Saints and Lovers

With a proclaimed day of love approaching I've been reading articles on planning a perfect Valentine's Day. Mostly this is just fun entertainment for me—any real planning causes panic; I don't expect to be doing any of it. While reading these great articles I noticed how many people caustically wrote that we don't need a holiday to do something nice for a loved one. That it's a Hallmark tradition meant to bleed wallets. In general a slight disgust for the holiday they try to promote with ideas of gifts, rendezvous, date activities and romantic dinners.

I decided that in honor of my first Valentine's marriaged to Gripper, and in honor of Vegas Stacey who L-O-V-E-S this day, I would stick up for the Saint who risked his life to marry lovers. Though the Roman Emperor decreed marriage illegal during time of war (he believed men without families were better soldiers), Bishop Valentine married couples in secret, and was executed for it.

Maybe Valentine's isn't such a rip-off. Maybe it's a day to appreciate marriage, your spouse (present, past or future) and believe in a binding love.

The chocolates, candy conversation hearts and possible flowers? Party favors.



More Valentine's trivia:
http://www.sheknows.com/holidays-and-seasons/articles/807655/fun-facts-about-valentine-s-day

Thanksgiving Tales

Part 1: Embarrassing Family Moments

I hold a firmly rooted belief (undoubtedly founded on Gramps claiming the Halls as the best) of my luck at being born into my family. In return I believe them to feel lucky to have. This Thanksgiving shattered those beliefs and now I'm certain they hope to give me away in marriage.

Sitting around the browned turkey my cousin Chris engaged me in a round of teasing and bantering. He told me about his recent break-up, sharing details not meant for parenting ears but clearly we'd captivated the kid table. Then he posed a seemingly innocent question. When had I last been in a relationship?

Beginning with my aunt at the stove I heard the silence wrap around the room spiraling to me. A mute button so pronounced that I heard the strands of my hair brushing against each other, moved by the wind of my slow exhale. I felt my uncle stop mid-step behind me, balancing a bowl of homemade rolls. Even the chattering babies had quieted in the gathering awe.

Looking up confirmed my fear that 34 eyes peered at me unashamed. I, the quiet and shy one, had become a painted target. As I said they'd like to give me away in marriage. I hung my head in response and waited for the commotion to ensue.

The creeping warmth in my cheeks prompted me to remember other moments of humiliation my family has provided me.

* Phil calling to me from the deck, "Breezey you come up here by me and let Heather work with Kellie. You're too pretty to play catch."

* "I like the dress alright, but it looks a little tight across the chest," says my dad of my junior year Homecoming dress. Apparently I developed at 16 and he just noticed.

* Mickey Mouse ears.

* Gramps urging Grandma to check me out during Christmas dessert shouting, "LuAnne look at her. Doesn't she have a nice figure? I don't know why she's not married."