We don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. Actually, I don’t celebrate it. I’m sure Garry would if he thought I’d enjoy it because he just likes holidays. I think it’s a fake holiday invented by greeting card and chocolate companies. The whole point of the holiday is to get people to spend money buying “the perfect gift.” The more expensive, the better.
The best part of this holiday — for me — was being a little kid and cutting out red colored-paper hearts and pasting them on doilies. Since my mother didn’t go for this kind of thing either (gee, I wonder where I got the idea?), I had no one to whom to give my valentine, but I really enjoyed cutting out the heart and gluing it on the doily. I liked the art. It was the holiday I didn’t care for.
But, my feelings notwithstanding, it is Valentine’s day and I have a lot of pictures of roses. our roses mostly, but some boughten ones too. Garry loves giving me roses. I always feel bad for them because they wilt and die so quickly, but I appreciate the sentiment. We have an agreement to not give me chocolate. Between my teeth and that I don’t like chocolate nearly as much as I did when I was younger, there are other sweets I like better.