Today Hallie graduated from Kindergarten at The Spanish Academy.  Those of you following the plot line will note that this was not where she started kindergarten.  She started the year in a fully virtual, pandemic public school Spanish language immersion program.  Before noon on the first day of that nightmare, I had called every kindergarten in the tri-state area that was meeting in person, begging for a spot.  My first choice was naturally The Spanish Academy, but unfortunately there was no room for her there or anywhere. If there had been an open spot in the Russian Academy, the Poker Academy, HVAC trade school, or even some sort of accredited bartending program that was accepting 5-year-olds and meeting face-to-face, I would have jumped on it.  But alas, nowhere was accepting new students.

Weeks went by, and the virtual kindergarten prison became a daily source of frustration and sadness for both parent and student. For a five-year-old who has (adorable glasses due to very real) vision issues, cannot read, and doesn’t know how to operate an iPad, it was a losing battle not even worth the fight.  And there was no clear end in sight as APS kept pushing back their in-person start date.  The only way to ensure my daughter actually learned something, and more importantly, to prevent my looming nervous breakdown, was to get my kindergartner out of the house.

I set my sights on The Spanish Academy and via an aggressive phone and email campaign, continuously asked begged them to pleeeease make room for one more.

One day in late October, I finally got the call.  “Good news! We have a spot for Hallie.  When would you like her start?”

“I can have her there in about 12 minutes.  Does that work?”

She started the following Monday.

Today, she graduated!

I am SO proud of Hallie’s ability to roll with the punches this year.  She joined TSA mid-fall, in a class that had been together and speaking Spanish since preschool.  She made friends easily.  On her first day, she knew only one Spanish word: quesadilla.  Now her comprehension and accent are truly impressive.  I am confident that I could drop her off in Guadalajara and she’d be able to order a meal, ask to go the bathroom, count to 100, dazzle the locals with Spanish song and dance, and hopefully find her way back home.

Because of this wonderful school, Hallie had an awesome school year. And! I was able maintain a loose grip on my sanity.  Worth celebrating, for sure.

Felicidades graduada!

Our firstborn started kindergarten this year. Kindergarten. What’s that saying about the days being long and the years being short…?  Yeah. That.

A perennial optimist and off-the-charts extrovert, she had extremely high expectations about how the whole thing would go. Her dad and I walked her in on that first day expecting to have to deploy encouraging parenting wisdom and perhaps dry a few tears, but instead we were shouting “wait for us” as she skipped down the sidewalk into her new school.  She found the hook with her name on it, hung up her backpack, and walked right in her new classroom like she has been doing this for years.

I waited anxiously for the bus that afternoon, hoping that day one of kindergarten lived up to her oh so high expectations.  “This was the best day of my life,” she said before I could even ask.

Yes. The best day of her life. I haven’t heard that since Disney World.  But beyond it being the “best day of her life,” it was hard extracting specific details. (Well, she was able to go into elaborate detail about the cafeteria and what delicacies the children whose mothers hadn’t lovingly packed their lunches that day enjoyed. Clearly she was less than impressed with her mom-made pb&j.)

The next day I got an “awesome” when I asked her about her day…but then nothing else.  I felt like a little lap dog as I peppered her for details each afternoon.  Nothin.  Clearly asking “how was your day” was getting us nowhere.

It was time for a new tactic.

In an effort to know her and her world better, we started a dinnertime tradition.  I wrote out a bunch of questions and conversation starters on little pieces of paper.  Each evening while the little ones are eating dinner, we pick three or so colorful questions out of the bucket and read them.  Her answers include tons of detail and I usually get stories about the day and insight into what is really going on in her heart and what’s on her mind. The grown-ups usually answer too—most of these questions can be paraphrased and applied to what when down at work as easily as what went down at school.  Our two-year-old even answers a question or two, and we nod along as if we understand her version of English and/or reality.

Here is a list of questions that you can pick and choose from to ask your star students. Great conversation guaranteed.

