Categories: uncategorized
Date: 16 February 2007 06:02:51
How was your St. Valentine's Day? Did you do anything special to mark the day? Or do you avoid it as too commercial, too narrowly focused on two-person romantic love?
According to the legends about St. Valentine, there was a lot more to the roots of the holiday than a pasteboard greeting card and a box of cheap chocolates -- not that I don't want a pasteboard greeting card and a decadent box of fattening cheap chocolates... you know what I mean.
(And if pagan roots scare you, I can't help you -- go find something something to read that doesn't reference anything non-Christian. Maybe a cake recipe.)
According to the legends, there was and always has been a lot of good in Valentine's Day -- despite the evil in the world. It can be a bright spot in the year. You can honor friendship and love and respect and lovingkindness and all sorts of good and right and potentially Godly things, in the context of Valentine's Day.
When I woke up the morning of the 14th, there was a pot of lovely red-and-yellow tulips by the computer. When I turned on the computer, the screen woke up with a great flashy wallpaper of similar tulips -- and the song "Tiptoe Through The Tulips", in all its glory, by Tiny Tim.
So everybody in the house was awakened by Tim's final nosebleed-high falsetto note, and peals of delighted laughter from me. ("... and if I kiss you, in the garden... you'll pardon me...")
On the 13th, to honor Valentine's Day, hubby received a gift in the mail -- it was the same giant lollipop, shaped like a rude bit of male anatomy, that he'd given "anonymously" to a co-worker at the shipyard recently, as a joke.
It came back to him via Priority Mail, wrapped in Official Viagra Wrapping Paper. (The man's wife works for a doctor -- that's where the wrapping tissue came from. I want more of it!)
Inside, on the sucker's wrapper, were those travel stickers one used to see on luggage -- "Idaho", "Paris", "Hong Kong", "Las Vegas", you know? Which was funny -- thinking of Mr. Wee Wee traveling the globe like a stolen garden gnome, then coming back to haunt the spouse. ("Eeeewww... you don't know where that's been!" "Hah! Yes I do! It's been to Idaho, Paris, Hong Kong...")
Romance is a good thing.
The evening before Valentine's Day I began to wonder a bit about the romance quotient here -- when I drove up into the driveway after work, the spouse came bursting out of the front door, laughing, eager to share his gift with me.
I mean, to share the fact that he'd received it. I ain't sharin' that dildo-looking lollipop. It's been everywhere.
But then, he went to such lengths to make sure I could get to bed early that night, so he could set up his song and wallpaper, and bring in the tulips, so I would find them this morning.
I guess, deep down under the part of him that comes charging out of the front door, before God and the neighbors, waving an oversized "fleshtone" candy penis, underneath all that is the suave romantic husband, struggling to get out. Yeah.