Surviving a Winging Party 314

As I mentioned before, the Winging is a ceremony that is followed by Drunk Fest '09.

This Winging, no different from another ceremony.

This time it was held at our watering hole: Snappers. Since the boys were in control of the location, it might as well be where most of us live and not in some far-off bar in Virginia Beach.

There was live music. Our favorite bartenders working. A good showing of people. Very stiff drinks. And lots of family and friends.

I even met a guy from Roseburg, Oregon, of all places!

It started out with dinner with the family, where they got to experience the excellent calamari that we rave over at Snappers. And to say a few drinks were had is an understatement. The Sheriff, alone, had 7 gin and tonics over the night. And a beefy cigar.

I lost track at my drink count. But I remember all the night, which is great.

And sadly I only took a handle of pictures. I was way too busy mingling, watching one husband get way too drunk to function, hear about Wook having to pour said husband into the vehicle that took him (but that was after this one husband was having digestive regurgitations in a corner in the bar), listen to the live music, talk football with the fellow Pac-10ers (from USC), and not counting my drinks.

Here's Wook's mug in all its glory. The boys are part of the "Mug Club." It's an invite-only group of Snappers regulars. And for those who know the show "Three Sheets," this is his Pleeplius Kong. Now, you, drink.

The night was a legen...dary one. Around 1:30am was last call. At 2:00am, Tiffany and Erin (our bartenders) start kicking everyone out. At 2:15am, this butt-puppet tries to buy another drink. Tiffany has to get angry. And to see a sweet North Carolina girl get angry was cute at best.

At 2:16am, we head outside so they can lock the doors and start their massive clean-up operation. It's pouring outside. There's about 8-10 of us there. One instructors recommends Bugatti's - this skeeeeeeeezy after-hours club. We've heard if you end your night there, you're making a big mistake. So I bid Wook adieu as I'm not crossing that threshold.

I head home, put in How I Met Your Mother, grab some pumpkin pie from Thanksgiving, and call it a night. Wook comes home 20 minutes after me, having not gone to Bugatti's, made a quesadilla, and watched HIMYM also. But that was after I fell asleep. It was a long night.

But overall, it was a great night. And the first time a Winging Party closed down their venue. Points for my boys. They're trained drinkers. I'm proud of them. Both their livers and their Wings. I love my boys.

Those Beautiful Wings of Gold!

It's a long road traveled. A long road not envied. A long road of learning.

For Mr. Wookie, it's not the path he originally wanted. He initially selected Surface, as to be on board a ship, hopefully in the great city of San Diego. I liked it too. I love San Diego.

Then the Navy said, "Nope!" We need more air than surface. Pensacola, you go!

So with a groan, he shipped off to Florida. Life not expected. To me, Florida not desired.

Then came the crashing of his world, he didn't get his P-3 slot. We wanted Whidbey. We counted on Whidbey. But the P-3 slot went to the guy with the lowest grades. Wook's world was crushed. What next? This E-2 aircraft. It's a plane with a dome on it. Not exactly a sexy piece of machinery. But if this E-2 means getting out of Florida, by all means. Let's do it.

And so he did. He got E-2s. Moving out of Florida, commenced. I like it.

So here we are, 2 and a half years after Commissioning, getting those Wings. I say, "we" but we all know it was him. I was just the supportive attachment through all this. Those pesky phone calls. The trips out to see him. The checking in on his status of first Whidbey, and then Virginia. The care packages. The constant blogging about him. Then the moving in with him.

But we're here. And it feels great. Next stop: Well, more class. Unlike the other aircraft, Wings doesn't mean you're done. It means, "Yay, you can technically do your job, but let's spend another 6 months making you better." Besides, more school equals more time before that first deployment. I'll take it.

So we're here. I like it. Another proud day of watching him. And although some family wasn't able to make it out, they can't say they weren't missed. I wanted everyone to be there.

