Intermission
OK, it seems that I didn't communicate that well about February being cursed. Which is why I really didn't want to break it into two parts. But my penchant for tedious detail is just far too strong, to make it one post. I have received a few e-mails hinting at "maybe I am being just too darn shallow about Valentines day." This is about February being cursed. Not just that intrepid Holiday.
Unfortunately my attention to detail does not succeed, where the memory has slipped. In other words, I cannot remember ALL of the little nasty details of February, from days gone past. Not that I am excusing this sorry excuse for a "Holiday." It sucks, plain and simple. This is a day that takes a magnifying glass to people's loneliness, and makes them painfully aware of their status as single. Alone. For a full 24 excruciating hours.(And yes, I am aware not everyone feels this way, who is single. This is my personal opinion, not just based on my personal experience by the way. But by those of some of my single friends as well.) The air reeks on this oh so special day, of an attitude of "WHO loves you?" And where is the monetary proof of it? And we, who are married, a lot of times perpetuate this, by flashing "the goods" in our officemates, friends, and loved ones faces. Those who's desks lay bare of flowers, candy boxes, etc.
As I have aged, this in some ways has become less prevalent. And singles are more pro active then in the decades of past. The womens movement, shows like "Sex and the City", even dating sites online, all celebrate singledom. And I'm all for it! I just don't see why we need to take a day, and demand our spouses, boyfriends, significant others and partners run out and spend money to up the sales of flower shops, candy shops, and card companys. It is rediculous. And I have for many years now, put a moratorium on any such behavior on this day. Much to both of my last two husbands delight. The pressure is off. They don't have to find that perfect somthing or other to make me feel special and loved. I make me feel special. And they did/tried as well 364 other days a year.
So I ask, as I write here in my personal blog, to please hold the judgements, about my total shallow attitude as I write about childhood, teenage and early adult attitudes toward Valentines days gone past. I don't apologize for them either. They helped shape who I am today, and I like who that is. Wrong, right, deep or shallow.
And, on a lighter note, I received this e-mail from my adorable husband, whom yes, I have convinced as well, that February is cursed. (And done so not by my attitudes, but by the sheer number of mishaps that happen horribly, in this month) One other side note, I have g/f's who are born in Feb. whom I celebrate their special day with. February is only cursed for me. Some friends have even named other months, where they say, they hit the wall due to circumstances that pile up during their "cursed month".
OK, let me first explain, that my adorable husband, is a top executive, at a big company. He dresses impeccably. (I have the dry cleaning bill to prove it) Once actually in January he came home from a long day at the office, and unloaded the normal stuff of his day. We were chatting amicably, when I looked down at his feet, and saw he was wearing two black dress shoes, NOT the same style. He had gone completely thru his day unaware he was wearing different shoes. I can't even imagine the snickers that may have played out, as underlings noticed their boss, wearing two different shoes. I know personally I would have had a hey day with it!!!
So here is this mornings e-mail from my Knight in Shining Armour:
Subject :
February curse
Inbox
February struck again today.
I left the house, got your smokes, then head for work at 6:10. I get to the
garage after a fairly easy drive at 6:30. I get out, glance down at my
feet--and see I wore a black shoe and a brown shoe.
For a second I contemplated trying to make it through the day that way, but
fortunately, I could hear you in my mind saying, Are Your CRAZY??
So I went back home, got the right shoes, and spent in all another hour and
15 minutes on the road.
I love you babe.
I need a hug.
Your hug.
I realize, that to some, this would seem like a small thing, really. And it is. What you will see in part two, is that it is a consistent string of "small things" that adds up to a straight jacket and padded cell.
I guess what I am doing here, is purging myself of somthing that in years past, I have been completely neurotic about. That I allowed these things to steal my humor and my joy out of 28 days. I would sink into depression and fear, literally allowiing "the curse" to control me completely. My mother would often console me, with the only thing she could think to say, when faced with the myriad of mishaps; she would say, "Cheer up Tamber, at least February IS the shortest month of the year."And I applaud her for trying....
Unfortunately my attention to detail does not succeed, where the memory has slipped. In other words, I cannot remember ALL of the little nasty details of February, from days gone past. Not that I am excusing this sorry excuse for a "Holiday." It sucks, plain and simple. This is a day that takes a magnifying glass to people's loneliness, and makes them painfully aware of their status as single. Alone. For a full 24 excruciating hours.(And yes, I am aware not everyone feels this way, who is single. This is my personal opinion, not just based on my personal experience by the way. But by those of some of my single friends as well.) The air reeks on this oh so special day, of an attitude of "WHO loves you?" And where is the monetary proof of it? And we, who are married, a lot of times perpetuate this, by flashing "the goods" in our officemates, friends, and loved ones faces. Those who's desks lay bare of flowers, candy boxes, etc.
As I have aged, this in some ways has become less prevalent. And singles are more pro active then in the decades of past. The womens movement, shows like "Sex and the City", even dating sites online, all celebrate singledom. And I'm all for it! I just don't see why we need to take a day, and demand our spouses, boyfriends, significant others and partners run out and spend money to up the sales of flower shops, candy shops, and card companys. It is rediculous. And I have for many years now, put a moratorium on any such behavior on this day. Much to both of my last two husbands delight. The pressure is off. They don't have to find that perfect somthing or other to make me feel special and loved. I make me feel special. And they did/tried as well 364 other days a year.
So I ask, as I write here in my personal blog, to please hold the judgements, about my total shallow attitude as I write about childhood, teenage and early adult attitudes toward Valentines days gone past. I don't apologize for them either. They helped shape who I am today, and I like who that is. Wrong, right, deep or shallow.
And, on a lighter note, I received this e-mail from my adorable husband, whom yes, I have convinced as well, that February is cursed. (And done so not by my attitudes, but by the sheer number of mishaps that happen horribly, in this month) One other side note, I have g/f's who are born in Feb. whom I celebrate their special day with. February is only cursed for me. Some friends have even named other months, where they say, they hit the wall due to circumstances that pile up during their "cursed month".
OK, let me first explain, that my adorable husband, is a top executive, at a big company. He dresses impeccably. (I have the dry cleaning bill to prove it) Once actually in January he came home from a long day at the office, and unloaded the normal stuff of his day. We were chatting amicably, when I looked down at his feet, and saw he was wearing two black dress shoes, NOT the same style. He had gone completely thru his day unaware he was wearing different shoes. I can't even imagine the snickers that may have played out, as underlings noticed their boss, wearing two different shoes. I know personally I would have had a hey day with it!!!
So here is this mornings e-mail from my Knight in Shining Armour:
Subject :
February curse
Inbox
February struck again today.
I left the house, got your smokes, then head for work at 6:10. I get to the
garage after a fairly easy drive at 6:30. I get out, glance down at my
feet--and see I wore a black shoe and a brown shoe.
For a second I contemplated trying to make it through the day that way, but
fortunately, I could hear you in my mind saying, Are Your CRAZY??
So I went back home, got the right shoes, and spent in all another hour and
15 minutes on the road.
I love you babe.
I need a hug.
Your hug.
I realize, that to some, this would seem like a small thing, really. And it is. What you will see in part two, is that it is a consistent string of "small things" that adds up to a straight jacket and padded cell.
I guess what I am doing here, is purging myself of somthing that in years past, I have been completely neurotic about. That I allowed these things to steal my humor and my joy out of 28 days. I would sink into depression and fear, literally allowiing "the curse" to control me completely. My mother would often console me, with the only thing she could think to say, when faced with the myriad of mishaps; she would say, "Cheer up Tamber, at least February IS the shortest month of the year."And I applaud her for trying....
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