VALENTINE’S DAY. A made up holiday heralded in with jewelry commercials featuring
cheesy jewelry (Jane Seymour anyone?) and *chocolate* diamonds–good marketing for the brown diamonds that nobody wanted.
This year, I’m reclaiming Valentine’s Day. My ex insisted we get married on Valentine’s Day so I’d remember our anniversary. I sometimes still forgot *and I’m not going to get into it, but yes, the divorce-that-wouldn’t-die drags on*.
Because I don’t own a lifetime supply of Brain Bleach, I’m rebranding my own Valentine’s Day tradition.
I’m sending small little reminders of affection to some of the people in my life that mean the world to me.
I sent a completely unromantic John Wayne calendar to First Reader and a little something-something to mail to my favorite five-year-old. I love to send him *mail* because you should see this kid’s face light up over mail. Yours, his, the neighbors–doesn’t matter. It’s MAIL!
I’m also taking a carload-full of leather coats, beautiful sweaters and books to the women’s shelter, because who needs to reclaim Valentine’s Day more than these women?
Valentine’s Day should be more like Halloween (and it kind of is). Optional and maybe fun.
This year, I’m ignoring the anniversary and reclaiming the day. I’m dressing up the dog, doing a small splurge on myself, and meeting some girlfriends for dinner. Do something different. Invite folks over for dinner, send a little kid some mail. And call your mama.