Goodbye 2010, Hello 2011

We've got less than 4 hours now until we start writing our rent checks with the new year.

And I've got a headache.  And I haven't even started champagne-ing it yet.  So down with 2 ibuprofens, a boat ton of water, and Mr. Wookie at the bar making White Russians with some homemade kahlua.  Frozen pizza is in the oven.  Because who needs fancy dinner parties with black ties and cocktail dresses.  I've got my feet kicked up on the coffee table, shopping Crate and Barrel and Overstock for any necessary items I've missed off my Christmas list, and I'm still reading over my owner manual for the Nikon.

This year was a great one for Wookie & Co.

In 2010, we finished 365 days of living with each other.  And you know what?  It's kinda fun living with your best friend.  When the Navy allows, I get a dinner buddy, a Jeopardy buddy, and a snuggle buddy.  And when the Navy needs him, I get an empty condo that doesn't complain about breakfast for dinner, shoes on the coffee table, and not changing out of pajamas on the weekends.

In 2011, I'd like to learn to love California just a bit more.  We're still reminiscing about the great times in Virginia, and we'd like to create some memories while out West.  We dream about buying in the Ghent part of Norfolk, about expanding our family with furry animals, and settling roots professionally (for me, which is a good thing).  Despite the pitfalls to California, the economy, and the ass-raping for rent, we're motivated to love it here.  If not, there's always moving...in 3 years...thanks to the Navy.

In 2010, I failed to hit any sort of a running resolution as I was sidetracked by vacations, moves, and other needs.  But I ran a half marathon, so I look at that as an awesome accomplishment.  And at least I read 22.5 books this year (I'm halfway through The Last Christian)...although it also fell short of my 24 books on the year for a reading resolution.

I look at it that I read 22 books.  Isn't the national average like 6 books a year?  And yes, this may pale in comparison to other speed readers, but I'm a picky reader.  I'm not a fan of fiction (call it burn-out from a Bachelor's in English).  And I learned something from everything I picked up.  So I'm looking on the upside.

In 2011, I'd like to continue to read 20+ books a year as I think it's a way of enjoying my 'me time' away from Real Housewives, Teen Mom, and 16 & Pregnant.

The New Year will be a good one for us.  We'll wait and see.

The great Christmas of 2010

Could it have been a better Christmas?  Well technically, yes.  It could have snowed.  But that came 5 days later as the weird parts of Oregon even got snow (this includes the hometown).

But we took what we could.  A Christmas where Mr. Wookie joined my family, we had the nephew out of utero, and the parental units consider Baby Sister a legal drinker (we like this).

In all honesty, this will go down as a Christmas for the ages.

Let's introduce our traditions first.  You must model your present before you open it, and dispel who's the giver.  You may put down your 90% champagne/10% orange juice mimosa in order to accomplish this.  If you can do both, high five.  If you can do both while refilling my glass...double high five.

Wearing Beaver gear to Christmas, always a good idea.  Despite our inability to make a bowl game this year.

Presents are opened from youngest to oldest.  We go one person at a time.  And we clap after each present like we're witnessing the PGA tour (unless Little Man is napping, then we snap like it was Open Mic Night at the Poetry Garden).

One person is dedicated to holding Little Man so he doesn't take all the ornaments off the bottom 2 feet of tree, that he doesn't try to eat a bulb, and that he doesn't strangle himself with ribbon.  And also, he needs help with presents.  Dexterity's not there.

Gifts ranged from extremely useful (like new sneakers, kitchen bowls, cutting board, Beaver gear, and slippers) to ooooo-I-didn't-need-this-but-I-LOVE-it!

Here I am clapping for Dominos.

Unwrapping presents takes some time.  There's mini-stops for breakfast.  There's mini-stops for recycling breaks.  And there's mini-breaks for mimosas.  Okay, a few more than necessary.

No, really, we recycle everything.

This is one of those wasn't-on-the-Christmas-list-but-I-LOVE-it gifts.  We're talking heavy-duty polypropylene bags.  Love.  Thank you Brother and Amber!!

Then Little Man roused from his nap...

