No thorns on this one

Twenty-two years ago today, we celebrated our first very first Valentine's Day together as a couple. Eighteen years ago today, we were married.

Today, let me share our first Valentine's Day memory.

An entire week before the big day, Bill would read florist's marquees, "$59.99 for a dozen roses. Wow! $39.99. I'm going to buy you a dozen red roses."
"No, a dozen roses would not make me happy."
"How about half a dozen?"
"No. Please, no roses. It's crazy to spend that kind of money. I'm way too practical."
"How about one rose? I can even get it from 7-11 if it's about money." He's always been my funny honey.
"Cut flowers do not make me happy. They remind me of withering relationships, sad endings, not happy beginnings. Please do not buy roses. They will die."

We had been invited to a Valentine's Day dance with a group of friends. He knew how much I wanted to go, but he had to work second shift. I'd see him at midnight. He said we'd go dancing on the weekend. As a utility company shift worker he had missed so many of his own family's functions over the years, and I knew how it saddened him. "I'll make it up to you," he promised. "Roses?"
"NO! I mean it."

I walked into the house after work, dreading the bouquet of roses I thought I'd find. But what I discovered on the counter made me laugh out loud.

On top of the pile of mail instead, was this 8 inch long post card advertisement from a well known local florist.

When I read Bill's inscription, my heart pitter-pattered. The chocolate-covered strawberries lasted two days.

This one, long-stemmed, red rose has been hanging on the side of our fridge for more than twenty years. It is a simple, thoughtful memento that I will always treasure, and like my funny honey, it makes me smile every day.

Here's how my writing paid off 16 years ago

The other day my husband read what I wrote for a contest about my morning routine. I begin my day with a prayer that ends, "and please-please let my husband sleep another hour so I can write in peace and quiet." He is taking it quite literally. I hear him stirring in the bedroom, biding his time, waiting until the half-hour before he makes his appearance. On this, our wedding anniversary and also Valentine's Day, he is giving me a gift that I truly appreciate, time to write. Of course I am writing a love note to him about the three men I love: the child who resides inside the big hulk, the centered man who makes me feel loved and who helps me clearly see both sides of any issue, and the paw-paw who demonstrates over and over how every man should treat women and children.

Some of you know that my writing is responsible for my second and third wedding (to this same man I've been with for twenty-one years. Sixteen years ago, I wrote a parody song for a radio contest and won a complete Valentine's Day wedding package. We were married in the glorious Grand Hall(upstairs)at Union Station with ninety-seven other couples. It was televised and broadcast live on Y 98, and also over the intercom at the middle school where I worked at the time.

Bill and I had scheduled our wedding for April; my best friend was travelling from Boston to be maid of honor and her husband was best man. So, although we married on 2/14/94, we married again in April. Actually, Sheila and Bruce were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary, so we all repeated our vows again in the presence of family and friends.

Here are two of the verses I can still remember to the parody song I wrote.
Tune: He Ain't Got a Barrel of Money

Oh, he ain't got a barrel of money, he might have a big old tummy,
but we'll travel through life; I'll be this man's wife, standing side by side.

Oh, he likes his ice cream and candy, but I think this big guy's just dandy;
young love's exciting and new, ours is like an old shoe...I love my big old guy!

So, writers out there, think out of the box. You never know where your writing will take you or how it will pay off!