Valentine’s Day is filled with enough tritely sweetened sentiments to make your teeth ache. It's tacky, over-commercialized… and pretty fun. The kids made a morning Top Pot run with Stumpy for Valentine’s Day doughnuts, and really, if you can’t celebrate Valentine’s Day by eating fried dough topped with sugar, when can you? There was a properly déclassé heart-shaped doughnut, which… well, I can actually smell the sugar in the frosting from across the room. I’m afraid, even though I don’t have diabetes, that it is entirely possible that eating that thing would send me into a diabetic coma.
Still. Smells kinda good.
The idea behind the Top Pot run was, sweetly, to let me sleep in. Of course once they got back, the kids were so excited (and hepped up on the frosting from their own doughnuts) that they were bringing me breakfast in bed and letting me sleep in that they kept bopping into the bedroom for kisses and to tell me they were letting me sleep in and then! they had a surprise! Finally, I pulled them into bed, tickled them, and had my breakfast. They could have done worse than 8:30.
After, we had some semi-traditional blood orange juice, with the kids begging me to voice the oranges to their doom (as in: “Hey. Hey, kid. You look pretty nice. You wouldn’t want to send a poor orange to become juice, would you? I have a family depending on me, sweet little orange blossoms back at home. Hey, no. No. Don’t do it, kid! Ow! Ooooow! You little creep! Aaaarrggghhh.”), and then enthusiastically downing the juice they made with glee. I made cards for the kids, which is something of a tradition, and thus: my cupid uses nerf weapons. He does (note the garish orange and yellow arrows in the quiver), too. The other was for my hockey-saurus, with a T. Rex skating in a pink and purple jersey. It’s… less traditional.
Happy Valentine’s Day. Enjoy the lovey cheese of it all. Maybe with a nice chevre.