And was hungry (huh, sounds like a familiar redhead I know...)

Sometimes the ribbon on the damn box is so tight...you get a double-chin...but remember, I got sneakers for Christmas...so say goodbye to the double-chin.  Soon.

But then Mr. Wookie decides to one-up me to infinity and beyond...

He says he loves me.  He says he thinks of more ways to keep me in his life.  I think he's full of it.  I don't need a fancy camera for him to tell me he loves me.  But it was on my will-purchase-in-2011-with-my-tax-refund-money list.  So he jumped the gun.  I can't express how much this means to me.  He really went above and beyond what was necessary in making this Christmas worth it.  Handsome, you really are the best to me.  You shouldn't have.  But in all honesty, this is so awesome.  High five.  And now pose for me.  No more grumpy gilling for the camera.  It's big-boy camera time.

Mrs. Wookie's To-Do List

1.) Blog about Christmas.


2.) Confirm with the parental units whether I left my camera cord in Oregon.


3.) Blog about Mr. Wookie's amazeballs gift.


4.) Confirm my love for my state courtesy of Baby Sister and Middle Sister.


5.) Pick up my Birkenstocks at the local Birk store.


6.) Visit Middle Sister in Pasadena to collect remaining Christmas gifts.


7.) Launch Middle Sister's wedding planning blog (Excited!  Another blogger!)


8.) Help Baby Sister revamp her blog (More excitement!)


9.) Solidify New Year's resolution.


10.) Jazz up my blog...because I don't want to be left out!


11.) Wait patiently for BareNecessities.com shipment to arrive (yay, bras!)


12.) Wait patiently for Gap.com/OldNavy.com shipment to arrive (yay, tall clothes!)


13.) Purchase new sports bras at Dillard's (thank you gift card!)


14.) Buy stamps.

It's good to be home.

Traveling for the holidays is never easy.  Especially when you're packing for 3 different climates, 2 states, and only want to pay one checked-bag fee.

The good...

We made it home to California.  AND there were live turtles to greet us.  We auto-fed them, auto-heat lamped them, and thank goodness, they auto-loved us when we got home.

We airport shuttled home (it costs $30 to park at LAX each day, or $12 at some off-site creepy lots each day), which allowed us to nap our asses home.  What's better than being dropped off at your doorstep?  Well...besides waking up mid-traffic because the start-stop-slam-gas-stop-barf-inducing effects are more than your inner ear can handle...  Nothing.  For half the price of parking your car, you can get a ride there...and roll in a molester van in style.

I slept most of the flight.  Mr. Wookie did not.  Instead he slept most of the shuttle ride home (which was about 2 hours...because we don't exactly live close to the airport).

The bad...

The traffic yesterday morning was unbearable.  Because of the deluge of water, the PCH was closed because of a mud slide.  WTH?  We leave for 2 weeks and California goes to shit.  Okay, technically, it just slides down further on the the scale.  Because there's rumors that they'll be asking the government for another bailout.  And not just a bucket for the water...

I may have forgotten my uploading cord for my Sony Cybershot at my parents (Mom, can you check around, it's a cord that looks like a Cat 'n 9 Tails.  It's black.  Maybe 2' long.  Thanks!).

Because we packed light, and Christmas was an onslaught of possessions, we had to leave some at my parents' home to be trekked down with Middle Sister.  We'll be nabbing these on Sunday from Pasadena.  Thank you Middle Sister!

The ugly...

Our house was a whopping 63 degrees when we came home last night.  I might as well have worn home my snow pants and jacket because there were icicles off my nose as soon as we opened the door.

After suffering through 48-hours of illness last week, the mucus is catching up with me.  I have a wad o' snot lingering off the back side of my sinuses...that won't slide down...instead it's on my gag reflex...and no amount of hocking will dislodge it.  Good thing Mr. Wookie's not home (get it? 'snot home....'), because he'd leave me.  And take his Christmas gifts with him...

And before we left, we decided to do the "We'll deal with the fridge after we get home" option.  And now...well...the whole thing needs to be cleaned.  Because 1 zucchini after 2 weeks looks like a green, furry slug in the drawer.  And that's not appetizing.  Unless you're a green, furry slug eater.  I'm not.

