My First Friday Confessional

So my friend Debra at Housewife Eclectic does a weekly Friday Confessional. It's by far my favorite kind of post she does (although she does have some really great recipes, craft ideas and photoshop tips as well) and I watch for them the way I watch for Postsecret each week.
Anyway, I've recently been thinking about how boring my writing has gotten lately, especially after reading this post from my friend Emily and so I'm going to experiment with the confessional and see how it goes.

• I confess that I still haven't blogged about my wedding, and I feel guilt about this. I confess that my reason for not doing so is the same as the reason I haven't made a wedding book yet. The thought of sorting through and uploading all of the pictures is  weirdly daunting. However, I'd probably better get a move on before I forget all of the best details. 
• I confess that my husband loves puns. Loves them. Last week, we were getting ready for bed and he said, "Shall I turn down the lights?" I answered, "Well, I don't know. What are their demands?" I don't think he could decide if it was the least romantic or most romantic thing I could have said. 
• I confess that I have still only written about a third of my thank you notes from my wedding. I had high hopes for making Eric write them with me this summer, but alas. He's back in school and I probably need to just suck it up and finish them. I have a year before I'm socially ostracized, right?
• I confess I just bought Funny Face for $5 at Walmart. Every time I watch it I think, "Wow. No one in this movie can actually sing, except maybe Miss Prescott. Why is it so brilliant?" And yet. 
• I confess that last summer, I got hooked on America's Got Talent. And this summer I hooked Eric. Sorry, honey. But without me, you'd have never seen The Kinetic King or those people who dress like gnomes. 
• I confess that the only bookstore within 50 miles of me is going out of business, and although I am sad and appalled by this, it didn't stop me from going and picking up severely discounted copy of the America's Test Kitchen Cookbook, plus a book about the story that inspired Moby Dick. (It has cannibalism in it, like that Monty Python sketch, but real.) (Also, they were kind of a cruddy mall bookstore anyway, but it's still sad that no one reads in the valley, and the bookstore is a dying establishment.)