So here's Proud Dad putting on this "Wings of Gold" onto that dapper blue uniform.

And like other parents, they were a bit hard to handle. But take your time, I'm enjoying this.

And because the CDR moved in the shot, he's a bit blurry. Oh well, his problem, not mine.

And with the Wings comes the pouring of beer in his mug. Then the drinking of said beer.

And because Mama Ging had a great idea. We started taking pictures in front of the Christmas tree. Then everyone jumped in line for this. I should have started charging a fee.

Yay, he looks so good. But I'm very partial. Very over-6-years-together partial.

So in got his half-sister Taylor, and Proud Dad in the shot. Great family photo, I think.

Group shot! Me, Taylor, Proud Dad, and Grandmoose! We were all very proud.

And what's a Navy ceremony without a picture of the Living Saint Sally (Joe's mom)?

One very relieved, getting rehydrated Mr. Wookie and his Wings of Gold. So handsome!

Class shot! Thank goodness the weather held out last week so the boys were able to get their Winging Flights done. No Winging Flights equals no Wings. So, thanks Nor'Easter for your slight delaying of their progress, but it worked out in the end. Nice try, Mother Nature.

And because Wook's Mom couldn't be there, she had a cake secretly delivered instead.

Wook, smile for your mother. Not like that. She's going to kill you. What a shmuck.

Then comes the Winging Party. Definition: Drunk Fest '09. Real Definition: All graduates pool together money to throw a party in their honor. All students, instructors, family and friends, and Big Cheese are invited. Drunkness pursues. So stay tuned!

Survival: Winging Party

I still need some time to rehydrate and rejuvenate after last night. It was legen...dary.

Now I can say I've survived a Winging Party. And I've been to others before. But this put the icing on the cake by being the best one I've been to. Biased? Of course.

But first, more breakfast. I'm like a Hobbit. I need 2 breakfasts. Jealous.

The One Time Roses Weren't An Over-rated Flower

In the normal world, roses are an over-rated flower. Everything thinks they mean the world, but when the world is so marketed...they lose their luster, in my opinion. But once every half-century, roses make a new meaning in my eyes. This new meaning: football. Specifically: Oregon State football. For the first time in the history of the Civil War (no, not that war with those pesky Southerners - but one of the top longest-running rivalries in the history of college football), the Rose Bowl was on the line. And like every year, it's a cut-throat match of great football.

And this year was no different. It was a great showing. And the announcers had it right, that who ever had the ball last would win. It was an emotional game. A loud game. Some injuries on our side (including a painful-looking broken leg). And Erin Andrews on the sideline.

I won't watch the recaps. I won't read the reports. I won't analyze the articles. I'll remember staring intently at the screen. Cheering for our interception and fumble recovery, grimacing when Masoli would make a run, and stare confusedly at the screen when the player that was "suspended for the season" comes in to play the second half. Apparently my math was wrong. I thought "suspended for a season" was the full length of the schedule - all conference games. Not the definition of a "season minus one game." But I'm looking into Math classes at the local community college so I can correct this misstep, so no worries.

It was a great game. It could have been on a little earlier for us East Coast folks who stayed up way too late, wearing my great #8 jersey, and having a few beers. But still great.

So here we are ponying into the hotel lobby where my parents were staying. The manager gave us free range. And we even brought in beer. And we had control of the remote. Yes.

Beaver game beverages sponsored by St. George's Brewery from Hampton, Virginia.

Then comes halftime. And where do the men go? To the electronics station. Men.

The Sheriff's pulling up Tiger Woods jokes on the Beaver Boards. Some are pretty good.

And Wook's Dad's on Facebook. Gotta update the statuses. Guilty of that myself.

Mama Ging trying to send Middle Sister a picture text to show us watching the game.

Doesn't she look like she's saying, "Somebody put a label right over my face?" (Inside joke).

And the time is running out, slumpage and depression is starting to settle in. Poor Beavs.

