Andrea Disaster invited me to an improv show and PHI, didn’t tell me it was an all-audience participation show, made me pay admission, then didn’t take me to PHI. It was perfect.

I just bought a pair of indoor soccer shoes. I haven’t bought shoes that fit in years.

When we adopted Ginger, they told us she is a Miniature Pinscher/Jack Russell Terrier mix, but we think there’s some Chihuahua mixed in. And like a Chihuahua, she tends to shake when she’s cold, or nervous, or wants Taco Bell.

At a rest stop on the way home from visiting family this Thanksgiving, I was petting and talking to Ginger as she stood in the boot of our car, shaking. I told her that she doesn’t need to shake so much, that she doesn’t need to shake at all. And as soon as I said that, I realized that God has been trying to tell me the same thing when I worry. And as my dog continued to shake, I thought about God’s patience with me as I continue to worry.

I worry, a lot. I worry about all sorts of things that I don’t need to worry about, because I don’t understand why I don’t need to worry about them. And every time, God pets my head and tells me that I don’t need to worry. In Philippians 4:6–7 (New International Version), Paul wrote

⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

The first verse is the instruction, and the second verse is the promise. And the part that tells us that the peace of God transcends all understanding, that helps us to accept the promise. I think about my dog shaking in the back of a car in a strange place, and how much she is unable to understand about her situation. I think that we must be a lot like her, not able to understand why we are here or why things happen. But unlike my dog, we can know that we don’t need to understand God’s peace in order to accept it.

I remembered to say goodbye this time. I think I’ll go more often.

Tonight I got my boyfriend’s boots shined at a different kind of club.

Number One wanted to get some geocaching in this weekend, so I prepared by checking the batteries in my trusty Garmin eTrex and watching MacGyver. We planned five hunts and found all five without much trouble, except for the incident at the strip club.

I’ve made it a goal to learn to enjoy the taste of fish. If you search for “learn to enjoy the taste,” it certainly seems possible to proactively acquire a taste for fishy things. So if you’ve been following along with the Fish I’ve Eaten list in this blog’s sidebar, I have some exciting news:

Yesterday, I had two servings of potato crusted tilapia with a scallion nage.

It was certainly the potato crust and scallion nage that I craved, but it was the first time I’ve wanted more of a fish that wasn’t deep fried or in a shell. I’m a bear swimming upstream.

If you’ve been following the underpants situation, I have an update. By going in commando-style, I was able to rescue one of the pairs of boxers. If this sounds familiar, it’s basically the plot of Rambo: First Blood Part II.

The boyfriend has also apologized for hanging a wet bathing suit in the locker.

I keep an extra set of workout clothes at the club:

• 2 shirts, one black in case the boyfriend works out with me
• 2 pairs of shorts, black
• 2 pairs of Hanes Boys’ Ankle Socks, size L
• 1 pair of Hanes Men’s ComfortSoft Knit Boxers

I don’t know why I forgot the extra pair of boxers, but that is just the beginning of the story. You read the end of the story. I’m not prepared to blog the middle of the story.

Please feel free to guess in the comments.