So I totally won something the other day on the radio. Granted, I listen to a small non-syndicated radio station, so the prize was two passes to a movie theater in a nearby retirement community (which closes at, I kid you not, SIX O’CLOCK) and a gift certificate to a restaurant that I’ve never heard of (which doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s bad, but it does leave me a bit skeptical). I won on Wednesday, and the question was, “What movie released on this day in 1977 to lackluster sales?” And thanks to my love of VH1 and my husband, I knew that it was Star Wars! And I actually got through to the radio host, and we had a nice little chat, and I won.

But, of course, no one that I know was listening. Hubby was helping a friend of ours move and said, “That’s nice!” And all my other friends were at work or out of the station’s broadcasting area (as I mentioned, it’s a small station with a small tower). And it was actually the second time that I’ve gotten through to the host. The first time, they asked who Crispin Glover played in Back to the Future, and I accidentally blurted out “Biff….no! Wait…the dad! The dad!! George McFly!” They may be a small station, but they do insist on correct answers. The host made me spell out the whole title to Star Wars: “Episode 4, Star Wars: A New Hope”, but I think he could tell that he would look like a nerd on the air, so he edited it out when he played the tape. But even with the whole small station thing, I was still quite impressed with myself because I’ve never won anything before in my life.

That’s not entirely true. In 3rd grade, I won a “Great American Trivia” game for beating out a classmate (Suzanne…nyehhh) in the schoolwide spelling bee. It was similar to Trivial Pursuit, but not as interesting, fun, or challenging, and rather than filling a pie, you filled a flag. But I liked to invite Suzanne over to come play it and rub it in her face that I knew how to spell “iridescent”, and she didn’t.

My husband and I have put almost all of our rarely (or never) used junk in storage in preparation for a theoretical/probable future move. It's actually been a very good thing to do as I've realized that we don't need any of it. In fact, he has suggested a couple of times, "Why not just throw everything in the storage unit out rather than move it?" My reponse: NO!!! There's sentimental stuff in those boxes. And that's only half true. The things I would miss are my childhood Gund stuffed animals (I got one every year for Christmas from my parents, and they're still in pristine condition, so I want to give them to potential future children) and my Dolly Dingle paperdolls (much beloved international paperdoll set introducing me to fun paperdolls like "Beppy" the little Dutch boy). That's really it. In fact, I can't with full certainty tell you what's in any of the other boxes.

But I have a sneaking fear that we will instead move everything to a new house, put it in the "junk room" until we slowly unpack the boxes and they seep back into closets and drawers and false sentimentality.

My main goal is to not get as bad as my grandma (loved the woman very much, did not love her habit of saving EVERYTHING and writing "precious--keep" on it in pencil). After she had died, my mom and aunts found a butter tub with rocks in it that had a little piece of paper attached that said "precious--keep; these were the rocks that girls played with in June of 1954 and pretended they were food for a tea party."

I want to store my treasures in Heaven and take the rest to the dumpster. Except Beppy and his fun friends.

i've been thinking a lot about fear lately.

fear of change. fear of the unknown. fear of thunderstorms (i bring this up as it is storming outside and my VERY fearful dog is squinched up under the bed panting in terror, as if i would ever tie him up to a tree in the middle of a thunderstorm--although that's where his fear comes from: he was found abandoned, starving, tied to a tree. now he has a dog bed for every room of the house and a mom that coaxes him to eat when he's upset by burying treats in his food). fear of fire (that was a big one as a child). fear of moving. fear of not moving. fear of a whole lot of crap that i can't control.

what is it that yoda says? fear leads to anger and anger leads to the dark side. well, it's true. in episode 3, fear is what turns anakin into darth vader (well, it's a bit more complicated than that, but i don't want to ruin any plot points for the 5 people in america who haven't already seen it.) but it's true that fear comes to no good. and it seems so silly that i should operate under the veil of fear when God distinctly instructs me to NOT be afraid and i know that He'll take care of me no matter what. but still i sit here, ruminating on all the things that must be done this week, all the horrible things that could happen this week. all the horrible things that did happen last week. and i want to crawl under the bed with my dog, just like Much Afraid in "Hinds' Feet". so silly.