Even the Buckeye fan thought it would have been fun to play the Beavs in the Rose Bowl.

So instead, the outcome is what it was. A great game. A game where both sides came prepared. And had there been more time, Canfield could have made some more beautiful deep passes. But alas, time ran out. They took a knee. So next stop: Maybe buying some Buckeye gear. But at least rooting for them. Go Ohio State!

Welcome to the Commonwealth

Thank you FlightAware.com for your assistance in stalking. However, when the weather gets shitty, you failed to keep me informed. With that, thank you Norfolk International for your excellent updated on the delayed flight out of Washington, D.C., containing Mama Ging and the Sheriff. I don't mind a slight delay of 20 minutes. When it's only 20 minutes.

Because I decided to make a sign during lunch, I was that person in the airport. If you look real closely, you can see hints of embarrassment as the family debates whether to walk past and ignore the weird-signed Ging.

And because of the lovely weather conditions of last night, my hair looks more man-handled, less lesbian cute. Oh well, maybe today will have a better outcome in pictures.

And we barely get the Sheriff checked into the hotel and he already breaks something.

Hello, interesting carpet. I kinda dig it. It beats the norm from UglyHotelCarpets.com.

And what's a visit from the parentals without a game of "Where's Poppy????"

Mama Ging actually trying miso soup. I'm impressed. She actually had a spoonful.

And the subsequent passing of the miso soup onto the Sheriff and myself, because we find the stuff delicious. Especially this place's. Thank you Domo Sushi on Granby St.

Mama Ging moving on to the salad, before her chicken yakisoba arrives - standard!

And the Sheriff didn't want to get up and wash his hands so we cheated the Purell way.

And a great thumbs up after having a piece of the New Yorker roll. It was very delish!

Baby Sister's Worst Nightmare

I knew we needed gas last night, but I didn't know how close we were calling it.

And if you ever want to see instant panic set in, just tell Baby Sister you're out of gas.

Yes, I Know I Need Therapy

You can tell I'm the Sheriff's daughter. Big eyes. Sasquatch-like height. Exceptional taste in PacNW beer. Love for Orange and Black. Ability to stalk flights.

Goodbye Oregon, hello U-da-ho. Land of potatoes and Napoleon Dynamite. Gosh.

Hello Nebraska! Land of corn, and...ummm...er...did I already say corn?

What up DC? Land of monuments, Mrs. O's wardrobe, Russia House, and the Metro.

Next stop: Norfolk, Virginia. The city beneath the incredibly large weather system.

And They're Leaving On A Jet Plane

Well that "half day and a wake up" has passed. And now it's Wednesday morning.

Yes!

Why am I excited???????

I have 2 intruders to this time zone. 2 people who are wiling to jump in that metal tube for the destination: Norfolk, VA. 2 people who you should know quite well.

Who??

Mama Ging and the Sheriff!!!!!

That's right!! Because of this whole Winging that's scheduled for Friday (more on that later), my parents thought it necessary to be there. And by there, I mean here. Yes! After all, they were there for Commissioning (June 2007), what's another short vacation to see me? Well, besides 2 connecting flights, 3 time zone jumps, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Itinerary:

Medford to Portland: 5:55am PST

Portland to Dulles: 7:47am PST

Dulles to Norfolk: 5:30pm EST

Scheduled touchdown time: 6:35pm EST.

And I sure do hope the Sheriff is a little dehydrated after his flight. Just a little. Prost.

That 4-Day Weekend Has Created A Monster

I don't want to do a damn thing today. I want to curl up back in my tiger-striped pajama pants and hit the snooze button until, say, Noon. Sleep makes me happy. Watching movies from bed while the rest of the world is at work makes me happy. I love cleaning in the morning, while it doesn't exactly make me ecstatic, it's better than doing it at night when there are cocktails to be had.

