4 Surprising Reasons My Husband Is My Favorite Valentine.

My husband P.J. makes a pretty darned good Valentine. The best I've ever had, in fact. Sure, he's terrific at all of the "expected" gestures, but here are four reasons (which may surprise even him) why I'm totally bonkers for him this Valentine's Day:

Circa 2007. Bewitched and be-hoodied. 

-Over the years, I've received all sorts of trinkets and tokens of affection for Valentine’s Day. They ranged from the good (bling) to the ugly (an exit line explaining why he doesn't “do” Valentine’s Day)…but up until P.J., not one person had ever gifted me Valentine Shoes. And absolutely, there’s way more to building a life together than the kind of presents received, but I’d be a wicked big liar if I said it wasn't a major factor in me asking him to move in.

-He knows all of my secrets. For example, marrying a girl of half Middle Eastern descent entails an [impossible to hide] amount of upper lip bleaching, tweezing of various locales, and a downright Costco-esque supply of razors. He has never once shuddered at these things which his eyes cannot unsee. Never once. 

-Since meeting P.J., all of my past dates and relationships have been set in stark contrast. I had been involved with some truly awesome people (although not the right ones for me) as well as some horrible man-children (also not the right ones for me)…but it took marrying the perfect one for me to see that I would've made a terrible vegan farmer’s wife. Or a hipster’s other half, complete with rolled-up skinny jeans and a superior air about home brew. I would've stunk at living in NYC. Or LA. Or in a van. But finding a mate with whom to wear hoodies, unironically high-five over a vinyl Richard Marx album, and fall asleep in bed watching Mad About You? That feels like home. Nerdy, can't-believe-I'm-sayin'-it-on-the-internet Home. 

-Because of P.J., our kids are (and will be!) wonderfully crazy. His tinfoil hat-wearin’ paranoia merged with my hyperactive enthusiasm for whimsy? They’ll be the ones listening for messages in Beatles songs…and then making up a hand puppet jig when they find them. 

Thanks for making my Valentine's Day- and the rest of the year- so wonderfully fun and glittery, Peej.

The glitter could be a byproduct of your daughters.

But I'm pretty sure it's all you.

Is This A KISSING book?

Next, I shall paint my sister.

It's totally almost Valentine's Day. And I have plans.

Huge ones.

For starters, Nora and I have already chosen pink and red outfits for ourselves. And for baby Susannah. And for P.J. (Sorry, P.J.)

We've lined up a few messy, glittery projects for the day- among them, a fabulous Martha Stewart craft that will either a) light up our home and 'hood with sparkly loveliness, or b) burn down the block.

I'm planning on pestering my best friends, sisters, and parents with badgerly texts of enduring love. They will reciprocate. Or I will be forced to use my phone to call. Or Skype. Or hit them with it at the next available juncture.

Breakfast and lunch will be eaten off of potentially non-food-safe decorative plates and platters adorned with hearts and cupids. Doilies- the ones not shredded by safety scissors- will most likely line the kitchen table, and holiday napkins will be utilized. (And if Nora decides to eat only one bite of each thing, I will not force the issue. Because on a day of Love, we all get to do what makes us happy. And if the crusts do not make you feel full of Love, then- by all means, Nora- do not eat the crusts.)

A Valentine's Day nap will be had. For it is a holiday, and I always nap on holidays. (Always.) And even if Nora and Zuzu aren't really feelin' this one, we shall nap. This differs only slightly from the Full Of Love rule mentioned just prior to this one. (Food is food, but sleep...? There are rules.)

There may or may not be an awesomely decadent dessert project in the works...which may or may not lose all of its Wow Factor due entirely to the two year-old sous chef leaving her own special li'l mark on the treat, on the counters, on the walls, and on her little sister. But I bet it'll still taste really good.

