Me: What is this a picture of?
Kindergartener: Cake?
Me: Nope. It’s something you have on Thanksgiving.
Kindergartener: Booze?
Me, trying not to laugh: No, not booze. It’s pie. Ok, what’s this a picture of?
Kindergartener: A radio?
Me: No, it’s something you open so you can go inside your house.
Kindergartener: A window?
Me: A door. Most people use doors.
I’ve always liked Valentine’s Day, so much so that in second grade, I wrote, produced and directed a play regarding Valentine’s Day’s provenance. If you are picturing a bunch of second-graders running around in togas, you’ve got it about right.
I continued to enjoy Valentine’s Day until February 14th, 1996. I had a crush– we’ll call him Ron. Ron and I sat next to each other in Mr. Sterling’s sixth grade class. We were always talking and laughing and up to hijinks, like the time we coated our eyelids with Anbesol. I was so excited for Valentine’s Day. What kind of valentine would Ron get me? What would it say? I made an extra special valentine for Ron, and filled the envelope with carefully chosen conversation hearts.
I ripped open Ron’s valentine, anticipating a declaration of puppy love. Instead it was a store-bought valentine. On it, Ron had scrawled, “Leave me alone.”
You’d think that would have soured me on Valentine’s Day, but no. In the grand scheme of things, it was just one bad day. But let me explain to you the real reason why Valentine’s Day is never, ever a total loss.
There’s pretty much nothing I’d rather eat. There never was a happier marriage than chocolate and marshmallow. How can you hate any holiday that inundates your local grocery store with marshmallowy ooey gooey goodness?
We’ve got chocolate covered marshmallow hearts, eggs, pumpkins and Santas. If Russell Stover can come up with something for Independence Day and Labor Day, my joy will be complete year-round.
So whether you’re married, single, or somewhere in between, stop the pity party and have some candy! You’ll feel better, I promise.
Look what I found under the Christmas tree at my parents’ house:
Coco and Petunia!
Aaaaaaah, they’re so cute.
(There were also presents underneath the tree, they were just all unwrapped when I took this picture, although if you feel bad for me and think I should have more presents, that’s fine. I’d be down with that.)
Remember 1998? Back before N*Sync broke up (sniff) and Lance was still pretending to like girls? Anyway, I remember Christmas ’98 because I got awesome ski poles (thanks Mom and Dad) and “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” was my JAM.
I like how they had the budget for a sleigh, but not reindeer. They also couldn’t afford anybody to make a decent PowerPoint for them, or to proofread it. But spare no expense when it comes to hair gel!
I am hard to shop for. Here’s the thing: if I want something I buy it. Within reason, of course, but I certainly don’t sit around waiting for somebody else to buy it for me. So when asked what I want for Christmas or my birthday, here’s my general answer: “Uhhhhh…”
But luckily for the two people that both read this blog and buy me presents, I’ve put together a holiday gift guide of things that I promise not to buy for myself until after December 25th.
Marc by Marc Jacobs bow necklace. Adorable.
I unapologetically love Elizabeth Gilbert. So there. This book doesn’t actually come out until after Christmas, so you could pre-order it for me. = )
Woody Woodpecker makes me laugh like a moron.
These morons also make me laugh like a moron.
Yves St. Laurent Parisenne– probably the closest I’ll get to Paris for a long time.
And lastly, a gigantor spatula, because Baby loves her pancakes.
“Everybody’s waiting for the man with the bag–”
“He’s gonna eat your children while they lie in their beds.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the song goes.”