1. Can you tell me an example of kindness you saw or showed today?
2. Can you think of a helpful thing you wish you had done today?
3. Do you know anyone in school who has trouble making friends? How could you help?
4. Can you imagine being a teacher at your school? A bus driver? How do you think you would feel doing those jobs?
5. Can you think of one act of kindness you would like to share tomorrow?
6. Did anyone do anything silly to make you laugh?
7. Did anyone get in trouble today?
8. Did you notice anyone struggling today? What happened?
9. Are you worried about anything?
10. Do you think your teacher ever feels frustrated, tired, or angry at school?
11. Does everyone have a friend at recess?
12. How did someone fill your bucket today? Whose bucket did you fill? (referencing this lovely book)
13. How did you help somebody today? How did somebody help you today?
14. How were you brave today?
15. If I called your teacher tonight, what would she tell me about you?
16. If you could call anyone right now, who would it be?
17. If you could change one thing about your day, what would it be?
18. If you could plan the family vacation, where would you take us?
19. If you could re-live anything that happened today, what would it be?
20. If you could switch seats with anyone in class, who would it be? And why?
21. If you got to be the teacher tomorrow, what would you do?
22. Is there anything you wish you had done differently today?
23. Rate your day on a scale from 1-10. What would have made it a 10?
24. Teach me something I don’t know.
25. Tell me one thing that you learned today.
26. Tell me something good that happened today.
27. Tell me something I don’t know about you.
28. Tell me something you know today that you didn’t know yesterday.
29. Tell me something you like about ________ ? (Use the name of a sibbling, friend or teacher.)
30. Was there an example of unkindness? How did you respond?
31. What are you looking forward to tomorrow?
32. What are you proud of today?
33. What did you do today that was creative?
34. What do you like best about our family?
35. What do you most appreciate about ________ ? (Use the name of a family member, friend or teacher.)
36. What do you think you should do/learn less of at school?
37. What do you think you should do/learn more of at school?
38. What frustrated you the most today?
39. What is one thing you are grateful for today?
40. What is one thing you hope to do better tomorrow?
41. What is something you heard that surprised you?
42. What is your favorite thing to do at recess?
43. What made you feel loved today?
44. What made you smile today?
45. What made you the happiest today? What made you the saddest today?
46. What questions did you ask at school today?
47. What was the best thing that happened at school today? What was the worst thing that happened at school today?
48. What was the hardest rule to follow today?
49. What was your least favorite part of the day?
50. What’s the best book you’ve read lately?
51. Who did you enjoy spending time with today?
52. Who in your class do you think you could be nicer to?
53. Who is the funniest person in your class? Why is he/she so funny?
54. Who would you like to play with at recess that you’ve never played with before?
55. Why do you think it’s important that friends, teachers, and students help each other during the school day?

Here is a quick rundown, by the numbers:

• 2 turkeys, one smoked one roasted
• 8 side dishes

• 6 miles walked in circles around my own kitchen
• 3 delicious desserts

• 12 sticks of butter
• 2 kinds of potatoes
• 5 children, 3 with teeth eating at the kids table

• 1(minor) head injury to one child (mine)
• 2 bottles of bubbly and way more than 2 bottles of wine
• 9 adults sitting around the dining room table

• 18,263 hours spent doing dishes
• Amillion things to be thankful for

As the last guest walked out the door, I closed it, exhaled…and started singing this.

More details to come, but pictures will have to suffice for now. Putting letters together to make words and then form sentences is a high-wire-act when running on so little sleep…

…but so much love.

Dressed as a little chickadee, she was all smiles and none the wiser to the moderate ridiculousness of her barnyard getup.  She happily wore the chicken suit to party #1 with a group of our friends.  Their neighborhood hosts a HUGE pre trick-or-treat party at a nearby park, complete with a parade, pizza and a DJ. Yes, a DJ. It was chaos and the kids were adorable but running amuk in anticipation of the delectable frenzy that would transpire later in the evening. The parents drank from their spiked solo cups and watched their hyperactive ninjas and princesses dance to Gangnam Style and Call Me Maybe.  If I had to take a fleet of 7-year-old sugar-high superheroes door-to-door for hours in the cold, I’d be drinking too.

Standing back and taking it all in, I had one of those surreal “oh my…this is my life now…I’m really a parent” moments.  But since That Baby is not of trick-or-treating age just yet, I make the calls on costume(s), and I don’t have to brave the elements to aid her quest for candy, I figure I’m just dipping my little toe into the waters of (holiday) parenting.