Dinner will be a ridiculously extravagant affair, naturally. What will she be preparing, you might ask? Is it her husband's favorite meal? Nope. Her favorite meal? Not so much. It is, in fact, the toddler's favorite meal; eggplant parmesan, extra parmesan. (Getting to wash the red sauce out of her hair that evening will just add to the day's festivities.)

And there are presents, obvie. Since neither girl (to the best of my knowledge) knows how to read/has internet access...I can spill the goods. An Angel Cake friend of Strawberry Shortcake's for Nora. (Since, every time she plays with her "Strawberry Girls," her sad refrain is: "I don't even have Angel Cake.") And for Susannah, a pink sock monkey. (By the time she reaches adulthood, she'll either have a deep and abiding affection for these sock monkeys...or a definite and very real fear.) And for P.J...

NICE TRY, P.J. You'll have to wait and see. (But hint: It's covered in glitter and fingerprints. Actually, that's not so much of a hint. Everything in the house is currently covered in glitter and fingerprints. It's one of the cats- surprise!)

But I do have a list of expectations for this bright n' shiny day. And it doesn't even include flowers. (Because P.J. brought me purple tulips yesterday. He knows that Holiday Flowers are way trumped by Any Ol' Day Flowers.) And it doesn't include couples massages or fancy dinners (because you cannot get fancier than our eggplant dinner- you cannot) or jewelry or even songs dedicated on the radio (a la Live 105.5. Anyone?)

I would like a Valentine from my husband. The kind where he's actually sealed the envelope. (He's notorious for not sealing the envelope, which comes off looking like it was just handed to him on the darned train. Invest the time! Seal the envelope!)

It would be great if we could watch one of the most romantic movies of all time. Here's the trifecta: The Princess Bride, The Thin Man, and So I Married An Axe Murderer. (As You Wish, William Powell, and Haggis? I'm swooning.)

Maybe a crossword puzzle in bed. Especially if I'm allowed to hold the pen, sparing me that sideways-head-cramping-my-shoulderblade thing that always happen when people share crosswords.

I live large, I know.

Wishing you a Valentine's Day of love and unironically played power ballads,
Keely

Zuzu Wishes To Watch Wonder Pets, Says Nora.

Who's ready for the theatre?
THIS GIRL.

'Twas a good weekend. A great one, in fact.

I went on three- count 'em, three- dates this weekend.

Date One was with my husband to see the stellar Sky's The Limit, Weather Permitting at Second City's etc stage ('cause we know people in the show)!

Date Two was with Nat n' Rachael n' P.J. to see Underworld: Awakening in IMAX and 3D...at the behest of Nat n' me.

And Date Three was with my darling Nora Jane to see Emerald City Theatre's Snow White at The Apollo.

During Date One, P.J. screamed "Apple!" and "Korean!" at the improvisers, much to their dismay. (They hate "apple.")

During Date Two, Nat and I screamed "Too close, too close!" at the screen while bone fragments and glass flew at our faces.

And during Date Three, Nora screamed "I DO NOT LIKE HIM" at the magic mirror. Also, she requested that the lights come back on, please- I SAID PLEASE.

We also started ramping up for one of my very favorite holidays- Valentine's Day. This year's cards prove to be some of my favorite yet, most likely because I've [started to] let go of my OCD tendencies of card perfection and allowed my miniature Jackson Pollack wannabe to take over as Art Director. The result? Lots of glitter. The surprising and completely non-limiting choice of holiday and calendar stickers. Color pairings  that ought to hurt the eye...but somehow make us really, really happy.

And sure- absolutely- glitter has ended up in the bathtub, on dinner plates, between Susannah's toes, etc., etc., but I think we can all agree it's all worth it in the grand scheme of things. (Sorry, Suzy.)

This Valentine prep has completely derailed such tasks as Completing The Book For An Interested Party, Tweaking A Play So That The Ending Makes Sense/Doesn't Anger The Reader, and Pre-Treating The Baby's Laundry With Stain Stick.

I am just now realizing that in all of these stories, Susannah is getting the short end of the [stain] stick.

