Ryan and I just planted our very first organic garden in our backyard. We have cherry, big boy, roma, and pineapple tomatoes to look forward to, as well as thai basil, thai chili, cayenne peppers, cilantro, oregano, and thyme. I can't wait to get my hands on those juicy sun ripened tomatoes, slice em up on piece of bread with some mozzarella and olive oil. YUMMY!

Michael Jackson
King of pop, hello!

New Kids on the Block
Great dancers, blast from the past, make me miss being 10 years old

Seal
Smooth vocals, sexy, interesting, love the accent, great style

Duh... so I can see my family whenever I want. We can go to the beach and then stroll downtown and then rent a canoe to go down the Fox River on. We'd have midwestern hospitality meeting West Coast coolness. Life would be peaceful, fun, and surrounded by loved ones.

My Uncle Simon from England sent me this book for my birthday. I used to laugh and laugh at the pictures and I really loved that it flapped open on certain pages. I distinctly remember loving the seals who could bounce a ball on their nose, but poor Spot couldn't figure it out. That little dog is so bloody cute with his little tail and friendly eyes. It's an innocent, simple, and sweet book that I will never forget.

I think San Diego is the perfect city. I haven't been there since I was like 4, but thats what everyone keeps telling me. Its warm, on the beach, close to Mexico, within a days journey for my family to come visit me, and I imagine being able to go for nice long walks along the beach with my husband and dog, get a good cup of coffee, and read the paper. That is what I want out of retirement. Just coffee and the paper, and the knowledge that I've got enough money to send my kids to college and not think about money.

My song for Assisi would have no lyrics, it would be a few simple strings on a guitar with the sound of Franciscan monks chanting in the background. Partly because I can't sing worth a damn, and partly because I have no musical talent whatsoever. I prefer dance. Anywhoooo, Assisi was one of the most tranquil, unique, prayerful, and surreal places I have ever travelled to. Perhaps thats because it was January, cold, and empty when I went. I've heard that its actually swamped with tourists in the high season. But who cares, I loved it. I think that there is a hidden treasure in this hillside town that can only be discovered my going to the Monastery of Saint Francis, and then over looking the valley below.

Song for the Dumped by Ben Folds Five

This song is filled with sympathetic rage and we've all been there before... pissed, betrayed, and wanting your stuff back. And C'mon, who doesn't love screaming the line, "Give me my money back, you bitch... and don't forget to gimme back my black t-shirt"

Wind, Waves, and Sun... Mother Nature wants us to BOOM using her natural resources. If we could create the technology to truly tap into these resources and repower the world we would once again be the dominating, wealthiest, and most prosperous nation in the world... oh yeah, and we'd save the freaking planet before natural disasters wipe us all off of it.

No need to elaborate. It is cut and dry. No need to be dishonest, because the forces of nature will always ALWAYS and inevitably reveal the TRUTH!

Actually, I take that back. I forgot about necessary lying. The previous answer is what my soul says is correct and true, but my practical and fun brain says there are some necessary evils and I think you'll agree:

I think its okay to lie if you :
-are getting out of work to go skiing, to the beach, to Mexico, or to another job interview.
-are complimenting your child's drawing, singing, instrument playing or dancing performance in order to make them feel confident and loved.
-protecting me from feeling fat, ugly or old
-securing information from the Taliban
-mingling at a cocktail party and just need exaggerate a story, ever so slightly, to make it really funny and land yourself a group of new friends.

I think that just about covers it.

Where were you on that one, dipshit?

Panties
Just call them underwear. Why do they have to be called "panties" just because women wear them? Men don't wear "panties". They wear "briefs" or "boxers" or the combo "boxer briefs", which all sound so strong and sturdy. The truth is, we ALL wear underwear or undergarments. So, is it that women have to be more petite sounding, or perhaps more sexy... give it up! I don't wear "panites", I wear underwear... and so does every other woman in their right mind. Panties can shove it!

Although being a volunteer teacher was one of the best experiences of my life, it was also one of the loneliest years. My time in Wisconsin was filled with prayer, contemplation, and a soulful journey of self-examination. My only friends were a Christian brother and Ryan, who was in Montana. Other than that it was me, a class of 6th graders, and my pal Jesus!

I longed for 70 degree sunshine, coffeetopia, salt water waves, warm breezes, and fresh strawberries. But the longing is what made me appreciate the little gifts of each day all the more... fresh air, a crisp morning after a long night of snowfall. I learned to give thanks for the comfort of a scarf on a chilly fall evening and the beauty of the great lakes rolling waves, even the yummy taste of a grilled cheese sandwich. I pined for home, but I could appreciate the underappreciated gifts that I took for granted and that has made me a better person, one who can really find good in anything... even Wisconsin in the dead of winter, friendless, lonely, and weary from the intense responsibility of teaching impoverished youth.

Cell Phone
In case I get stuck on the side of the road and I need to call AAA.

Cheerios
My daughter likes to snack or throw thee little whole wheat treasures whenever or wherever we may be. I gotta keep em handy.

Keys
Duh...

Lipstick
Just in case I am looking like a zombie and need to glam up for the supermarket.

sunglasses
I hate my eyes being pierced by the suns damaging rays.

diapers
My daughter is One and needs her bottom clean at all times.

Butt Cream
My little one rashes easily. And hey, maybe I might just need it if I am feeling fancy. I don't know why that means.

A margarita. The smell of fresh squeezed limes, good tequila, crisp salt, and ice is like whisking me back to Puerto Escondido.

It changed my perspective on the way that the universe works, how a huge percentage of the world understands their God, and how life is a cyclical union of balanced positives and negatives.

When I was 22 I spent two unforgettable weeks with my Dad before I said goodbye to him forever. I moved from Wisconsin to Chicago, via a return to my hometown of Santa Cruz, California. I was admitted into grad school at Loyola Chicago and was destined to begin a new chapter in my life with my Chicago native (then) boyfriend, Ryan... the man who is now my beloved husband.

Originally, my mom and dad had planned on renting an RV to drive in behind Ryan and I in a Uhaul. But my mom got cold feet and decided to fly to Chicago to meet us after our trek. My Dad however was determined to see all of the sites he had never seen before: Jackson Hole, The Tetons, Yellowstone, Mount Rushmore, The Bad Lands, The Mississippi River, and Chicago. With my 98 white Jetta packed to the gills with all of my stuff, the three of us headed out on the open read to see real America.

We met people from all walks of life, including my Dad's favorite posse, the Harley Davidson dudes headed to Sturgis for the epic motorhead mega-party. He thought their black chaps, chains, beards and friendly demeanor was a hoot. We stopped at pretty much every coffee shop between California and Illinois to meet the townies and experience "America". My Dad claimed to have ridden his favorite bike ride during his time in Jackson Hole. He rented a bike and rode about 20 miles from the town of Moose to the town of Wilson and back, with the inrcedible backdrop of the Grand Tetons by his side. Ryan and I went for a hike that day and saw him along the bike path. I'll never forget climbing out the window as we drove by at 30 mph, yelling at him in support and joy, "Hey Dad!" and he yelled back his classic Mike Fitzpatrick line, "Go Gaels!" with his number one finger wagging in the air. That is one of the happiest memories of my life.

This was simply the best road trip and blessing of my life because it was the most hilarious, precious, bonding experience with my dad. Little did I know that it would be the last time I would see his face and hug his big bear body. I thank God for that trip almost every time I think of him.

Its romantic, HILARIOUS, and how can you not love a Chicago based film with John Cusack. MY favorite line, "Hey Jelly Bean!"