Regular blogging will recommence after we've recovered from today's laundry, cleaning, and relaxing.  And after my second cup of coffee.

Priorities...

Final Christmas Wishes

We've just finished all the wrapping at the last minute.  The last minute being 1:43am.  Because there's nothing  about being "on time" that runs in our family's creed.  Instead, it's procrastination meets I-can't-find-the-right-thing slash oh,-we'll-wait-until-later-and-watch-more-bowl-games.

My last Christmas wish...just something off my list.  I'm a very simple person.  And my list is always decked from the generic and inexpensive to the outlandish ($62 sports bras, anyone?).  So as long as I get something from that list, this year is another success.

So here's our family's tree in all it's final-stage glory.  So in approximately 9 hours, it will be destroyed.  Merry Christmas to all.  Blessings to all.

Merry Christmas Eve to all!!

From the bottom of this blogger's heart, I hope you're having the best holiday season life can bring you.  But it wouldn't be a Wookie & Co. Christmas, with a little snarky holiday behavior.  And cocktails.  Because I have a reputation to uphold.

It's been 3 years since I've been home for Christmas.  2008 was spent in Ohio with Mr. Wookie's dad's side of the family.  2009 was spent in Virginia because Mr. Wookie had the second leave period to the break in flight school.  So now we're back.  Well, I'm back.  Mr. Wookie's joining us for his first Christmas with my family (I know, it's been some time!).  Let's hope we don't scare him with our Griswald celebrations of Christmas.  At least there's no one here to come in saying, "Shitter's full!"

Like any good arrival into the airport, you need an embarrassing sign (Baby Sister posed crankily for this sign and said, "If you made me a gay ass sign, I'd break up with you."  She was joking.  I think.).  Done.  And good thing his flight was only delayed 8 minutes.  Otherwise I may have been cranky.  Because I had to leave my champagne glass at home.  A gigantic thank you to Mr. Wookie's family for loaning him to us this year.

Merry Christmas from Baby Sister's teeth.

Then Middle Sister had a surprise for Mama Ging.  Home-made stockings since the family is enlarging with births, engagements, splicings, and genetic mutations to the family's moles.

Now it's time to gorge.  While taking in the best movie of the year, A Christmas Story.  And more champagne in celebration of the holiday season.  And pajamas soon.  But not too soon.  There's still a half a bottle of champagne to drink.  And each holiday season needs a martyr.  I guess I'll fulfill that role.  Again.  I think Mr. Wookie will too.

I love me some car singing.

Please enjoy.  Because I did.  About a half dozen times.

And Happy Holidays to you and yours.  And let me know if you have any car singing videos to share with me.  Air instruments count as extra points.

He's so cute when he lies.

This morning I woke up not feeling 100%.  The nose was running a little more than just-allergies, a sore right side of my throat, and I needed some drugs to stop it before it progressed into a bigger illness.  I'm thinking it was the change from dry mountain air to dreary, rainy harbor weather.


Thank you local GNC for the drugs, Zinc lozenges, and no sales tax.


We ran a few errands on the day, but after I got back...I was feeling a bit more wiped than I wanted to feel.  So I told Mr. Wookie to wake me at 4:30pm.  It was 3:49pm.  I wanted to nap just a bit to recharge.  That's all.  Sleep does a body good.


At 5:30pm, Mr. Wookie wakes me.


"Why didn't you wake me at 4:30pm??"
"Because you looked so peaceful sleeping."
Awwwww.  He's so cute.


But then I thought about it.
"So did I not wake up when you tried??"
"Nope.  Not at all."


As usual, Mrs. Wookie sleeps like a tranquilizer'd buffalo.

The lazy side of Christmas...

My dearest blogger in Olympia wants us to show her our Christmas....

But first let's preface.  Christmas trees in California cost more than labioplasty in Beverly Hills.  We're not going to be around on actual Christmas day, so what the heck is the point?  We're in the Navy, and I love to not have lots of possessions to trump around to every corner of the country, so we like to have little decorations make a big effect.

