Happy anniversary, baby—got you on my miiiiiiiiind...

Well, I think the two-year mark is when you can stop calling yourself a newlywed. It’s about time, too. I hate the moniker “newlywed”—brings up nasty images of things like ‘The Newlywed Game.’

That show makes me cringe. There’s something about making cutesy fun of your significant other’s private details that just makes me recoil in horror. I would be horrified to have some of my personal details (like the ones disclosed on TNG) blared out for everyone to see while they’re having their afternoon scooby-snacks.But hey, that’s me, and I’m an incredibly private person…who just happens to post her journal online. So what. I never ever claimed to be consistent.

I’m contemplating cutting my hair while I’m in D.C. later this year. Something drastic. My hair is nearly halfway down my back—it grows, bushy and weedlike—and it’s that time of summer where I start thinking, ‘What if I cut it?’

I’ve been thinking about something really drastic—a nice triangle cut. Well, at least, that’s how I refer to it. Hair longish on top, so that it comes down just past my ears, and then trimming the back really short. Like nearly buzz-cut-ed.

I dunno if I’ll ever get the bravery to do this. But it’s fun to think about.

Jeff and I went to Pauli’s tonight for our anniversary dinner. We agreed that his steak was quite possibly one of the best we’ve seen in a long time, and my scallops were equally good. I’ll get around to posting a review soon, never fear.

I had good food, and a pretty copious amount of it, and several glasses of wine. I’m tired—thus I’m going to cut this short, post it, and go sleep.

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