I pulled pageant mom and insisted on a quick costume change before heading to our second stop of the evening.  My little chickadee magically became a pumpkin for the Halloween extravaganza in our neighborhood.

Good Times and Butterfingers were had by all.

A year ago today, I started this little blog.  For a long time I had wanted to get in on the blogging action and I finally bit the bullet.  I snatched up the .net url (gurrrr the .com was taken) and figured out how to make it happen.

Over the past year, this blog has been such a joy (for mostly me and maybe you). Here I have shared a glimpse into my little life: things that make me smile, memories,  music worth listening to, product reviews, recipes worth cooking, highs, lows, pictures of my parents in coordinating outfits,  my guilty pleasures, and other people’s dirty laundry.  Because a piece of my creative sparkle dies every time I have to write in business speak, this blog has been a blessed mental reprieve from my day job. ((Although it is, of course, never written while I am on the clock.  Of course not.))

On this blogiversary, I want to thank you, Dear Reader, for being a part of this.  For taking time out of your week to read the snark, the sap, the sarcasm, the sticky situations, and the sentiment.  Thank you so much for making a stop at my little place in cyberspace.  I am so honored that out of all the katrillions of websites on the WWW you have taken a break from Facebook moment to visit mine.

It speaks volumes of your good taste, above average intelligence and your timeless beauty.

Year two is going to be the best yet for takethedayoff.net. Oh boy oh boy if you only knew what wonders were in store!

Stick around. You won’t regret it.

Money back guarantee.

I saw this last week on the side of an abandoned building in back roads of Somewhere, South Carolina.   I made politely asked my Handsome Driver to turn around so we could get a closer look.

Yikes.

I thought it was called the Good News…? This feels a lot more like a threat.

I ask you this: Are you motivated by threat of punishment or promise of reward?

They may want to rethink their strategy.  Perhaps a more loving message?  Something about Joy? Forgiveness? Grace?

If it is the afterlife they are set on, I suggest a more Heaven (rather than Hell) centered approach.  Consider a sign about how Heaven is a magical place full of  laughter and ice cream and everyone you’ve ever loved—where its always the weekend and where we’ll all be able to fly, eat bottomless bowls of cereal and sing in perfect pitched harmony.  I know that would make me much more likely to buy whatever it is they are selling.

As the saying goes, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

Over a bad haircut.

I have NEVER cried over a haircut but I just couldn’t help it.  The hair cutter took it all away.  It is so stinking short that it hardly fits in a ponytail.  Think Jennifer Aniston in the early 90s but shorter. And exactly—literally word for word—what I told her I didn’t want my hair to look like.

I hated it when I got it cut, but I managed to not think about it. Then things got ugly when I was confronted with the bathroom mirror whilst brushing my teeth. Tears. Ugly cry.   My puffy red cry face made the haircut look worse.  So I cried some more.

I admit that I have judged you girls who’ve cried over something as trivial as a bad haircut. Now I am one of you.  Blah blah blah, it will grow back. Blah blah blah, its only hair.  Blah blah blah, earthquake in Haiti.  Anyone who has been in this situation knows that those well intentioned sentiments don’t really help mid cry.

For some real sympathy I called my sister who was recently injured by the eyebrow waxer (and cried about it). I’ve been there before too—you look like you’re wearing bright red eye shadow for about two weeks until the scabs heal. She consoled me and recommended some vitamins that make hair grow faster.  That’s what I am talking about—sympathy and concrete advice. We laughed about how silly it is to cry about something as vain and insignificant as hair and eyebrows, andthenIcriedalittlemore.

I’ll post some before and after pictures once I get my act together (read: get fresh highlights, tame the brows, put on makeup and a cute outfit to make to make the best of the situation).

Well, the Good Lord sure knows how to humble me.  I am grateful he took away my hair, not an arm…or my legs.

So I think Ill put what’s left of my hair in a stubby ponytail and take these legs for a walk.

Perspective, it’s all about perspective.

That’s right, it’s my birthday week month season. Technically my birthday isn’t until Sunday, August 1st, but my sister was in town from Nashville so we kicked off the festivities early with a family celebration last night.