We'll make it up to her. In fact, we'll spend the rest of the day doing whatever she likes best.

As translated/decided by her big sister, Nora.

(Blanket tents and warm cocoa for everyone!)

Say it with clowns.

Way too big for love.

It's Valentine's Day! That wonderful time of cellophane and glitter and overindulgence and tutus and sugar-crash naps.

This year, I've included a pic of Nora's valentine for everyone to see. First things first. You may be asking yourself why the card is so garishly big. Noted. And. Secondly, that is a grapefruit next to the valentine for size comparison.

Here is what went down. I made a handful of normal-sized valentines for the usual crowd. Nothing crazy opulent; just a nice graphic, some cool textured paper, a fancily scrolled phrase or two. Cinchy. But could I do that for Peej and Nora's cards? No... I happened upon this really fabulous site that featured vintage Valentine's Day images. How could I resist? Sure, the lack of a functional printer (long story) and a positively bewildering experience with FedEx Office led me to believe that I ought to have resisted in the long run. (I could more easily land a jet with their convoluted and excessively powerful website than do a simple upload. When I unchecked a box for 'collate,' the site crashed. It's two pieces of paper! Put them in any order you like!)

And of course, I had to be fancy. I ordered the two images to be printed on transparency paper. Why? Dunno. Maybe to justify paying six bucks for a simple procedure. Perhaps to alleviate my guilt at not dealing with the printer. Or it could just be 'cause it looked more awesome that way.

So. Yes. The hugeness. Well, I sized each image to 3x5in and sent them along. Got a confirmation of such. However, when P.J. returned home from running errands with the two pictures in a folder (I had asked him not to look- IT WOULD RUIN THE SURPRISE), I found that they had blown them up to near life-size. I did not feel like returning them. (Surprise, honey! Your wife is lazy! Here's a terrifyingly big graphic!)

And without giving away any details of P.J.'s card- other than its largetude- I can totally acknowledge that perhaps the images would have been charming in a slightly smaller size. I fear that at the current measurements of Nora's plastic clown, it'll put her off of valentines/clowns/transparencies forever. (Also, guess what the toughest material is to glue anything to? You got it! Transparency paper!) I hope she enjoys her wobbly, mushy, mildly threatening declaration of love. Happy Valentine's Day, daughter.

We also celebrated the day by making a sizeable donation of housewares and clothing to the Epilepsy Foundation. (It's really not that philanthropic- they picked it up from my front stoop. Does my laziness know no bounds?!) Also, perhaps my intention of saying 'I love you' to the Epilepsy Foundation will not be as well received as I had intended- I chose to say it with mismatched steak knives and oversized shirts with hilarious verbage. How they read into it is entirely up to them.

On Saturday, P.J. and I went to Bonsoiree, a delightful- and redonkulously expensive- French/Japanese fusion joint o' small plates. (We used a gift certificate from OUR ENGAGEMENT. Yep, that would be four years ago this April.) It was eight courses of awesome. I embarrassed myself by openly weeping over some of the dishes. And yes, sure, I might have made some of the teensy pieces of food talk to one another. But for the most part, I was quite adult. (Except for when 'Long Time' by Boston came on. Did I mention they had the best B-sides classic rock mix playing? I almost moved in.) Another highlight came towards the end of the meal, when P.J. and I could not determine if the couple recently seated next to us were old friends, a hot new item, or brother and sister. It was- at once- hilarious, quaint and disturbing. This is so true.

And now I must finish preparations for tonight's fabulous gala in the dining room. I call it- We're Having Dinner In The Dining Room. It will include mammoth valentines, something I should probably decide upon and begin to defrost, and a few trinkets purchased via Amazon. (And, funnily enough, I know what every single item is! And here is why! My husband, ever the practical gent, decided the free shipping option on my Amazon Prime would be the best to use. And then, afraid that I'd figure out what he had bought me, he went into my email account and deleted the confirmation email from Amazon. Unfortunately, I had also bought his present from that same site. Killing all semblance of surprise on his part when he spied that email. And when he forgot about the 'item shipped' email that would come later, surprise died on my end too. It's like a bizarro, reverse Gift Of The Magi. For lazy people using the same online account and credit card to buy each other items under ten bucks in cost.)

