I have mixed feelings about Valentine's Day. Part of me wants to be presented with a huge bouquet of WHITE roses and swept off my feet and carried off into the sunset. Or the moonlight. Or whatever.
And part of me wants to put a big X on my calendar, over St. Valentine's Day and forget it existed.
And part of me wants to put a big X on my calendar, over St. Valentine's Day and forget it existed.
A couple of my friends celebrate (or 'celebrate') in interesting ways.
One likes to go goth for the day. Dress in all black, black lipstick, black fingernails, the whole nine yards.
Another celebrates by buying herself flowers and a very large heart shaped box of Russell-Stovers and watching an old B&W romantic movie.
Me? I spend it with my family. (Naturally) We usually start preparing a week or so ahead by decorating folders for 'mailboxes' and filling them with homemade valentines. Then, the night of, we break out the fine china (really. With 5 boys you never, ever use this stuff except on special occasions) light the candles and have a lovely romantic/home-y steak dinner. Afterwards we open our 'mailboxes' taped to the back of our chairs and read all of the Valentines. It's sweet, really.
And so ends another holiday.
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