I didn't realize how much I needed to get away for a short while. (I had an utterly different start to this, and then accidentally lost it. Then I realized that Andy was looking over my shoulder, so everything I had in my mind has now gone away.)

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?'

It was a productive weekend.

The parents are safely back home in Arkansas; my house is clean; the dishes are washed and put away; and life is ready, thankfully, to get back to normal.

Since my parents and I only see each other every six months now, it's commonplace to see changes every time we DO see each other. I think I was most shocked this time by how much older my father looks. He is fifty-six now, and he looks much older. I think a lot of it is that his hair is completely white. Not that off-white yellow that some people get, but a shocking pure snow white.I'd rather have that than grey hair, actually.

My mother no longer colors her hair, for which I'm grateful. I've never really understood why women color their hair to hide grey. I'd say that my mother's hair is now 25% grey; I wonder how many of those I put there?