The birthday meal, by request:

While I was quite sure what I wanted for my birthday dinner, the only direction I gave for dessert was something with strawberries. This is the masterpiece made with love by my mom and my sister.

It was divine. Seconds were had by all. Thirds were had by the Birthday Girl. You can find the recipe here.

What’s that? You say you need gift ideas? I’m pretty sure our wedding registry is still active at Bloomingdales and Williams-Sonoma. And a gift card always fits.

Today is the end of the 5-7 day window where standard shipping rates apply–so I’ll let you get to it.

If a bug is in the house, I kill it with a mixture of revulsion and delight.No questions asked. This is normal, I say! No I don’t kill bugs in their natural habitat and know from 2^nd grade science that they are an integral part of the food chain. But anything else alive, other than select domestic house pets after undergoing a thorough review, is unwelcome in our home.

If there is a bug in our house, My Man’s mission is to save its life (from death by my shoe) and kindly escort it out the door unharmed. He takes his membership to the Nature Conservancy literally. Like a six year old boy, he gets a red cup and a piece of paper and begins talking to the insect. He then ever so gently captures the bug in the cup without so much as injuring one of its tiny legs, and carefully escorts it outside. He probably even names them. Sweet, right? Yeah, great in theory, but eight times out of ten the bug gets away and continues residence in our home. That whole dance used to make me really frustrated. Now I just leave the room and let him have his way.

I recently came across this Bug Vacuum, It sucks a bug in and then releases it without harm. Perhaps this will make his efforts more effective-and entertaining for spectators (i.e. me).

This is the kind of item that one can most likely find in Sky Mall Magazine, the clearing house for single-purpose and ridiculously unnecessary gadgets. Like this:

Ah, hours of entertainment await at SkyMall.com. (Sky Mall is that magazine they urge you to take for free(!) from the seat-back pocket on the airplane). But I digress…

And just to clarify, we do agree on one insect, and that is roaches. Ahem, palmetto bugs. Yes, even my little buglover kills roaches with gusto. If we didn’t see eye to eye on that there would be squabbles. This was him on Sunday night after an unwelcome intruder scurried under our oven. He had a shoe in one hand, a coat hanger for coaxing in the other and the Raid nearby. I couldn’t have been more proud of his efforts. It was like hearing a nun say a four letter word, or seeing a vegetarian eat bacon.

Well, a year and something blissful months after saying “I do,” I finally went through the gauntlet of federal bureaucracy at the Social Security office and the DMV and changed my name. It’s official. I am now legally a [Redacted New Last Name].

Holding out on this detail wasn’t an issue of independence, feminism or equality. There was no thought of hyphens or keeping my maiden name, so I don’t know why it’s taken so long. Well, I do. Taking two days out of the work week to navigate through downtown Atlanta, pay for parking, and wait in line at federal buildings just never topped my list. But suddenly it became important to me to do this and make it official. Although parting with my name- my identity for 28 years is a big deal, and I now have a last name that requires me to spell it out when I make reservations and hair appointments, he is totally worth it. I think this marriage is going to work…

I wrapped my new driver’s license with my New Last Name in a little box and I put it under My Man’s pillow for him to find tonight. Surprises? I’m full of um.

Now by heart and by law I am Jennifer [Old Last Name] [New Last Name].

Overnight, my old stationary and monogrammed towels have become collector’s items.

Let the bidding begin.

My goal was to not back out or need an i.v. before crossing the finish.  So far so good…

UNTIL I got sick on Thursday night.  It’s now Saturday afternoon and I don’t feel any better.  My incessant sneezing and nose draining has turned to nausea and the worst throbbing headache of my life.  Despite many a cocktail of Gatorade and o.t.c. meds, I still feel like crud. The thought of putting my body through strenuous physical activity tomorrow morning sounds like hell just doesn’t seem like a wise decision.

I am genuinely bummed about not being able to do it.  Although I have only gone for three swims, biked thrice, and gone for one run—I felt like I could handle that thing.  I was excited to do it with My Man, and really looking forward to our sweaty embrace at the finish line.  He was going to be so proud of me and I was going to be pretty dang proud of myself.

All hasn’t been lost–and something good has come out of this whole thing.  I have a new found love for biking!  I love that you can talk while you ride (without too much huffing and puffing) so it meets my need for socializing while exercising.  I have also conquered my fear of the paper thin tires on a road bike, and my fear of wearing heavily padded men’s bike shorts in public.  Check and check.

