I Heart Me Some Chewbacca

Hey, yeah - it's me. It is I. Gone for long enough that the two people who were reading my blog probably think I have disappeared into the ether, never to corporealize again. Hmm. Corporealize sounds in my head with a Texan accent. Oddness.

We were in Vegas a scant two weeks ago, Keefe and I. Had us some fun and wandered around the strip to have frozen drinks in ridiculously oversized mugs that lit up at the base, dinner at the Top of the World Restaurant (which was actually quite fabulous), and a good time by wandering around Vegas, opening entertainments like your close friend's cupboards to find some comfortingly familiar things and surprising new items. The best part was the burning passion that was kindled at the Hilton. I never thought my eyes would stray, but he just -

Well, he's big and strong and has these beautiful baby blues that just melt your heart, even while appreciating his dangerous side. Sure, if he were to ever come for a visit, I would need a plumber on standby to keep my drains clear, but there's just something about that little Wookiee yell that makes my heart flutter...

It was that yell that drew my eyes to the machine from halfway across the casino. So I prepared for some fun. I had just popped a twenty into the Star Wars slot machine, and hit one eensy little button. And there he was, and there, and again, yep - again, and I'm not IG-88ing you - AGAIN! Do you know what five Chewbaccas mean to me? Palpitations and a cool bean. I'm very small potatoes, so $100 is big to me. I danced around, got all giddy, posed for a picture, and then went to another machine. That one was tapped out, I thought to myself.

So I repeated the procedure - this time with a ticket worth $114.50 - hit my Max Bet, and bopped my head to the Williams' music magic and literally got chills when the next result was shown. There was a few more Chewbaccas in this arrangement as it was more than one line that hit, so it was worth $110! I was very calm this time (likely since I expected a full contingent of purple bunnies with camo and Uzis to morph out of the machine to take me away). I just looked at it, printed my ticket, and waited for Keefe to finish his current slotplay. But the calm wore off when no reality-challenging personificated animal life dripped into being around me, and I had to get another picture. I was so happy. So. Very. Happy.

And to console myself these past two weeks, when the clinic is nightmarish, or I'm tempted to ram someone's car off the road because they are too slow to live, I return to that happy time. I see the blue eyes, the chestnut fur/hair. I hear that rousing refrain of times past, times when Lucas brought joy to his fans because he actually cared to work at the product he released; times when he was open to ideas and got valid input from those around him instead of just nose enemas, and I think: Yesssss [drool, drool].

Right. Well, let's clean up here. So, I have my Keefe, Family, Friends. They're the most important thing. The Oxford class that just started this week, that's a good thing. Once it's geared up, I'll let you know about it. We're just in the honeymoon phase of the class right now, getting online and setting ourselves up. Um. I just did a very quick little exercise in my head to list out the things that make me happy. Keefe, Family, Friends, Learning. All other things I came up with revolve around these items. Can't I just sell my crap, move everyone to England, and go to school for the rest of my life? Huh? Please? Yeah, didn't think so.

So where do all my other activities fit in? The interest in politics? People and Learning. Hobbies like scrapbooking, cards, gaming, reading - the same. Singing? Nope. I don't sing for others typically, so guess that one doesn't fit. Writing, though, is about people and learning for me, so that does. I sing every day, though, and it does make me happy. So is my list then Keefe, Family, Friends, Learning, Singing? How ridiculous! But my addled brain seems to accept it now, and it's like each is a side of my homeplate to happiness. As long as I touch a few sides of it as I'm sliding in from work, obligations, social constructs, or my own self-directed fear mongering, I'll have a homerun to happy.

But now I need to get a homerun to sleepytime. But here's a cool link to The Washington Post's Post Politics Hour, which is a daily discussion at 10 a.m. with their Congressional and White House correspondents. The link is to a specific discussion that has a lot of interesting facts about Palin, but you can wander and see more updated, pertinent forays into public versus media political commutation. A point of interest is the discovery that she had taken a per diem payment from the state for over 300 nights that she was staying in her own home. Per diem is to reimburse you for expenses you incur while travelling on the clock, not kicking back in your own house. Geesh.

This race is going to be so much fun. Maybe I should add it to my happiness parameters?