So without further adieu...

Our fire place.  End scene.

We don't have stockings because we've never gotten around to it.  But this is our Christmas-scape.  One strand of lighted garland in all its glory.  Simple but festive.

When you don't have a garage to hold the bazillion decorations a house can have for Christmas, you tend to purposely have a light load.  And because I don't ever want to be on Hoarders because of toy soldiers, candy cane pathway lights, replacement bulbs from 1956, and some wrapping paper that may have lead paint as an ingredient, we keep it simple.

Now give me a few days when I'll be at my parents' house for the second half of the holidays.  It makes up for what we lack.  And then some.

Back from the weekend...

If it were any other weekend, we'd be hitting the slopes, drinking in the evenings, and recovering from the severely low weather that's inhabiting the area.

Instead, we spent this weekend getting ready for a wedding, attending a wedding, surviving a reception, and avoiding the prerequisite morning-after feeling of cold toilet seat and garter belts that plague the young crowds at weddings.

The best of wishes to the bride and groom.  The wedding was beautiful, the reception amazing, the food DELICIOUS, and my date: hot shit. But I'm partial, that's all.

I also wished I had snowshoes.  (Come on, "Santa!")

The view from the Inn...gorgeous.  The pictures will be amazing despite the FRIGID temperatures that are in the area. It's steadily below 30.  There's a reason why lesbians don't shave their legs: warmth.  Damn for being hetero...

Proof we attended a wedding...

Groom...

Bride...

For some reason my damn flash went off...The wedding was about 45 attendees, 4 attendants total, and because the wedding was delayed 30 minutes..........the bar opened early.  Amen.

Fantabulous...

We avoided every, "So you're next" or "When are you two getting married?" or "Has he even proposed yet?" or "How long have you been together?" or "How come no kids?" or (insert more questions because there was quite the interest in us)...and like any good PR team, we avoid comments like the best of them.  Deny, deny, deny.  Then secretly let them know you actually got married 2 years ago and you're just not telling anyone.  Are we lying or are we not??  Muhahahhaa.

One vodka tonic and one name tag.

And one box o' favorage.  M&M's.  Chocolate...never a bad thing.

So when will nuptials occur for the Wookie & Co. household?  When people stop asking.  And then maybe we'll blog about it.  But most likely not.  Because that would give away our secret.  And the vague cloud of mystery is more entertaining.

Winter Wedding Weekend

The reason we're in Washington.  Nuptials.  Not Wookie & Co.  Come on...

Mr. Wookie's cousin is getting married today, so we've brought our best snow-gear-capable wedding wear (a suit for Mr. Wookie, a pencil skirt and velour, stacked heels for Mrs. Wookie) to take on the marital union.  And the reception.  Especially the bar.

So yesterday we loaded up the truck for the mountains.  I packed a pastrami sandwich and some peanut butter crackers, grabbed an iced tea from McDonald's and prayed to not have to be "that person" who starts with the I have to go to the bathroom....Are we there yet?....He's looking at me!

And Duke made the excursion as well.  Duke is the Italian greyhound with a pension for redheaded affection. He's attached to me.  Lays next to me, wants to nap curled all up on me, and had the ability to shove his tongue in my ear canal.  It's love I tell you.

Leaving behind the low-lying harbor of Washington, we ventured up in elevation to the snow.  And it's fantastic.  All I need now are my snowshoes (how are those coming, "Santa?").  And a thicker coat.  At least to venture out for more than the walk-to-the-car-and-walk-to-wedding-site.  But we'd need bigger suitcases for that sort of a winterland trek.  That'll be Martin Luther King weekend.

Upon arrival, we graced our livers with a little microbrew action.  Doesn't Mr. Wookie look cute?  Okay, maybe it's me.  Okay, it's probably just me.  I mean, who else can handle his videogame habits?  Or his pension for a Scotch that can order it's own Scotch?  Or appreciate his avoiding of weddings unless there's a bar?  But I'm attached.