Today is no different. Well, it is kinda. First off, I was up at the butt-crack of dawn because I needed to move my car out of the parking garage before the evil arm was lowered and I am forced to pay the City of Norfolk copious amounts of fees because I technically parked my car in the parking garage since Wednesday evening. Am I a bad person? Heck no. I'm merely circumnavigating the system. I don't feel like paying the high fees it costs to put my car in the parking garage when I can park on the street next to the Bentley and Rolls Royce. So unfortunately today started a little early.

And with this extra hour-plus in my morning, I took the time to list out all my Christmas card recipients' addresses, along with corresponding card count (can't go over the amount I have, can we?). Well, I'm missing a good half of my addresses. Whether they're stuck in emails somewhere, or in Facebook messages, or those people have moved for the umpteenth time, I'd rather play Detective this morning and get all those address figured out than go to work.

I miss the days of laziness. The days where I'd wake up, make Wook coffee, do a load of laundry, hit the gym for an hour, come back, shower, throw the load of wash in the dryer, peruse the millions of recipe websites for dinner ideas, make lunch, take a stroll around town admiring the buildings, water, cute houses, and uneven sidewalks.

Now I wake up. Scrounge for a bowl of Cheerios. Maybe make coffee. Shower. Dry hair. Hopefully put make-up on. Dress like I'm going to the Republican National Convention. And try to get out the door by 8:20am. Am I successfully in these attempts? Usually. But there are the sometimes where I won't have time to put makeup on before I head out the door, so it has to come with me. There are the times when I don't have time or energy to iron my clothes, so I put on an all-black ensemble (like today), something that doesn't require ironing (like today), and I hope people don't ask if my Great Aunt Murna died (like today).

I guess it's a good thing my vacation time isn't valid until next year. Because I'd seriously debate not doing a damn thing today. Well minus going to the gym, doing some laundry, cleaning the shower, mopping the floor, putting away clean clothes, and making dinner. So it's technically doing something today, but it doesn't count since I'd be in pajamas.

I'm Pretty Sure 4-Day Weekends Are The Shit

I've never had such a recharge. It's been great. Absolutely no real responsibility since getting off work Wednesday. Minus not killing my house guests. But that wasn't too hard.

Since last Monday, I had Mommy McD invade with her 2 trolls. It was great. It was loud. It was tight. But it beats making her straight-jacket her children for the week while perusing Craigslist for fill-in husbands.

Would we do it again? Yes. With hopefully a bigger place to house the toys, laughs, head bonks, step stools, liquor, scary monsters, pretzels, shoe shine equipment, and coins.

So Monday looked like this: 9-5:30pm

And Tuesday looked like this: 9-5:30pm. No, wait, 6:00pm. No, make it 6:30pm.

And Wednesday looked like this: 9-4:59pm. I'm outta here!!!!!!!!!!

As no one felt like cooking the day before ultimate cooking, we hit up CPK.

Now while you depict this picture as Braxton taking a break from his coloring. I see a future valedictorian writing his acceptance letter to graduate school. Yes, all from this photo.

But Kenny seemed more entertained by the silverback gorilla that graced the table.

That night included movies, lounging, a couple adult beverages, and an early bedtime. And for Sarah, she heard wook stumble home from the bars around 12:30am, rummage around the kitchen for something, make his way up stairs, pop in Two Towers, crawl into bed, and pass out. I heard nothing. I felt another body in the bed when I woke up at 8am the next morning. Heavy Sleeper of the Year award right here. I'll work on my speech.

And what I thought was killer, was that the very next day was only Thursday. Holy shit, I love this. And I don't have to work on Friday. Can this get any better???

Oh wait, someone else is cooking the meal? Oh great, what time should I be over?

Amongst this delicious layout of food, I did nothing. I didn't touch, help make, or pull out of the oven any of the meals you see. Lazy? No. Delegational? Yes.

Now I did help put a serious dent in the wine. And I opened it too. That's points, right?

