Happy Valentine’s Day—No Really!

I received some very differing responses to my valentine stories on last Saturday’s post. My husband was the first to read them and responded with, “that’s not funny.” My son told me the orchid story was the saddest thing I ever wrote. Of course he was feeling sympathetic toward his dad. A friend and former co-worker wrote that my valentine stories were hilarious. Though each was a story about intentions gone awry, remember what John Lennon told us about plans: “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

Another story of plans gone wrong.

Down in Austin, there’s a pizza restaurant that will make a heart-shaped pizza for you and your sweetheart on Valentine’s Day, providing you order in advance. When Robert was a sophomore at the University of Texas, he met a lovely girl named Dani whom he wanted to impress with his romantic finesse. Robert placed his pizza order, picked out an inviting spot on the UT campus South Mall, and packed a blanket, candles and picnic supplies for the big date.

When he arrived at the pizza restaurant he grabbed his take-out order and dashed over to the mall to meet Dani for their romantic picnic. Upon opening the pizza box they discovered a minor problem. The pizza was not only uncooked, but it was partially frozen as well. They packed everything up and drove back to the restaurant to get their valentine baked. Apparently the restaurant assumes everyone who orders heart-shaped pizzas to go has an oven handy.

By the time the pizza was ready, the temperature outside had dropped so low that they gave up on the idea of “dining out” and drove back to Robert’s dorm to eat their pizza and watch a video. Robert lit the candles and they parked themselves on the sofa to commence their romantic evening. In his haste to reset the scene for romance, he failed to consider the result of placing burning candles in plastic cups. As they were dousing the flames on the coffee table, the top of the television caught fire and began to melt. They put out the TV flames and the remainder of the evening went without incident—I’m told.

Your Stories

Sandy's comment last week about valentine boxes made me think about making my own perfectly crafted, designer-quality valentine mailbox—the kind we used to make with an old shoebox, white shelf paper and heart-shaped doilies. I think psychologists call that "repairing the past." Maybe I'll do that next year. Thanks to those who sent their own story. I’ve posted them verbatim with no edits so the writers' feelings would be conveyed accurately.

Gerry

My Valentine's Day Disaster!

1981 or 1982 (it's all a bad dream) I attempted to be a good military officer's wife in big DC. We decided to have a big "payback" dinner for the Harrier embassy's Big Shots. I had not ever attempted to cook for such a big crowd around (20) and I will never try to do that sort of entertaining again. I must have been crazy! sent out the handwritten invitations two weeks in advance and received RSVP"s from secretaries from several embassy's. Then the panic attacks set in...WHAT WAS I THINKING? Even the embassys have help! Of course Valentine's Day would be fun!!! NOT!

The decorations were ordered, flowers for all the tables and heard shaped balloons, the food. I made layer salads for 4 days and desserts for each table. Bought booze for an army (no pun intended) The Brits can drink very well. Have you ever been invited to Friday prayers. Just plan to spend the night. I set up four small tables (bought red and white tablecloths) also set up my big table that sits 8. made treats for the ladies and wrote name cards for each table. Boy was I sooooo cool! My homemaking classes really came in handy. Everything was right on schedule. My poor husband didn't get a decent meal for about two weeks. Now the butterflies began to fly in my stomach.

Two days before the party the weather set in....just my luck. We had one of the biggest snow storms or should I say blizzard) hit the east coast. It snowed baseball size flakes for three days. I couldn't see my back yard and decking. No going to work even in a sled. The beltway was closed! Oh my God! Why me.?

Well I started calling everyone on the 13th. Would you believe the British Embassy said they thought the could come in a helicopter in...what a joke! Well, here I was with expensive tenderloin for 20 people. Of course let's not forget the 100 balloons. But have no fear...the booze came in handy.

To top it off...the music trio I hired called the afternoon of the 14th to see what time to come. How were they going to get to my house? I guess they had dogs and a BIG sled. Kids will do anything for money.

One good thing came out of this disaster, the neighbors ate well. Oh yes! I couldn't go to work for a week. So much for St. Valentine....

Audrey

Growing up as a child, most of my valentines were angst-ridden. More so than in Jr. High and in High School. I thought of myself as the most ugliest creature that ever lived, and felt that valentines were obligatory...you know...like getting a hug from Grandma, and that it was the forced decorum that allowed lucky me to get them from my girlfriends and the other kids in class.

You know, that - I do believe that, for me, being the romantic that I am....valentine's day is mostly remembered as painful. Brett abhorred the day, but, during our early years, he obliged me by buying me roses. But one such early valentine's day, my heart-pounding in my chest as we both worked at the same company - I awaited for some public token of affection from him that he truly loved me (you see - he was known as not the most faithful of guys)...so, interested in what was going on...I passed by his cubicle to see 4 dozen roses with vases on his desk! OMG!!! I imagined that this scoundrel had the balls to publicly humiliate me, and send these flowers (all different colors) to different girls in our office. I was furious and saddened - humiliated!!! I just wanted to go home and couldn't face other co-workers...I suffered through the rest of the afternoon, seeing co-worker after co-worker get bouquets...cringing at the thought of some gossipy person saying "....look who Brett bought flowers for..."...But when my name was called to the front of the office, - there they were - all 4 dozen flowers - each a different color - sent to my name only...It seems that once a man breaks your heart, you'll always have that automatic defensive mechanism...and assume worst case scenarios...and dare couldn't allow myself to think that I deserved flowers on Valentine's Day.