And right now the snow is picking up.  Big ol' flakes.  We woke up to some flurries, but this action is much more our taking.  And all we need now is Kahlua for our hot chocolate.  Here Mr. Wookie is taking in the wonder...in his pajamas...and his bedhead.  But we need to get moving so we can scrounge some breakfast at the Lodge.  After all, no one likes a cranky, breakfast-starved Mrs. Wookie.  No one.

This is what the holiday break is about...

When in Rome the Pacific Northwest, you drink amazeballs beer selection.  And when the best selection is at Ft. Lewis Army base, you show your ID to the gate, drive on through, then skip through the aisles like you re-believe in Santa Claus.  Then ask for a box because your purchases weigh more than VW bug.  Slug bug!

Hallelujah like a Southern Baptist choir.  Raise the roof!  Oh Lawd!!!!

Then we mosey'd south to Cabela's.  Being from Oregon, I have some inner redneck that is a force to be reckoned with.  Plus the weather here was a bit more than I packed for, so I was curious if I could score a Helly Hansen fleece for an awesome place.  And that's a 'no.'  The prices were higher than I wanted, plus no Helly Hansen (HH has long sleeves and torsos, which is a good thing for this tall Ging).

No Mama Ging, this doesn't mean something else for my Christmas list.  But speaking of Christmas lists, I got a call from the Birkenstock store.  My shoes are in.  And I-assume beautiful.  And $130.  And if you don't get them, I'll buy them myself.  So don't worry if they fall through.

Tangent over.  Sorry readers.  Just a little business.

Mr. Wookie looked as some gloves.  Some $130 gloves.  Because apparently they're made of spun gold, the virginity of 1,000 concubines, and instant weight loss via the LapBand.

But thank goodness Mr. Wookie is sane and opted to not get them.

Smart man.  I may have killed him.  After Christmas.  I want my gifts after all.

Theeeeeeen there were some margaritas.  Just a little.  Only 18 ounces worth.  And a float of Grand Marnier. And a billion times of happiness.  Along with my proper drinking habits of pinky up.  Cheers.


And what's a holiday break without some pampering?  Because it had been awhile since pedicures.  I'm talking here.  That long.  Considering the Symbiote surfaced this Tuesday (Hi Holden Lee!).

My hideous toes in all their glory.  They had been painted a couple months ago.  But let's just say boredom, job stalking and applying, and drinking myself to sleep had taken priority.

"California something" polish color.  Photographer played by Mama Wook.

And what's a pedicure without some juicy trashy magazine action??


After pedicures I was feeling the need to get out of the house.  So when in Small Town, Washington, the best play to play around would be Target (and the crowd goes wild!!!!).

Electronics department it is.

But then things went ghetto.  Because I didn't want to funk up my newly painted nails, I wore those stylish thin-ass slippers around like I belonged in low-income housing.  Then the left one broke.  So I was left limping like Igor around Target for the rest of the trip.  High class.  Mr. Wookie tried to fix it, but to no avail.  It's true love when your beloved tries to fix your free flip-flop so you don't have to walk out of Target barefoot.


And for the record, there weren't any flip flops for sale in this Target.  Because it's Washington.  In December.  And most sane people wear real shoes.  So the marketing effort towards Gings who live in California but walk around barefoot in Washington is low.  Unless they're hiring.  Because I know someone...


And should you wonder what sort of songs bring Mr. Wookie into the spirit...


"Ohhhhh, the weather outside is frightful...
But the holiday beard is delightful...
And since there's no place to go...
[Mr. Wookie stumps, so I step in]


Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow!"


All donations for the Wookie & Co. duet can be made to our Travel Fund.

But to warm up my feet and my soul.  This fantabulous piece of Alaskan action came home with me from the Army "Class Six" (liquor store).  A barley wine with the pension to kick my ass, call me Shirley, and make me plead for my mommy.  Or Mr. Wookie's mommy.


As long as it doesn't ruin my pedicure.  Although that may be a good thing.  Because who doesn't love a good foot rub??

What's it take to get a vacation from this blog???

Sometimes creativity lacks me.  Sometimes it fails me.  Sometimes my morning "happy sauce" (coffee) leaves me unmotivated.  And sometimes I have better things to do.  Like have a cocktail, watch us some Jeopardy, have another cocktail, realize it's extremely late, we leave the next day, and we haven't packed yet.