And my moment of glory: cleaning up. And can you read the apron?? It says, "Women Aren't People." And it's Wook's. I made it for him as a college graduation present. The men thought it was hysterical. The women thought different. Now you see why I have an apron on my Christmas list this year.

And I Thought Target Was Perfect

Target, you're usually my one stop for all things entertaining. Clothes, shoes, electronics, Christmas supplies, jewelry, bags, the Dollar Stop, and more. But this time, you failed me.

Oregon State University is located in Corvallis, Oregon. Not that smelly, destitute land 45 miles south. We have accredited programs in Nuclear Engineering, Forestry, and Pharmacy. That Vortex of Darkness has Hemp Growing 101, Dreadlocks 457, and What's Deoderant? 203.

Our uniforms incorporate our school colors: Orange and Black. That other place adds a new color and hideous pattern each year to their jerseys. No, really, what colors are they again??

Our football players get into local trouble because they stole a sheep from the research lab on campus.

Their players make national news by punching Boise State players after losing a game.

Oregon State University has such fine graduates as: Mama Ging's #2 Brother ('70-something), Brother ('03), myself and Mr Wookie (both '07), and Middle Sister ('10).

Thankfully I don't rely on Target for my Beaver Gear. Otherwise it'll cause blindness.

It's Beginning To Look A lot Like Christmas

If it were up to me, we'd skip Thanksgiving entirely. Nothing is more in the way of Christmas decorating than that one holiday that celebrates giving Small Pox blankets to the Natives.

"That's what they get for being on our land before we got to it." - Wook

So with a quick run to Kmart and Michael's, then back home, then a return trip to Kmart when we realized we bought one package of multi-color lights (both of us: FAIL!), then a pitstop at Panera for grub before returning back home and starting the onslaught.

And you know it's a good sign when Pandora's first Christmas song is Mariah. Yes!

Wook starting to put up the lights on the lower half of our windows. That's as far as he got. My simple request of making sure the lights all point inward thwarted his efforts. Apparently the lights were not cooperating with him. And since I was fighting heavily with the garland, I suggested a trade. And the trade went well.

My garland wrapped around the pole looked more like a 3rd grade science experiment. Wook's looked like he bitch-slapped Martha Stewart, shoved her down the stairwell, and took over her empire. He's that good.

And so I give you my finished product. Gorgoeous! I love it. And while I was perched up in the window sill, people would walk by and wave. I felt partially like a Macy's window display, and partially a window display in the Red Light District of Amsterdam. Either way, it looks good.

And a shot from the sidewalk after I strung lights up on our door. And the best part...is the wreath. It's a bell wreath! I felt like a cat all day playing with my new toy. You would have thought I was part of a Southern Baptist choir, minus the robe. It's great. Well, I think it's great. Wook's opinion is very different. He's about ready to give the cat to a Korean family for dinner. He's not a fan of the bells. I say, not yet.

Operation: Christmas Decoration

Freshly back from Kmart, we've picked up a few decorations that'll help make this loft a Christmas home in time for the holidays.

Wook's already yelling at the string of lights, while I sit here blogging with a nice cup of cocoa.

I'll start working soon enough. I just wanted to inform the masses that Christmas will be festive this year as Wook and I won't have to travel to see each other.

Now to start on the door lights. After my cocoa's gone. Of course. Priorities, people.

Happy Black Friday From Home!

I do not wake up early on Black Fridays.

I do not go out shopping on Black Fridays.

I do not deem fighting crowds to save $100 worth my time/energy/sanity.

I do believe in waking up the day after Thanksgiving and hitting the gym.

I do believe in getting back on running schedule for the Shamrock Half Marathon.

I do believe in freezing the leftover turkey meat so Mama Ging can make her infamous (and delicious!) turkey casserole when she visits next week.

I do believe in going on a salad binge to equalize the excessive carbs consumed.

I do believe in lounging the day away, Googling Christmas ideas for family members, while enjoying a cup of coffee, all while Wook plays Call of Duty 2.

Amen!