But, I truly and whole-heartedly believe that we should set aside - 1 day a year...one measly day a year where you are reminded that love does indeed exist, and not to take for granted that, which you've been lucky enough to have the rest of 364 days a year.

Leslie

I’ve been racking the old brain for any Valentine memory when it dawned on me that I don’t have ANY at the adult level at all….you see, Sam and I got married on Feb. 15 so God forbid I should get two gifts!

When I think of my childhood Valentine memories there aren’t any because I went to Catholic School and that was a heathen venture and I’m sure full of IMPURE THOUGHTS (which by the way has become one of my favorite mantras)!

During the 10 year period between 1980 & 1990 I was room mother for each of my three children and Valentines was a huge ROOM MOM day, right ladies? Somewhere into year 4 or 5 it hit me that this room mom crap had gotten out of hand. Jeeze, these kids start celebrating every holiday earlier and earlier and are almost burned out by the time the REAL holiday gets here. This includes Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and I would need my calendar to list the rest of them!

I can’t think of a heartwarming message to this but I do care about my fellow sisters of the air!

Love, Les

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Happy Valentine’s Day to All! Today, and every day, I hope you feel the love of family and friends, the joy of memories, and the gift of turning bitter to sweet as time goes by.

Donna

My Not So Funny Valentines

Saturday, February 14th is Valentine’s Day, the day we’re reminded to express our love for sweethearts and other dear ones. We all know we need to show our love more often than once a year; but in our lives, for some reason we have had such great expectations about this one day in February.

Before starting this post, I checked out several web sites and blogs to get other people’s thoughts on this holiday. I wanted to know if others had experienced the kind of mishaps that I had while trying to express my love. There were over three million hits for “I Hate Valentine’s Day.” Their intensity ranged between “Valentine’s Day is not all hearts and candy for everyone” to “Love Sucks Month.” Believe me, I don’t hate Valentine’s Day at all; but some have not gone so well.

Recycling is not the answer.

My mom could always be counted on to buy short. When she brought home the box of twenty-four valentines for my thirty student third-grade class, I had to get creative. Having saved the previous year’s valentines for some reason, I selected a few, covered the senders’ names with plain white paper, signed my name, and voilà! My problem was solved. There were a few boys in my class I didn’t like so much, and I chose them to receive the recycled cards. After all, my third-grade brain reasoned, a previously gifted valentine was certainly better than none. No card at all would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it?

Wayne, one of the boys to receive a recycled card, pulled my carefully pasted and signed backing from the card, exposing the name of another boy beneath it. I will never forget his angry tears as he confronted me with his discovery. No amount of explaining on my part helped.

Obey the Prime Directive (Star Trek fans will understand).

When my son was in the fifth grade, he had a crush on Anna, a girl in his class, and wanted to give a special valentine to her. We purchased a very sweet “secret admirer” card in addition to the usual box of inexpensive children's valentines. I printed “from your secret admirer” on the special card so no one would recognize his handwriting. Since I was room mom, I organized the class party and was there when disaster struck. Someone saw Robert drop the slightly larger card in the custom-made valentine box perched on the corner of Anna’s desk and blew the whistle on him. Anna, a tall, willowy, wisp of a fifth grader was still in the “I hate boys” stage of girlhood and now she hated Robert, a sweet little boy she had hardly noticed before. I did learn from that experience and have never interfered in Robert’s romances since.

The Orchid and the Roses.

When my husband Jim and I were first dating, I lived in San Diego and he had just arrived at Camp Pendleton Marine Base in Oceanside, California. He was broke paying off college loans and helping to support his family in Illinois. Our dates were definitely budget-style. For our first Valentine’s Day together, he stopped at a florist on his way to my apartment and purchased a single, beautiful anthurium orchid for me.

Meanwhile, my friend Bev, who lived in the same apartment complex, had a long-distance romance going with the guy back home in Wisconsin. He sent her a dozen long-stemmed red roses and sent me a single rose just because I was Bev’s friend. The florist switched the orders and delivered the single rose to Bev and the dozen roses to me. After dropping off his buzz killer bouquet, the delivery man turned to head back to his truck. And there we stood—me with a gorgeous spray of long-stemmed red roses in my arms, and Jim, with a single anthurium orchid in his hand.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “I believe that’s my question,” Jim had replied. At the time Bev was angry with her guy back home and wouldn’t take the dozen roses from me. Not wanting Jim to be forced to gaze at the extravagant roses all evening, I hid them in the bathroom and placed the orchid on the coffee table. To this day, I never see an anthurium orchid without thinking of that Valentine’s Day.

Send me your Valentine story.

There’s evidence all around my house that my family and I have shared some lovely Valentine's Day celebrations through the years: the vases that held the roses Jim has given me, the heart-shaped cookie cutters I used to bake cookies for Jim and Robert, and the heart pendant collection in the jewelry box. So why can’t I let go of those regrettable memories? Perhaps it's because of the lessons they taught.

If you have a funny or not-quite-what-you-planned Valentine’s Day tale you’d be willing to share, send it to me at donna.hodgson@gmail.com. I plan to work your stories into next week’s post on Valentine’s Day. First names only (or no name, if you prefer), will be used. I can’t wait to read your stories.

Donna