own car, and the understanding that men are not always a necessary item in life.

But back to the festivities.

Before we got our first drink, we had a shot.  And before the night was over, there was a Jameson shot in front of me.  So by "Happy Birthday Mr. Wookie" it encompasses me also.  Oh, great.  How does this make sense?  But okay, bottoms up.  And I take it like a champ.  Then 30 seconds later I feel the hair growing on my peaches.  And I think some chest hair sprouted.  Gotta love the Irish.

And of course the night was capped with the worst health decision ever.  Greasy pizza.  But I maintained that I wanted to get it to go so I could eat in my underwear.  Because I didn't want to get stains on my dress.  Because that's how cohesive I think 2 drinks in (I totally milked them because they're of the 60/40 variety, 60% vodka, and I'm glad I did with the extra shots thrown in the mix).  So with our little take-out box, we moseyed home, turned on some Coach, scrounged some pizza, then called it a night.

But nevertheless, today is his birthday.  Today Mr. Wookie turns 25.  I'll make breakfast and coffee when he finally gets vertical.  Who knows how long that'll take.  Hopefully before Noon.

So I'll just tell him how awesome he is via blog.

While our running has been suspended since the heat index has risen, I'm hoping he's on board for potentially more running in the future on the West Coast.  That and this little gem of a race is in my sights for next year.

I love him for all things macho.  Movies, steak, and guns.  Without guns, he wouldn't know how awesome of a shot I am.  But then he wouldn't feel emasculated because of my accuracy.  So I guess this one is really a double-edged sword.

I love this boy for his nerdiness.  He's capable of sitting in that chair and reading for hours.  So come the random times when we unplug from technology as a whole, we're a great match in the enjoying of books and beverages.  Because that's so a Mew-garita in his glass.

Mr. Wookie's come to love my state as much as me.  So when it comes time to get out of the Navy (whenever that may be), we know we'll call Oregon home again.  Which is great because I really do miss having someone pump my gas for me.  I don't have to get out, get my hands dirty, and it costs maybe a few cents more per gallon. This is totally worth it.

Happy Birthday to the man who truly enjoys his job.  And his butt looks great in that flight suit.

I just want to thank him for all the fun in our travels, whether for Navy business or pleasure.  Napa Valley or Disney World, Washington D.C. or New Orleans, it's been fun and I'm excited for this next road trip.  Not the short amount of time we get to experience, but the notion that we're going back to a coast where we better fit in. 

And your friends kill me.  Especially their sparkly gold Vespa helmets.

You have great taste in beer and I can't wait until our home brewing can start back up.  It's a great hobby for you so let's see where it takes us.

So Happy Birthday to you!  You're a champion for putting up with my signing-up-for-random-race antics.  I promise there will be more of that in California.  Because there's no humidity there.  And no humidity = non-bitching Ging.  And a non-bitching Ging is a happy Ging.  And happy Gings come from California.