He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

He loves me...

He loves me not...

He loves me...

...despite all my shenanigans.

A little white angel sat on my right shoulder this morning telling me to offer it up. I listened - at first. The other one with the pitch fork continued to nag me on and off throughout the morning. The big mistake; I dialoged with it. He remembered this deja vu moment last year and deviously jotted it down in his little black book: "Remember to visit her on Valentine's Day. She'll be a little tougher next time, but I don't think she has quite caught on to us yet." GET behind me Satan! Hissing commences. Do I bark about the flowers AGAIN or just pretend that I like them? The spiritual battle continues and after a couple of hours I cave in; a text goes out. I won't type what I said to the knight, but I can tell you that Jesus was not very pleased.  After all, the Knight did remember Valentine's Day and bought flowers well in advance and kept them in my son's closet. He was thinking of me. He cares. At least they are not RED roses this time. It IS an improvement. Cough cough. But only two sprigs of baby's breath? Guess he didn't remember that I like A LOT of it.  I'm a bad wife I am (said with an Audrey Hepburn accent like in My Fair Lady.) I offset the text on purpose and in the same mean paragraph about the ingratitude for the pathetic flowers, I included that one of the teens got TWO tickets from the officer last night. First, I surprise him with the nastiness, then I lessen the blow with something worse. Diversion method. Sneaky, eh? So this weekend I'll drag my sorry ass to the confessional. Again. Bless me father for I have sinned. Remember what I said and did last year on Valentine's Day? Well I did it again. Only this time I didn't threaten divorce;-)

I have some splainin' to do;-) It really wasn't about the flowers. I suppose I may have misjudged it as inattentiveness. After all,  I reasoned, the Knight can religiously keep a log about all the car repairs and changing the oil on time and keep records of service repairs, BUT HE GETS HIS WIFE OF 20 YEARS FLOWERS FROM THE LOCAL GROCERY STORE and didn't heed years of me telling him all about the kind I would of have really liked.  Sad. Don't you just want to slap me?

Maybe it's shallow of me, but I am not one to say "it's the thought that counts." I like presentation, too.  And I will tell you that these flowers were thrown into the vase, left in a basement closet and set out on the counter this morning before work. I noticed. happy valentine's day, said eeyore. BUT,  I believe in miracles (and forgiveness!) The grocery store bouquet was wilting this morning. They were in the beginning cycle of composting. Okay, fair enough, that is a slight exaggeration. Anyway, I gave them some TLC. First, I cut over two inches off the bottom of each stem and pulled off any greens that would set below the top of the vase line. I pealed back all the outside layers of wilted petals and tore them off. Then I rearranged them all in the vase, added a recycled bow and they were tolerable to behold. As the day progressed, the ones that were wilting livened up and by the end of the afternoon they looked like cotton candy. Scrumptious! These were not the same flowers I awoke to!

Elizabeth's flowers from her boyfriend that were dropped off by his Dad since Aidan lives states away. How sweet! He's a keeper.

There is a little too much grump going on in this residence these days. We'll allllll have to work on that this Lent.

Don't we look smart with our new European glasses? Or at least smartass-ish? I could have told you about some unrealistic heavenly Vanetines Day, but I took the path less traveled.