• I’ve noticed my writing is “swooshier” when I write with a felt-tip pen than when I write with a ball-point pen.

• If Jason beats me home from work, I can tell he’s home because the shade on our front window is open. And when I get out of the car, I can hear him playing the piano.

• Pretzels covered in peanut-butter yogurt are delicious.

• I suck at parallel parking, even in our tiny car.

• I often, if not always, judge books by their cover. The designer’s curse.

• It’s been so long since I’ve been to the gym that I’ve lost my membership card. I hope they give me another one, because my membership doesn’t expire until August 2011.

• I dance around our living room. A lot.

• Every time my leg feels the slighest bit numb, I’m afraid I have another ovarian cyst. That’s how we discovered the last one.

• Jason won’t let me get a scooter. He’s been hit by cars twice – once on his bike and once on foot – and feels the damage would only get worse if I were going faster.

• I have little willpower to stop the buying transaction if something I’m thinking about buying comes in lime green.

• I’d be a lot thinner if I were allergic to Mexican food. And gravy.

• Jason once found a list of the things I wanted in a husband (I was only 14 or 15 when I wrote it). He still teases me about how few of the criteria he meets.