Ain't true love grand? (Answer- yes. Always yes.)

  I made it to the Top Five for Parenting Blogs! Go vote!

It's also All You Need.

I could use a little Valentine's Day.

Now, before a horde of angry and over-holiday'd anti-consumerist solo flyers attack me for my God Awful ways like so many rabid geese...

...lemme 'splain.

The kind of Valentine's Day I want is of the second grade variety. That's right; first-rate, second grade. And here, in no particular order, are the five best reasons I have for wanting such a thing:

5. There is nothing in the world quite as awesome as having a cute boy write your name on a love note/paper with a piece of glued-on candy. There are people who will argue that there are many things better than this but they are WRONG. (And they are also probably: a) of the aforementioned first paragraph group and b) bound to see this little list fail.)  And sure, these days I'm pretty limited to which cute boy brings me what kind of paper...so maybe this is all a thinly veiled request for my husband to bring me something to eat. And to write something on it first.

4. Cellophane and shiny red paper makes my heart flutter. Who couldn't use a good heart flutter? (Except for people with pacemakers.) There's something about really fancy paper that makes even the dreariest, froziest, Chicago-for-seven-straight-monthsiest day seem a little more special. And maybe- just maybe- during the midseason break of my programmes, I need something a little bit more special than sugar free pistachio pudding. (That last comment was aimed at no one. I'm sure he meant well.)

3. No mailbox has ever been as special to me as the one that I folded and taped to the front of my particle board desk in Mrs. Hodsoll's classroom, Highland Elementary, Pittsfield, Massachusetts, 01201. There was a feeling of anticipation that could not be matched- certainly not by any city mailbox attached to a chainlink fence in any part of Chicago, 60618. I don't know what the heck kind of missive I was expecting- I don't think I even kept any of them past Valentine's week. (You didn't celebrate the whole week?) Maybe it was just the notion that something mind-blowingly wonderful COULD find its way in there. When's the last time you stood and anxiously watched your mailbox, knowing that today, SOMEONE was going to DELIVER something WONDERFUL. (They had to! It was a classroom rule that you had to give out Valentines to everyone!) I guess what I'm saying is that I'd like my mandatory overwhelming correspondence. And I'd like it to be a surprise.

2. Love is a many splendored thing. It also keeps us together, lifts us up where we belong, can't be hurried, will lead you back, will never do without you, don't cost a thing, is a rollercoaster, a hangover, a power, a glory, a vision, a dream, all around, everlasting, hot and justified. (And yes, sometimes it bytes, stinks, hurts, won't wait, is tainted, fools fall into it, and it makes you a prisoner.) You'd do anything for it- but not that. And sometimes- only sometimes- it grows where my Rosemary goes. (And nobody knows it but me!)

1. And lastly- though not leastly- the best declarations of awesome are of the found art and free material variety. They always have been. It's January 6th. You officially have five and a half weeks to find a doily and glue a Hershey's kiss to it. You've all been given a pretty decent heads-up.

Although...come to think of it, if you find a piece of candy on the ground...leave it be. Really. Just a simple doily will suffice.

A simple mammoth one with questionable amounts of glitter.

Oh, fine, THIS makes me uncool?

I love Valentine's Day.

I LOVE Valentine's Day. Back in grade school, I used to love the holiday so much that it physically made me sick from excitement. I'd pick out my fanciest, sparkliest, flounciest skirt and/or whimsical animal top and spend possibly too much time choosing necklaces, bracelets and earrings (after second grade) that screamed hearts.

Okay, I still do.