I am left with this question: Should I sign up for another triathlon?  Doing so this far in advance would mean that I would actually be expected to train for it.   Intense time-consuming training does not appeal to me, but I sure hate feeling like a weenie…a loser…a quitter.  I can’t quite think straight on this mixture of Sudafed, Excedrin Migraine and Midol (for good measure), so I better wait till my head is clear of these uppers, downers and hallucinogenics before I make any rash decisions.   I’ll keep you posted.

That’s what.

He is what you would call a triathlete, and assures me that the race we signed up for is great for first timers like myself. We’ll see about that, now won’t we?

I have never been one for early-morning competitive timed events, but in the back of my mind I thought maaaybeee one day I would do a triathlon after I had a rasher of children. After winning the damn thing I would say, “look kids, your mama’s still got it.” Now I’m thinking I will knock it out p.k. (pre-kids) so I can say “once upon a time your mama had it.”

A triathlon involves Swimming, Biking, and Running, in that order. I have done all of these things at one time or another, but never on the same day, one immediately after the other, without pausing for rest and refreshment. And for some reason, My Man keeps calling it “the race.” To clarify, I am NOT racing. I just want to finish in one piece.

I only have three weeks between now and the big day to get this body in gear. That’s not much time, but less time to train means less time to stress about not being trained. Here is my starting point, as of day one of training:

Swim. Swimming for exercise is not my idea of fun. Never has been. Like most kids I was on the swim team a few summers of my childhood. I hated the swimming part, but stayed in the game because I loved my red and black team Speedo. Man I felt hot in that thing. Seriously. My sister and I would get dropped of at the pool in the morning, go jump in the shower to look like we swam the requisite laps, and then hang out in the snack bar until practice was over. No one really noticed our absence because we were in the slow lane. After “practice” we would seamlessly reemerge and join the other girls for a day of diving board games, handstand contests, and country club chicken fingers.

I am most nervous about this leg, and unfortunately, I’m not quite as confident in a Speedo as I once was.

Bike. I am least worried about this leg of the race. I mean, I will have wheels. Wheels! That makes getting from one place to another a whole lot easier.

Run. It’s no secret that I prefer walking. It’s much more social and much less sweaty. I rarely run by choice. I usually run if I’m in a hurry, if I’m being chased, or if I’m trying to get home from a walk before I get caught in a lightening storm. I will only have to run two or three miles for the triathlon which I can totally handle as long as I have music to distract me. Are iPods allowed?

Well, I’m off to train. And by train I mean carb-load. It’s raining outside.

Oh, and does doing one triathlon make me a triathlete? Discuss.

I have been enjoying the small things, spending time with the people I love the most, and taking time to practice presence and take it all in.

Had I been callously rushing through the day-to-day, I might have missed the special love letter Someone was trying to send me.

A perfect heart shape in the center of my Sour Cream & Onion chip.

So let’s take the time to slow down and enjoy every bite of this crazy life, shall we?

• Lip Smackers and Wet n’ Wild nail polish
• Trolls
• A little in the “wampum bag” at Indian Princesses
• A bit to the church (to secure my salvation)
• Savings
• A scratch off lottery ticket

Lucky Seven was my was my scratch off ticket of choice. Of course I was way too young to buy tickets myself, but our nanny/housekeeper/ soul sister Pearl would buy one for me if I was good. The most I ever won was $10. But do you remember how much $10 was when you were little? A whole damn lot.

None such luck today.

Until today, I hadn’t bought a scratch-off ticket in ages, however, I still buy the MegaMillions or Powerball tickets on occasion. Even my mom has been known to dabble a bit as well, only when the MegaMillion jackpot gets above the $150 million mark. Now, I don’t know how to say this, but my mom doesn’t really need to win the lotto as much as some of us. Ya read me?

Allow me to paraphrase my mom’s lotto tip/theory: The winning ticket never comes from a nice part of town. You have to go a bit off the beaten path, nearing the other side of the tracks, if you want to have any chance of winning. For example, places that have a stack of newspapers like this by the cash register:

For you Atlantans, that means fat chance hitting the jackpot from a ticket purchased in the 30305 or 30327, to name a few. I took her tip and bought my tickets from what my Man and I fondly refer to as the meth addict Kroger.

