who cares about violets? (okay, really, I do… okay? For all of you violet lovers who just decided that I needed to go eat snail poison after what I just said about violets.) But really… violets don’t so much matter right now when I have these sitting in my kitchen.
I don’t get flowers very often. I usually have to die or get married in order to get them and since I haven’t done either of those things lately I haven’t had too many flowers in the house. Don’t be hatin’ The Pastor though. He usually doesn’t get flowers for me because he gets things like camera equipment and computer nerd stuff for me… you know, stuff that doesn’t die and makes me really happy. Stuff that probably steals me away from him more than it ought. Plus, once upon a time, a very long time ago in a land faraway (called Texas) I told The Pastor not to buy me flowers very often because they die.
Ladies, if you are not yet married, please take my advice and don’t tell your husband stupid things like that. He might actually listen.
But even The Pastor can be prevailed upon. I made it abundantly clear yesterday that I would not be terribly upset and angry with him if he wanted to buy me flowers. I would not even be upset if he did not want to buy me flowers and did it anyways because I begged. I won’t tell you which of those statements represented reality because the point is, The Pastor bought me flowers. Two dozen long stem roses to be more exact. I thanked him. I hugged him. I kissed him. And today I am stuffing my face into them every single time I walk past them.
You know that thing that we used to say to each other back in school when someone was staring at us (even though they were probably really staring right past us as the hot babe that happened to be behind us)? Do you remember?
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!”
I can’t believe how many insults and snide canned remarks I remember from elementary school and Jr. High. Man, are millenial kids as snotty as 80’s kids were? (Don’t answer that.)
Anyways, I’ve taken it to heart and now my flowers will never die, digitally speaking anyways. I can pull them up in all of their life-size splendor and enjoy their beauty all decade year long until I get some again.
So last night we went out on a date. We actually weren’t planning to. Don’t hate me for saying this but for the most part The Pastor and I haven’t made much of a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. It is rather a contrived holiday isn’t it? I mean, I must say that Lucy Van Pelt may have had it right (though nevermind that she was talking about Christmas) that it’s all a big commercial racket, run by a big Eastern syndicate. I tend to agree. But it gives us a great excuse to run off and leave our worries and children behind.
Some friends (Hi Kenneth and Jen) very kindly offered to watch our kids for us so that we could make our escape. The kids had a great time with them. Other than the dog getting very wary and deciding that these two diabolical strangers must have made off with his children when he came inside and found that they were nowhere to be found (they were in bed), the evening went well from all reports. (Oh and my 6 year old called off the dog before he decided to rip anyone’s arms off…)
We had a lovely dinner, though we ended up having to drive further than planned to find a place where there was any parking. We had tried to make reservations the day before at our favorite restaurant but we wouldn’t have gotten in until 8 p.m. for dinner. After dinner we went to the bookstore and looked at books for a while and bought two. Don’t ask me why but we always go to a bookstore after a meal when we are out on a dinner date. We’ve done it since our first date.
Anyways, I am determined to read something other than the internet and photography and photoshop books so I bought Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park. I love Jane Austen and I need to read all of her novels. I’ve only read two so far, so I have my work cut out for me.
Okay… I’m rambling now and going absolutely nowhere. And between the last paragraph and this one I had to run down the stairs to get something. On my way back up I slipped and fell and now my leg hurts like I just mashed it with a sledge hammer so I’d better cut it short here. OWWW!!