Back then, I'd painstakingly craft Valentines for every member of my class, every teacher, librarian and Room Girl. (Did you guys ever have Room Girls or Boys? They were the fifth graders responsible for marching the younger kids down to the cafetorium every day at lunchtime. I later become one. It was an awesome and heady responsibility.)

I also spent the equivalent of a part-time job making my desk envelope AS WELL AS a bedroom door envelope. You know, for all of the Valentine overflow? My "workshop" was my bedroom closet, a narrow, 70s-style sliding plywood door number- I'd periodically remove everything from the floor (mainly on heavy work days- it was also a detective office when necessary) and pull on the chain light for optimum crafting conditions.

I signed every card with a personal message and a bold, glittery "Love, Keely," delivered them with seizure-inducing excitement and waited for the magic to happen. (In third grade, a kid I'll refer to simply as "Chris" brandished his in front of my face with a defiant wave. "Love? Love, Keely? You love me?" Buffoon.)

And the party? Oh, God, the party. The last hour of the school day was when we pushed our desks into, you know, party formation and got to open envelopes, deliver any last minute Valentines (I always tried to look extra deserving) and eat baked goods that have forever defined my image of the holiday. (Susen Andrews' Mom, Janet? God bless you and God bless those mammoth pink frosted heart cookies.)

Except here was the problem.

I'd get so crazy excited the night (heck, month) before, that I'd usually be running a low-grade temp the morning of the class party. My Mom, savvy to my enthusiastic and potentially self-damaging glee, would sometimes allow me to go to school for the morning and "See how you feel." (It wasn't the plague, after all, it was a self-induced pre-sugar high.)

I usually didn't make it to noon. Sometimes I even puked.

The car ride home always, always involved tears.

The teacher would have packaged my Valentine envelope and a few treats for me to take home- but it wasn't the same. Valentine's Day usually involved a late afternoon nap and dinner in my jammies.

BUT THE DINNER!

My parents were always darned festive, too, and Valentine's Day dinner was a shiny affair, complete with a "fancy" table, red cellophane-wrapped wondrousness and trinkets waiting at our place settings. (They probably only cost a few dollars, but red beads and velvet bows are the stuff from which memories are made- clearly.) We'd have a dinner of "favorites" complete with dessert- dessert was not always present for Flynn family dinners, but when it was it could be counted on to be epic- and, of course, opening of the bedroom door envelopes. I sometimes helped the twins open theirs. Heck, I usually helped them MAKE their envelopes. (They were allowed in the secret office- they were quite smallish and didn't take up much room.)

Now, I'm sure my folks had different ideas of what a "perfect" Valentine's Day would be- a quiet dinner, a non-animated flick, a full night's sleep without their secondborn ending up in bed with them- but for me? The memories of this one day have permanently shaped how I feel about the holiday.

This is why I do not get when people oppose a "Hallmark holiday". It's based on an actual saint who helped marry persecuted Christians- nothing Hallmark about that! But sure, now it's a Corporate Scheme and we're all inundated with ads for precious gifts and expensive bling.

You know what else is a Corporate, Spendy Holiday? July the 4th. You could choke on the ads for beer and grills and boats- BUT YOU DON'T SEE PEOPLE PICKETING THAT ONE, do you?

I spent the weekend with Peej and Nora, watching a trifecta of Batman Begins, Blade: Trinity ("Use it...") and Down With Love (which, crazily enough, ends happily IN love!), and they all strangely jived. Naps were taken with various, pink corduroy-clad gals and pajama pants-clad, coupon-happy men. Okay, one of each.

I cooked ZERO meals (while, funnily enough, P.J. prepared a handful of my favorite recipes on the face of the planet) and we exchanged gifts that totaled twenty bucks. Not exactly DeBeers, but you should totally ask P.J. to show you his travel mug with Nora's, well, mug on it. Awesome.

Spent the past few days calling, texting, emailing and Skyping loved ones to say just that, and received more than a few glittery cards in the mail. Which will be visible on my dining room table for a month. I love Valentine's Day.