We will have to see this weekend whether or not I am a winner. I’ll let you know…

Actually, I probably won’t. I wouldn’t want you trillas coming out of the woodwork claiming to be cousins. And things in my world wouldn’t change all that much.

My life as a multimillionaire would look something like this:

• I would do the kind of consulting work I do now, only I would provide service pro bono to non profits.
• I would work part-time so that I could spend more time with friends and family, travel, relax outside, hand-write more letters, take art lessons, etc.
• We would turn our AC way down at night so we would still need all of the covers in the summer.
• I would give more money to causes I believe in and to people who need it, and do so anonymously.
• I would get my hair highlighted more regularly to maintain the illusion that I am a natural blond
• We would buy a modest but comfortable house in Atlanta with a big yard for our hypothetical future dog and children. We would also have a small (but tastefully decorated) house at the lake and one at the beach.
• I wouldn’t get a new car, but I might get the iPod hookup installed
• Despite my millions, I would never EVER buy anything at Bed Bath & Beyond without a coupon.
• I would still get a thrill from a good old fashioned bargain: finding cute clothes on sale, buy one get one frees, successfully haggling the gentlemen at Jiffy Lube for discounts, etc.

Wish me luck! My odds are one in 120,000,000. Not bad?

Facing the working world again was pretty smooth, only we should have worn full body armor instead of just helmets.  Moments later I burned my entire hand on the oven and My Man stepped on one of my cute bumblebee pushpins.  I had to do some minor surgery to remove it from his foot. There was bloodshed.

For weeks now, we have been literally counting down the days to the beach, so upon our return we were both a little down and out.  I’m one of those who operates out of the here is what I have to look forward to mentality.  I think I have always been that way.  When I was in elementary school, I remember looking forward to Art on Mondays and Wednesdays and PE on Fridays.  I would save my favorite brightly colored warm-up suit for that special day when both classes were together for PE, as doing so enabled me to make a fashion impact on the larger audience.  In that spirit and to help get me over the hump and back into the groove, I jotted down a quick list of things I have to look forward to:

• My friend Marie’s wedding is in less than two weeks.  She is one of a kind, a beauty inside and out, the best dancer on the dancefloor, and she makes me laugh harder than just about anyone.  I can’t wait to celebrate her marriage to the luckiest man I know.  (Plus the bridesmaid’s dresses are pretty dang cute).

• Mad Men Season III is out on DVD. This will be purchased when Borders sends me one of those 40% off coupons. I’m waiting very patiently.

• Lots of fun party invitations came in the mail while we were out of town.  Oh how I love parties and oh how I love getting fun things in the mail! Hint hint.

• We get to go on a beach getaway with my family at the end of the month!  My parents are really good at vacation, and my sister and her Main Man will be there too.
• The Bachelorette will be back on TV soon.  It’s no secret that Ali was a caddy B. who made an attempt to seem like a sweet and innocent nice girl when she realized she was contending for the role of the next Bachelorette.  I wasn’t fooled one bit.  I saw it happen and it made me want to upchuck.  I also prefer the Bachelor to the Bachelorette, because a houseful of unstable women is a lot more interesting to watch than a houseful of guys having push-up contests.  But I’d be lyin’ if I said that any of the aforementioned gripes would stop me from tuning in.   Hey oh May 24!

• My friend Meredith is having baby #2 in a matter of weeks!  I I can’t wait to meet the little one.
• And there’s always breakfast. Every day it delights me anew.

Not a bad list, not a bad list at all!  And a long walk with a good playlist of random funky deliciousness always gets me back in the groove.  (Today it includes this down beat: Young Cash (ft. T-Pain & Iceburg) – Sometimes )

Ice cream helps too.

But here’s to the advent of paid vacation.

This photo essay was made possible by the regular application of SPF 30.

Life. Is. Good.

I don’t mean to brag, but I am good at vacation. I mean, really good at vacation.

For your entertainment in my absence, I thought I would share a few other ways to waste time on the internet interesting Internet finds. These sites are for the most part, complete black holes for your time –in a good way, of course. These clearly fall under the umbrella of Guilty Pleasure Thursday….it’s Thursday, right?

