Did the Pilgrims Celebrate Valentine's Day?

Dear John,

Saturday was Valentine’s Day and I’m thinking about our new neighbors, the polygamist evacuees from El Dorado who have settled in on the ranch next door. You know the ones who just put up the new high tech security gate right next to Deanna’s house?

Actually, if it weren’t for Deanna and her house painters – who started asking what was up next door with all the KIDS RUNNING AROUND IN PILGRIM SUITS – it might have been months before we realized they were even living over there.

The polygamists got me thinking about what my life might look today had I not married you and married, instead, someone else amongst the throngs who threw themselves down on their knees over the years asking for my hand.

Like “Bob” from Ohio.

I met “Bob” right after I moved to Cincinnati. That was a good move for me because now I am really, really good at spelling Cincinnati and because of Graeter’s Ice Cream and OH ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Sorry, I just googled “Graeter’s Ice Cream” only to discover they sell Black Raspberry Chip in TWO states now. Ohio AND Colorado. Up until now I’ve never regretted our move to Texas.

Anyway, “Bob” transferred to Cincinnati from Salt Lake City about the same time I transferred from Dallas. We worked together and struck up a friendship that then kind of morphed in to a burgeoning romantic thing. It never got much past the burgeoning romantic thing phase, though, after “Bob’s” dad came to visit.

I showered. I made a lasagna. I thought it went well.

At least I did until two weeks later when “Bob Sr.” left the comfy confines of Utah once again and returned to Cincinnati. This time with an 18 year old girl in tow.

BOB, MEET YOUR FUTURE WIFE, GEORGIA DAWN.

Yep, I got ARRANGED MARRIAGED right out of that relationship. Which is probably a good thing otherwise I might have wound up looking like this and living on that ranch over there with my 8 other sister wives.



So, in spite of our rocky start back in grade school, John ... AND DON’T EVEN TRY DENYING THAT TRAUMATIC BEGINNING TO OUR RELATIONSHIP WHEN YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS THREW ROCKS AT JANICE AND NANCY AND ME IN THE WOODS WHEN WE WERE JUST THIRD GRADERS.

See? Your 5th grade picture just screams out I LOVE THROWING ROCKS AT LITTLE GIRLS. ESPECIALLY ONES I WILL GROW UP AND MARRY.



In spite of that, you grew up into a pretty great guy who never, ever expects me to wear PILGRIM DRESSES.* And for that, and many, many other things too numerous to mention here, THANK YOU.

*Well, never except on Thanksgiving. But, then, who doesn’t dress up for Thanksgiving?

I Love You.

www.ForAllTheWaysYouCare.com

WARNING: FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and love is in the air. If I had a sense of smell I'm sure I'd be able to smell it, but I don't.

So I'll just sit here and imagine that love smells like a box of twinkies.

OR DEAD COWS.

I learned that recently from a local furniture store.

See? The sign says so:

















Now, I'm 44 years old and I've NEVER been wooed with a cowhide.

I think I feel jipped.

Sure John's brought me flowers (preferably tulips) and cards and jewelry and champagne but not once has he unfurled and snapped open a nice black and white holstein rug as a token of his undying love and affection. Not even on our honeymoon.

How is it possible that before now I never knew COWHIDES SPELL ROMANCE?

So, if this little tidbit in any way enhances your Valentine's Day experience, please remember to thank me later.

With a COWHIDE of course.