Monday, February 14, 2011
Saint Valentine's Day
When my daughter was "sending" her first grade cards (from several packages), we worked from a class list. She picked a card for each person (giving careful thought) and then had to print her name. S A M A N T H A on each card. This process took many afternoons of patient mothering as she carefully printed her name. I wished many times that I had named her A N N. At school she was working on her decorated Valentine "mailbox" as I had done so many years before. Two years later, my son, with an equally long name, worked his way through his class cards.
I never had a "boyfriend" during the 12 years I was at school (or even the four away at college). I blame it on my dysfunctional family life and my seriously antisocial responses to overtures of friendship. I have no fond memories of Valentines. Until, I had children. And their joy and happiness in the box full of Valentines drifted into my heart. I think that is why I was sad yesterday. I hadn't remembered to make and send my cards in time. To my children and to my friends. It means a great deal to receive a sweet little Valentine, to be remembered, to be loved.
The furnace techs are here to fine tune and clean up the crawlspace. The sales rep visited. He says "call every time something doesn't seem right; we want you to be happy with your purchase." I mentioned to everyone that the new furnace was louder than the old one. I had thought it would be quiet. I wish it was quieter. I had trouble falling asleep last night with it going on and off so often. They are checking on that today. Electricity and water. Always a trial for G and I.
G was gone to work at 4.30 am when the restaurant called to find him. His first day back at work. First day on his feet for 8 or 9 hours. His leg muscle will be aching and he will be exhausted when he gets home. I am baking a rhubarb custard pie for my Valentine.