Eleven years. One third of my life. Wow. I've been wearing my wedding ring for a long, long time. We "celebrated" yesterday. That means we went to a thrift store, visited Martin's mom then left the kids with her while we ran to Wal-Mart. Really, we were out of diapers. When we got home and all kids were in bed, I put on my jammies and kissed Martin good night. He followed me into the bedroom . . . and presented me with a beautiful anniversary ring. I'm not much of a jewelry gal, but this sure was a nice surprise. I've been contemplating getting him a barbecue light. Do you think he'll be thrilled?

The trip across Kansas was a delight. Six hours late at night over boring terrain. I managed to make no stops. Got there with fumes in my tank and a full bladder. I expected nothing less. The week was lovely. The weather co-operated (a bonus mid-day rainstorm for puddle jumping was a plus) and we relaxed while Martin dealt with the madness of the film industry on the west coast. We got home Saturday morning. Martin arrived on Sunday. It hardly seems like he was gone now that a few days have passed.

I think I'll look at my ring for awhile.