But maybe that’s why Valentine’s Day has always seemed a little bit silly to me…a conventional contrivance to bolster chocolate and flower shop sales (and I say this aware that the tradition has its roots in c. 500 AD).
(I just had an image of Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales’ characters stepping down from their mules in order to celebrate the day at a roadside inn. I wonder what they would have ordered? Cinnamon-spiced pork roast and vinegar wine?) (Great. Now I’m hungry.)
Anyway, every year I find myself in a kind of conundrum. What to buy, what to bake, what to wear? Mostly, I think of the day as one for children, so that part’s easy. And Don always (only) wanted a box of Russell Stover chocolates, which he would gobble up in record time, leaving the little brown wrappers scattered throughout the house in a Hansel und Gretel trail. (It was all very sad.)
Frankly, whenever anyone has tried to give me a ‘romantic’ gift I am half-ashamed to say that I have laughed out loud. It just all feels so preposterous to me – and I don’t say that against the giver, Mary, but against this outright display of candy-downs (a term I just made up, but which also doesn’t quite work for candy-hand-me-downs).
I think some of my disdain also has to do with all my years as a waitress/bartender, in which couples would come in and spoon-feed one another from their over-priced set-menu dinner, drink far too much alcohol, and leave the restaurant/bar arguing. And, aside from Mother’s Day and New Year’s Eve patrons, they were the worst tippers.
Anyway, you can tell from this over-wound entry that I haven’t a clue. I could bake a cake in those heart-shaped dishes. I did that last year (or was it the year before?). Apart from all the batter that slipped over the sides of the too-small pans, the cake was reasonably tasty.
Or I could go to Laura Secord and buy some chocolate goodies. (I do have that Groupon coupon…although that might be like The Gift of the Magi in reverse, and there may be a special place in hell for people who do things like this.)
Or…I could do what Lise W. (her name is abbreviated to protect the innocent – and I don’t mean Lise) did the day she went to pick up her husband after his business trip. I could get all dolled up in saran wrap and a trench coat and flash my partner at the airport. Mostly, though, I am sure that would only lead to my arrest. (I wonder what I would be charged with? Transparency?)
Anyway, I suppose I ought not spend my entire day here trying to imagine what I am going to plan or do for St. Valentine’s Day. I only mean to say that had I been an ordinary girl in an ordinary life (and I mean that in a Samuel Goldwyn movie set kind of way), this would all be a lot easier. I would be home decked out in a heart-shaped apron (and nothing else) baking up a storm while simultaneously arranging a chocolate champagne fountain on the dining room table.
Forget love - I'd rather fall in chocolate! Sandra J. Dykes [great name]