Totally normal.

So let's get packing.  But first, Mr. Wookie is a champion and BLASTS the Mariah Carey Christmas.  Because our neighbors were gone.  Minus the ones upstairs.  But they can suck it.  Because Mariah Carey is only good to listen to during Christmas.  And never to look at.  Shudder. 

This time we took an airport shuttle down to LAX because it was cheaper to do that than park our car for $30 a day at the nightmare of an airport for Los Angeles county.  Best thing: Napping on the ride down because I only got 3 hours of sleep (I woke up at 3:17am with a freakin' snotty nose).

But thanks to a not-full flight, I got to stretch out on 2 seats while Mr. Wookie played videogames on the aisle seat.  Then my ass woke up to this beautiful city.  Where I proceeded to harass this blogger that I brought the sunshine.  Apparently weather was lackluster before we arrived.  Ashley, you're welcome.

Thank goodness our TPS cover letter reached Mr. Wookie's parental units that we were starving.  And by "we," I mean me.  Because airport food is never very fulling. Mainly because you feel empty both emotionally and financially when they rape you $4 for a pack of peanuts that'll only cause you to have an allergy.  And they don't even say they're sorry.

Then the weather turned sour again as we got hit with a massive hailing.  Thank goodness we packed our snow gear.  Because real Californians would have died.  "Omg, it's so cold."  We're like, "Omg, where are our snowshoes!  (I sure hope "Santa" has been able to find them!  He's been having difficulty.  Despite the elves in Northern Oregon trying to help as well.  Thanks Collin and Katie.)

Said hail storm.  This was before my set of extensive cat naps on the couch while the rest of the family watched Inception.  I was in and out of consciousness more than Terry Schiavo.  What?  Wrong?  But I love vegetables!  And this day is a new day as we have needs of online shopping, real-time shopping, enjoying breakfast, having our second cup of coffee, and watching Mr. Wookie continue his videogaming habits as if we never left California.  I guess he didn't get the TPS cover letter that Christmas break is meant for family, not just holiday-beard growing.

Engaged Middle Sister, WHAT?!??

Once upon a time I was getting my "mindhole blown."  No, this is not the latest dance craze, stripper move, or newfound sushi.   It's called Inception, and I was told it was amaze-balls.  So I'm concentrating, I'm getting it...then my phone blows up.  Last night...

Middle Sister is engaged.  To Dane.  While at some pier in Southern California (dude, why so far???).  Because he had some extra student loan money burning a hole in his pocket and he felt the need for some diamonds in size 6 (am I right, Middle Sister?  Or do you have fatty knuckles like Mom and wear a size 7?).

Needless to say, Inception took a pause.

So then I took the Personal Communications 215 approach..."So it'll be a Santa Barbara wedding, right??"  (I so don't want to travel.)

That's a 'no.'  Damn.

But at least I get what I want out of it.  An open bar.  Because nothing says "wedding" like a huge stash of all my favorite liquids.  And plenty of Jersey Shore fist-pumping.  And not being in the wedding party.  It's not that I don't want to be in the wedding party.  It's more like there'll be plenty of ladies up there, and I'd rather sit during the ceremony, plus I don't like crowds...and who know what the dress will look like (haha, just kidding!).  And someone has to sit next to Mr. Wookie.  And having someone drive us home.

And the kicker: Baby Sister will be legal.  #Score.

Middle Sister in all her glory.  Now tell her how jenky her hair looks in the comments.  Because she keeps blaming it on the wind, but we all know her bathing habits resemble Billy Bob Thornton 10 years back.  Even before Angie Jolie.  And her billion kids.

Oh, and tell Middle Sister how much you love cupcake towers, birdcage veils, poofy sleeves, and only having 1 attendant.  Oh, and the budget is $1,000.00.  She'll love you.  And by "love you" I mean she'll spite your soul and send 100 redheads to torture your soul.  She means business.  After all, who's better to torture your day than a redhead (blogger) or two.