1. Let’s get the obvious out of the way first. FreeTetris.org. Now it’s no Snood, but it is quite addictive. If you’re not careful, you may close your eyes at bedtime and she colorful shapes and feel compelled to mentally rotate them to fit on some imaginary game board. True story. Happened to someone I know.

2. The Easter Egg Archive. An Easter egg is the name for an intentional hidden message or feature in a movie, book, CD, DVD, television show, commercial, video game, website or painting. Hidden tracks on CDs or records are classic examples of Easter eggs. Some people call them secret songs or ghost tracks. Whatever you call it, it’s a piece of music that has been placed on a CD or record in such a way as to avoid detection by the casual listener. Circa 5^th grade, I remember being thrilled to discover secret songs at the end of Green Day’s Dookie album and the Dave Matthews Band album, Under the Table and Dreaming. Counting Crows’ “Big Yellow Taxi” was actually a hidden cover song on Hard Candy. My favorite hidden track might be The Beatles’ song “Her Majesty” from the album Abbey Road. A quick example of an Easter egg in film is that Alfred Hitchcock makes cameo appearances in each of his movies, as does M. Night Shyamalan (Yes, I am well aware that those two don’t belong in the same sentence). Of course a book could be written about the Easter eggs on Lost. There are literally thousands of these little secrets out there. Thanks to the geniuses behind the site, you no longer have to hunt for these eggs yourself. You can look up your favorite TV show, movie or band and see if there are any of these little secrets waiting to be uncovered. There is an exhaustive list on the site, complete with a searchable index. It’s like a secret world has been revealed.

3. Texas Department of Criminal Justice. It is with some hesitation that I share this link. It is certainly not for all audiences. This link to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice contains an archive of the last words of those executed by the state of Texas, home to over a third of our nation’s executions. It’s amazing to me that documentation of the last words spoken by 450 executed inmates is kept on public record. Some ask for forgiveness, some claim innocence, and most claim the name of Jesus. You can also see what crime they were convicted of. It makes for very interesting reading. Consider it a sociological study rather than a twisted pastime. Just like WebMD, I do not recommend reading this close to bedtime.

Please enjoy these little diversions in my absence. I’ll be back to the real world all too soon. Only I will be a tanner, more well rested and more well traveled version of myself. With stories to tell…

This is our one year anniversary.  A year ago today we exchanged vows in the presence of our dearest friends and family at the church I grew up in.  Having all of the people who are close to us together in the same place gave me chills and I couldn’t help but tear up as my father walked me down the aisle.  We celebrated at the reception, so generously and beautiful hosted by my parents at their home.  The weather was ideal and the flowers were stunning. The food, the wine, the cake and warm chocolate chip cookies were delicious.

Old and young united on the dance floor. It was on fire.

I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

And that was just the beginning.

I have enjoyed every day of being My Man’s wife.  He makes me feel so loved and uniquely adored, although I don’t always deserve it.  He makes up songs with silly lyrics on his guitar and I dance to them.  He makes me laugh.  I love his laugh.  He rarely says no to a game of Gin, dice, Phase10 or Bananagrams, despite the fact that this might not be his ideal way to spend time.  He asks really thoughtful questions.  He inspires me to run up the hills instead of walking like I am inclined to do.  He goes on walks with me, even though I know he would rather run.  He loves good music and maintains an enthusiastic and unselfconscious dancing ethic. He is an amazing and faithful friend.  He makes it easy for me to admit when I am wrong.  He tells me exactly what I need to know to get into a sports game that before him, I never would have cared about—he knows exactly how to make me passionate about one team or the other by including the details of a coach or player’s personal life or a team’s struggles.  He has an incredible amount of integrity.  He kindly fulfills my request when I tell him “I really need a compliment.” He maintains the perfect balance of humility and confidence, especially amazing for someone who truly deserves to be cocky.   He inspires me to be a better daughter, sister and friend.  I feel blessed to be able to spend every day with him.

Tonight, so says the tradition, we will eat the top of the wedding cake we saved for our 1st anniversary.  The cream cheese frosting might not have made it through the year freezer burn free—but I’m sure the champagne will taste just fine!