I Heart Very Little About V-Day

So...yeah...it's Valentine's Day in two days. The day my romantic side is supposed to shine. Unfortunately, that's too much pressure for me, and I'm just not very romantic in that cosmetic kind of way. Lucky for Husband, neither is he.

Altogether, with the exception of making of valentine's with the kids (see this year's heart fish above), I'm really turned off by Valentine's Day. Two shining examples of why, both overheard on TV yesterday:

1) In a Pajamagram commercial: Some blah, blah blah about "we know how to get her to take her clothes off."

2) In a Vermont Teddy Bear commercial: Some blah blah blah about "where can I get a guy like that?" (One who gives Vermont Teddy Bears.)

I'm being a little overly sensitive to both of these ads, to be sure, but I'm glad my kids weren't home when they ran. How pathetic are both of these messages about the roles of women in romance? Not to mention the shallow suggestions that Valentine's Day is all about getting naked or getting your guy.

Early on in our relationship, Husband and I flirted with Valentine's Day. Because we were supposed to, I suppose. One year -- about 22 ago -- he gave me a red bear with a white heart on its chest. (I'm pretty certain he shanghaied it from his mother's bear collection.) And every year since then, he reminds me that he once gave me that bear. I heard about it again just yesterday, and frankly, it's good enough for me.

I fully know that I'm being an old goat and that it's a little sad that we don't really give a shiz about celebrating our relationship. But heck, we could do that any day of the year, right? If we wanted to. If we were both in great moods all day. If the kids weren't home. If, if, if...

Like I said, too much pressure.

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Look, Look, A Monk

A week ago yesterday, a Saturday, I was busy doing laundry, cleaning the house, and getting packed for a business trip to California.

I left on Sunday, arrived back home on Friday night, and spent yesterday, a Saturday, doing laundry, cleaning the house, and unpacking from a business trip to California.

Just one of those funny little inner circles of life...

Sidebar: While I was gone, Max celebrated his 100th day of school. As you can see from the picture, he made a 100th-day crown. Five days later, he's still wearing it. He loves to don hats/headbands/crowns -- especially ones he crafts himself. My other kids wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything other than a ski hat or a baseball cap. Not Mr. Beat of His Own Drum.

So I've been traveling back and forth to/from California for about 3.5 years. At first, I flew out about four times a year. For the past year, I've been out there every six weeks or so. The trip sounds a lot more exciting than it usually is. I'm typically gone for 5-6 days; two days of travel and three to four days of relatively intense work/meetings in the office. I almost always stay at my friend Romy's flat where, as I've often said, I live the life of a single urban girl for a few days. (Really, we eat in, wear sweats, play with her cats, and watch a lot of TV, so maybe it's really the life of middle-aged woman having a sleepover...)

A few observations/experiences from my most recent visit:

On people and diversity: "Look, look, a monk." This, a quote from Romy as we were driving down the street. Funny thing was that the monk, walking down the street, was carrying a new DVD player and a bag of purchases from the Office Depot. I thought monks lived a life of austerity, but maybe they watch movies too.

On food (and drink): Romy and I usually try to squeeze in one nice meal together, and we almost always order sparkling wine. So "city" of us, don't'cha think? The other "must have's" on any trip include a good burrito and a Zachary's deep-dish spinach and mushroom pizza. "Nice to have's" include a morning bun from the La Farine bakery in Berkeley.

On transportation: I never rent a car, choosing public transportation so that I don't need to fight the traffic for which I no longer have the nerve. Riding the BART train presents a perfect opportunity to listen to my iPod, which Husband always loads up for me when I travel. This past week, I most enjoyed on BART an NPR Fresh Air podcast of a Bruce Springsteen interview and a recent podcast of Chicago Public Radio's "This American Life" radio show.

On weather: 60s in California; 10s in Vermont. Not much I can say about this that isn't obvious.

On work: I always enjoy connecting up with people in the office, but the intense vibe makes me forever grateful that I work from home.

On shopping: Once in a blue moon I splurge at the Anthropologie store in Berkeley. My suitcase always suffers from a visit to Target though. Vermont is the only state in the lower 48 that doesn't have a Target. Not much I can say about this that isn't obvious either.

On friends: During my past two trips, I stayed at my colleague and friend Amy's house for a few nights. She has two kids, fourth and second graders, and I always get a big kick out of talking to her kids and seeing that I'm living a somewhat parallel parenting life on the opposite side of the country.

On coming home: Always the highlight of my trip. It takes a day or two to re-enter and adjust back to the time zone and my roles at home. Surely, the complete opposite of Urban-Girl Loft Living. Plus, it's cold right now, and it's not likely I'll see a monk walking down the street. But I wouldn't trade it for all the Targets in the world. Clearly, I need a pair of ruby slippers...

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Just Another Monday

I'm traveling this week, so Husband is running the homestead. The following is an email he sent me describing his Monday:

"3:00am - Cat starts whining. I finally get up at 4am to scold her and close the bedroom doors. I don't get back to sleep until 5am. Of course, I find out later she peed in the bathroom again. We're changing her litter box crap back to whatever worked before. In fact, tell me what it was and I'll go get some tomorrow. Think I'm leaving her outside tonight.

I get everybody out the door just fine. I'm beat, so I took a nap. Struggled to get some work done; not a very productive day.

Take the kids to TKD. Max and I go to the grocery store. I take my time so as to eat up the hour. Get to the check out and I don't have my wallet. Now, I gotta rush home, get the wallet, blah blah blah.

Come home with the groceries intending to make hamburgers. Turns out, after all that, they didn't give me my hamburger buns (and a few other things). So, we have hot dogs. I later find out, Mia brought in one bag of groceries and left it in the mudroom; the bag that contained the buns.

Off to piano. Max and I come home. He's playing Wii. He starts yelling for me because he has crapped massive amounts of diarrhea in his pants. At least nothing leaked and he was in the basement bathroom, so I threw him in the shower and threw his underwear away. The dogs were good today."

There is so much here that is a "welcome to my world" reality. I'm not really laughing, but it is a little funny that the string of bad luck ended in diarrhea, because I just can't imagine that it gets any worse than that for Tom.

All I can say is that that goodness for the dogs that they had a good day...

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