am going to the new star wars movie tonight at midnight with my hubby, the singing banker (www.thesingingbanker.blogspot.com), her hubby, and a teenager that my hubby mentors and his new girlfriend. the singing banker and i will be painting a red streak down our lips in honor of the soon-to-be dead senator padme. such is life. i'm trying to keep my hopes down. i was disappointed in episode 1, horrified by episode 2, and haunted by the wonderousness that can't be duplicated that is episodes 4, 5, and 6 (aka "the real star wars")

i have reached new levels of anxiety at work. it's gotten to the point where i've been having trouble sleeping at night because i can't get work-related junk off my mind. i work in a high-stress field, and i work in a lone-ranger (just me) office, a bad combination for an extrovert who gets stressed out when she can't decide what to make for dinner. and the thing is that i know that i'm not doing all the things that i should to de-stress: exercise, practice relaxation techniques, focus on hobbies that relax me. my thoughts: WHO has time for hobbies and fun? i'll do that later. and then later never happens. and i always have this imaginary timetable in my head of when things will improve: things will calm down after we get back from our honeymoon...after christmas...after my niece arrives...after we sell the house...after this next birth, home study, placement, stack of paperwork, fundraiser, phone call, bigger stack of paperwork. you get the picture.

and then some dang inspirational moment happens and it keeps me going for a few more hours/days/weeks (the last one was a 3 year old who walked into my office with pennies that he'd been saving for the babies we help find homes for--how sweet is that?)

ehh. i'll just enjoy the movie tonight with a wonderful husband and great friends and re-write that script that's floating around in my head where i tell my boss that i'm changing to part-time.

how fun is this? as i am sitting here typing this, husband is sitting behind me rubbing my back. he is nice. i like him.

here is a short list of things i am thankful for at this very moment:

-husband (see above)
-house
-strawberry shortcake pajama pants that are long enough for me
-my electric toothbrush
-my niece anna and nephew owen
-the color orange
-good friends who made husband an "emperor's cup" trophy after he didn't win the "governor's cup" competition
-fun lamps with beaded fringe (okay, now i'm just looking around the room)
-not having to take care of a pool
-potluck dinners
-really, anything with beaded fringe on it
-ice cold glasses of water
-long Sunday afternoon naps
-movies that don't end the way you think they will but end the way you know they should (a la "in good company")
-sex

This post is for a (rather bold) Miss Sarah who…insinuated that she would like more frequent updates. And now that I have a comment to motivate me, here goes (perhaps my sister will even add me back in as a link: www.sugarintheraw.blogspot.com ):

My dog is a persnickety pee-er. We finally broke him of urinating repeatedly on the same tree right next to the deck. A.) it was starting to smell bad and B.) the lower branches of the tree were starting to die. He’s going through a great deal of trauma right now because we are trying to sell our house (which is a whole other kettle of fish), and he’s not allowed up in “his” office anymore (Bill’s home office over the garage that’s recently been repainted and recarpeted where Sunny used to spend the majority of his time). We also took away his favorite dog bed in the living room, and to protest that, he went to the corner of the yard to roll around in his own poo. All this to explain why he’s not allowed out in the yard unsupervised anymore in the mornings.

So that is what led me to be standing out in the middle of the yard, holding my dog on a leash this morning, pleading with him to pee-pee as he stared at me defiantly. I know for a fact that he had to pee as he hadn’t been out for over 8 hours. But it’s like he has decided that that is the one area of his life that he can still control, when he chooses to relieve himself.

He has also taken to putting his paw up on the baseboard in the living room and licking the walls. I have NO idea what that’s about.

So that got me thinking about stupid things that I do out of defiance. When I was little, I would refuse to get out of the car when we got home, and I’d just sit in the stuffy car in the garage. Who was I punishing? Myself. As an adult, I curl up on a chair downstairs and half-fall asleep at night even though it’s not quality sleep, and I know that I should just go upstairs and get ready for bed. Who am I robbing of precious slumber? Only myself. And then there’s the really stupid stuff: refusing to watch the movie “Tommy Boy” because everyone in college used to quote it all the time and said that I “had to” see it; using Kleenex instead of toilet paper when it wasn’t my turn to buy t.p. with past roommates (I was especially stubborn on this one as I would always be the one to buy expensive Scott t.p. that lasts forever, and they would buy the cheapy stuff that lasts 2 weeks); and my personal favorite, as a child, refusing to take the training wheels off my bike even though I didn’t need them because I was lazy and didn’t want to have to bother balancing. And who got mocked? Me.