And when Peej asked if I wanted to get a sitter and go out for a "grownup dinner" on the town? I passed on that one.

I have my own little gal now who gets unbelievably stoked with anticipation for a fancy holiday and for whom February 14th will always be an epic day.

I can just tell.

My B.

That's what my brother-in-law Tom says when he does something wrong. My B. It's almost like saying "my bad" is gonna take up too much time; let's just lock & load and fix this thing. My B. 

Anyhow, I'm terribly sorry for being such a lax blogger. My [B]B. 

Posting is the only thing I've let slide in the recent rush of deadlines and activities...except maybe advanced personal grooming. (Is that an acceptable use? You know, when people are mucca busy they say things like 'I haven't even had time to pee!' (I always, ALWAYS make time to pee) and 'I don't even have time for basic personal hygiene.' I try to stay on top of that, but I think the next level would be 'advanced,' i.e. eyebrow plucking and bi-weekly exfoliation.) 

I think it would be fun to list the themes about which I'm writing and editing...just to give you an inkling of why I can't sleep "dreamlessly:" two boyhood friends arguing about coming of age and Chicago-style hotdogs, an updated 'And Then There Were None' (and shortened to under 45 minutes), a virtual date between two music junkies and commitment-phobes in an era of technological relationships, a murder mystery spanning 2 decades and ending in a midwestern circus, editing a shoot 'em up thriller for a literary manager pal, and [recently finished!] editing my youngest sis' short story about a man outrunning his personal demons. 

Add the 50+ hours in my work week and, (for some bizarre reason) the pressing need to organize every nook and closet within 3000 feet of my bedroom and donate all the excessive stuff to charity, and it equals a tired me. Plus, our pal Matt (Hi Matt! Stop reading my blog and go do your work- and no, Bejeweled Blitz does not count) has been staying with us for the past 3 weeks (he does dishes, so he= awesome), but P.J. and I have been a two-person show for a few years and a third party does make for a new dance of sorts. We're also either traveling or having someone stay with us every week/weekend until the beginning of April- which is great, truly- but as everything is due by March 15th...

Whee!

Also not helping the situation- people who do not use their bodies the way they ought during certain transit situations. For example, the other morning I was running up the southbound Addison brown line stairs behind a TALL MAN WITH LONG LEGS. Who was walking. Ambling, really. I missed a train because, although I was racing my stubby legs like a hamster on a wheel, Daddy Longlegs (who could have taken the steps three at a time, no prob) decided that this was the perfect venue for his morning constitutional (a guy I knew once thought that meant 'using the bathroom'- that is not the definition of which I speak). Anyhow, I think it is the civic duty of all the stretchy people out there to not block the already-too-narrow steps with intentional sloth. I said it.

And since I had failed to update since the 12th I also missed wishing everyone a happy Valentine's Day! I have always loved this holiday, ever since I was a little kid and craved cellophane-wrapped hearts, overflowing desk envelopes and parties that I would get sick in anticipation of. (Really- my mom had to pick me up early for multiple years' classroom parties...I would make myself ill even BEFORE I overindulged in too much candy. I was excitable. It was sad.) My parents always used to make a special dinner and give my sisters and I small presents at the table. To this day I obsess over making handmade valentines and calling friends all over the country to tell them I love them on that day. Also, I overdo the wearing of the red. 

This year was pretty sweet. P.J. and I usually get each other something kinda teensy and symbolic, plus I always make the biggest, sparkliest card for him...

He got me a 42 inch HD flat screen television.

I got him a new pair of gloves.

He also took me out to Turquoise for din, but by that point I had already decided to let him win arguments for the next...month. (I'm trying, anyhow.) The rest of the night was spent playing Mortal Kombat on the Wii...very largely...and seeing how clearly bad computer graphics would appear in the movie 'Blades of Glory.' (Awfully clearly.)

I am almost rabidly looking forward to lounging on my couch and watching marathons of Law & Order...

...in April.