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.
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