Valentine’s Day

Do you have your gift for your loved one(s) in your life all set to go?  If so I am jealous as I’ve yet to even think of what to get my husband.  Yes, I realize I have less than 2 hours before it is officially V-Day but he is quite frankly one of the hardest people to shop for.  I think I’m still burned out from expending all of my energy on Christmas for him (Keurig machine FTW at the last moment!) so I am out of ideas.  This is how it generally happens so I’m sure he’s not surprised.  At least I have another month before his birthday (and I’ve got an idea cooking for that!) so I may phone it in with his favorite gift: Amazon gift card.   My gift is the gift of him going to see Titanic in 3D with me!!  I’m SO excited!

This blog isn’t about THIS Valentine’s Day though, this is about my absolute worst one ever in history of Valentine’s.  To be ended with a story of best one ever that I remember to keep it all sweet and stuff.

9 years ago (holy moly it’s been that long… wow) I had just fallen on a patch of ice going in to see my friend’s fiance’s band play.  Wait.  I need to back this up further.  At the end of 2002 one thing was glaringly obvious, I needed a divorce.  The marriage was not working for me, for him, or for anyone.  I summoned a great deal of courage and met up with my Dad after work at a bar and finally told him what I was considering doing.  He bought me a drink and congratulated me.  No joke. Then again, I should not have been too surprised given that this is the man that told me JUST before he walked me down the aisle that, “you don’t have to do this you know.  You can call it off and we can still have one hell of a party.”  Needless to say, he wasn’t a fan of my ex-husband.  It took a bit of time (and I’ll blog that whole story someday) to finally ask for one and at the end of January I moved back home with my Dad.  Boxes were EVERYWHERE in the house and paths went from here to there due to literally just throwing things down and adding more to the pile.

After a week of moving and boxes I wanted a night out.  I went and saw some Collin Farrell movie with a friend who was OBSESSED with him and another friend called when I was on my way home begging me to come keep her company while her fiance’s band played at a local bar.  I agreed even though all I really wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed.  So as my luck would have it as soon as I stepped out of my SUV, I stepped on a patch of ice and down I went, ruining my new shoes that I ADORED.  I still miss those shoes but they had a wood sole and were destroyed.  Sniff.  I felt my ankle snap after the fall and while there was no immediate pain, I knew that it was bad.  My cell phone was in my SUV – which while it was close it was also UP.  I was totally stuck and unsure what to do.  So I did what any other self respecting woman would do, I whipped up some tears as soon as I saw a couple cute guys coming near me and asked for help.  They helped me hop into the bar, my friend was retrieved and off to the ER we went.  Long story shorter – I had a broken ankle and not just an ordinary one!  I had an S shaped break through the joint which required surgery.  YAY!  I saw an orthopedist and surgery was scheduled for that Friday.  Valentine’s Day.

Up until this point in my life the ONLY surgery I’d had was when I had my wisdom teeth out.  I’d narrowly avoided one as a child for a clogged tear duct (I was just being put under when they discovered it’d finally broke loose) but other than that I’d been lucky.  I was scared shitless.  I was a total absolute wreck.  On top of that, my Dad’s first question about my surgery was where the closest bar was.  I loved him to bits but staying sober was never one of his strong suits.  This meant I had to call in reinforces – which was my ex as much as I hated to do it.  He wasn’t very kind about it either but agreed to come.  I had also needed him to get prescriptions and the like for me while I was out and since we were still married he could do that for me.  My surgery went well, so well that the nurses were SHOCKED with how fast I came out of it in post-op and how quickly I was “normal” and ready to leave.  My ex left while I was in surgery when my Dad decided not to go to the bar so I had the added bonus of not dealing with him post-op, BONUS.  In the end, it all went swimmingly and the day was okay.  However I’ll NEVER forget that absolute craptacular Valentine’s Day.

As for the BEST Valentine’s Day ever… it’s quite silly but still warms my heart.  I can’t recall the year but I’m thinking it was my Senior Year (definitely know it was when I was in high school).  My Dad usually always left for work long before I would wake up for school so I never saw him in the morning (and if he was up when I got up I generally avoided him as he was NOT a morning person).  When I opened my eyes as they were adjusting I was so confused.  My room was always a mess and I knew there was something odd but while my eyes adjusted I couldn’t figure it out.  Eventually things became clear and I was able to make out a box with an item perched on top.  I got up to inspect it and my Dad had left a box with a stuffed dog (puff a lump style if those recall them!) with a rose in his hand.  You could tell the hand was designed to hold something as it had a clip like mechanism in it.  I’m guessing it was from Hallmark or something similar – at that time I think he was working at a mall (he was a local union electrician so worked all over).   Regardless, I was so touched that my Dad went out of his way for me like that and surprised me.  It’s rare that I am surprised by gifts and this one shocked me!!!  I wish I’d thought to preserve that rose.  To this day it amuses me that it’s not a gift/event from a romantic partner that I remember but a gift from my Dad!

What was your best and worst Valentine’s Day?  Do you celebrate it or not?

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Resolutions

I always intend to make resolutions, really I do.  However, I know myself.  I’m not one of those people that have a lot of what some call stick-to-it-ness.  I really stink when it comes to resolutions.  I have NO willpower.  I just don’t.  I am lazy.  Yep, confessed lazy person here.  If you are appalled, run away now.  I won’t mind I promise.  So I know better than to do resolutions and even TRY to make an attempt at going a whole YEAR working on them, why set myself up for failure.

Last year I resolved to lose weight (didn’t happen) and make my bed every day (did great until April, then crash and burn).  In fact, the only resolution I’ve EVER made that stuck was putting moisturizer on every night.  The only reason why that worked was because it wasn’t a resolution on New Years but was something I decided to start doing when I saw friends my own age start looking 40+ because they’d loved drugs, alcohol and/or tanning too much.  I’ve not taken the best care of my skin and decided to start then and there.

Resolutions are just a way to make you feel even worse about yourself – at least in my experience.  So I’m not doing any.  Are you?

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