And So It Begins...

...The ranting about Valentine's Day. I was single for a looooong time: I understand the angst.

This post (and the commentary which follows) is probably one of the more intelligent and well-spoken in the "genre".

My first married Valentine's Day was last year. I don't remember what we ate, who got what (if anything) or how we celebrated. I remember falling asleep listening to my husband sleeping close beside me in the singing soft light of the moon.

What gift is better?

This year we're having a "proper" Valentine's Day with another couple (our married foodie friends). We're going to a fabulous place and having dinner. (We've been there and they haven't.) We were going to take them there for the wife's birthday but could never get our schedules together. So we ended up doing it on Valentine's Day because that's when everyone could get off work, not because we're trying to outdo any romantic notion of "real love".

The red dress I bought was purchased before the dinner plans were made because red is my favorite color and the dress looks HOT on me (if I may say). Now I have an excuse to wear it. I'm sure we'll have a blast -- just like we would have if we'd gone two weeks ago, when I would have worn my new red dress anyway.

There are 364 other days in the year that matter. And the best memories we carry with us are unplanned, unexpected and way more important than dinner and a red dress.

(Still looks hot, though.)