VD (yep, that's Valentine's Day)

Does it feel different today than it did yesterday? There is something in the air. I sense the lingering presence of Cupid, the smell of wilting flowers, the aura of ugly, oversized stuffed animals, and tangy scent of love in the air. It must be the day after Valentine’s Day.

This is the first year that I haven’t gone out on Valentine’s Day. Wait, that makes it sound like I have fabulous, sweep-me-off-my-feet dates every Valentine’s Day…no, that isn’t what I mean. I mean that this is the first Valentine’s Day in a while that I haven’t been at Wal-mart, running errands and trying to avoid the pink and red aisle, or driving down Archer Rd. past the roadside stands with mealy roses and raggedy teddy bears on February 14. I stayed home this Valentine’s Day. I took a nap (now that is the purest form of love. I am honest-to-goodness, head-over-heels, crazy-in-love with my sheets, but that is another blog). I treated myself to homemade soup (made from actual ingredients instead of from opening a can!), and I talked to my best friends on the phone. I watched S*x and the City and 24 (nothing says Valentine’s Day like a little lovin’ followed by some terrorism). And I reminisced about Valentine’s Days of the past.

Last year, I saw crowds, actual crowds, lined up at roadside stands to buy flowers on Valentine’s Day. I saw a man, he looked normal enough at first glance, carrying a gigantic, red, stuffed, heart-shaped pillow with arms and legs from the back of an Explorer parked at a gas station to his car. Nothing says, “Be my Valentine” like a giant, heart-shaped pillow that actually says, “Be my Valentine.” I wonder if the guy was really lame, or if he had a girl that was just achin’ for a stuffed heart. Seeing this normal looking guy carrying that pillow really made me question my judgment. I say leave that bad boy in the back of the Explorer at the Texaco.

I have a friend who refers to February 14th as VD Day. It loses some of its romantic oomph when you allude to a disease. But the idea has potential. Actually, we are working on a line of greeting cards – they should be available next year. Something along the lines of, “Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you! (You may want to get that rash checked out).” Hallmark Schmallmark, they’ve got nothing on us.

My favorite Valentine’s memory involved being at Wal-mart on February 14th, trying to get some candy hearts to give to my girlfriends. There was an older man, probably in his late 60s, in the aisle next to me. As I tried to decide how many boxes of chalky hearts I needed to buy, the man roared, “Woman!”

A mousy little woman, in her 60s as well, came tearing around the corner. “I’m right here,” she said to him.

“I said to be right here!” he said, pointing to the ground next to him.

“Sorry,” she replied meekly. I was quietly horrified. Evidently Valentine’s Day is for whispering sweet nothings or for yelling “Woman!” over the aisles at Wal-mart. To each his own.

This year, I have a Valentine. That’s right, and honest-to-goodness Joe Valentine. He called me woman once, and it was kinda funny. (Mostly because he wasn’t serious, and we weren’t in Wal-mart at the time, and he had just gotten done saying, “Where you at?” in his best ghetto voice.) We celebrated our Valentine’s Day early so that I could spend the 14th with Jack Bauer and the S*x and the City girls, eating homemade soup and sleeping.

During a classic Paige moment, I had studied the menu for the fancy Italian place we were going a few days before the big night. I even had Juleanne translate some of the dishes into the “you wouldn’t like this” or “this is your kind of thing” language that I like. I was fully prepared with my order days before we made it to the restaurant. The only problem was that they changed the menu for Valentine’s Day. Classy place, huh? I had to spur-of-the-moment order something (not my forte) at a place that doesn’t serve turkey sandwiches (my standard fare).

I like that I have friends that can appreciate my oddness. Katie told me about her Valentine’s weekend, and the only thing she mentioned was that the hotel room had the menu for the place she was going to eat…so she could pore over it and decide what she wanted before she got there. She knows the joy of pre-ordering in your head – that is my kind of quirky girl. She isn’t the only one who understands my quirks. When Joe picked the restaurant for this weekend, he asked if he had picked the right one. I feel like I have him trained.

I hope that all of you had a wonderful Valentine’s Day full of the things you love (even if that is heart-shaped pillows). Actually, if you do love heart-shaped pillows, let me know, our friendship might be another one of those errors in judgment.