Let me begin by saying I loathe Valentine’s Day. Read that carefully. Loathe. NOT love. It’s pure hokum, all these guys put under pressure to get a ooey gooey card, roses (double gag), and an expensive, romantic dinner out. It’s utterly ridiculous. And I don’t play. Never have. Don’t participate because it’s required of you. Make your person feel special on a regular day because you want to.

Now that that’s out of the way.

My day began at the office, like any other Thursday. I was in full Valentine’s Day attire, because if you wear black people accuse you of being bitter and hateful. Even if it is true, I don’t need to hear it. Plus, I like pink and glitter. And that’s not always acceptable on a Thursday. But on Valentine’s Day it is! So I donned my heart print Lularoes, XOXO Y’all shirt, red shoes, and off I went.


I also had a pink light up flower for my hair, but even I will concede that’s a bit much for the morning hours.

Baker the Baker popped in with some delicious morsels right off the bat, flitting through like Cupid.


It wasn’t long before my momma showed up, bearing gifts. I had already warned her I wasn’t in the mood for sweets. I’ve been hauling my fat ass to spin twice a week and killing it, even though I don’t have anything to show for it. I was not going to backpedal. Quite literally.

But she had a surprise in store for me, yesiree. I got something I’ve been wanting for a long, long time.

All the hearts. All the books. Yes, yes, YES. There were other non-fattening treasures in the bag, but this was definitely my favorite.

Then she asks me if frog alley is still in existence.

Me: “Yes, you’re basically almost standing in it.”
Mom: “I knew it was close, but I didn’t know if they cleaned it up like everything else.”

Me: “Nope. Still here. Just go straight through that stop sign right here, and you’re there.”

Mom: “There used to be a monkey chained to telephone pole down there.”

Me, whipping around, : “WHAT?!?!”

Mom: “Yeah, they used to fight him.”

Me: “WHAT?!??!”

Mom: “Yeah, he used to box. They’d take bets and men would fight him. He had a big ol’ loggin’ chain that he was chained to the telephone pole with. He was MEAN!”

Me: “Ya reckon??? How’d they get him loose to fight him?”

Mom: “He was a chimpanzee. He was so mean!”

And y’all think MY stories are crazy. So there’s that. If anyone remembers more, feel free to comment. I feel like there is much more to this story.

I had to go get icing for the cupcakes I was going to make, and you can imagine what Food City looked like. Harried looking men dashing around, shoelaces undone, hair mussed, holding a dozen roses in one hand and a heart shaped steak in the other. What a bunch of malarkey. THREE chocolate covered strawberries were $11.99. I could eat a lot of tacos for twelve bucks. I got my icing, I got my bacon, and I got the h-e-double hockey sticks OUT while the gittin’ was good.

Came back here, found a sick Amber (my DC), fixed her some chicken noodle soup out of a can and handed her a pack of stale crackers to go with it. I didn’t know they were stale until after the fact when she returned them to the kitchen with only one or two missing from the sleeve. I tasted them and realized. They’d never been opened, but I guess it doesn’t matter. I fixed myself two chili dogs with onions because I wasn’t gonna be doin’ any kissin’. And then I realized in order to make cupcakes, one must have a cupcake tin. I had one, but it was 15 miles away. No cupcakes today, after all that stress at the grocery store.

Then it was time for my daily promenade around the block with Aquaman. I just made that up. It’s not REALLY Aquaman, because if I was walking around with a superhero it would be Batman and we wouldn’t be walking, we’d be riding in the Batmobile and I would have on his cape and be throwing spikes at annoying people. I digress.

On this trek that we take nearly every day, we have run across many interesting things: a bird’s nest, a geological survey marker, a water bottle painted up like a pig (complete with corkscrew pink pipe cleaner tail), a lemonade stand, a heart shaped stump, a postcard with a picture of a bear and a trash can but no message…you get the idea. Today, we had just begun, and here’s all this crap piled out by the curb. We’re picking our way around it and notice there’s some pretty good stuff there. A couple of walking sticks, a comforter that would match my pillows on the couch, all sorts of treasures. I’m terrified of bedbugs after working at the Co-op so long and selling chemicals to seemed like everybody in the county, so there was no danger of me taking anything but then I saw a book.

“Hey, look, a Grisham!” I said.

“Take whatever you want, this lady moved and left all her stuff. I’ve been cleaning out,” a man said, coming around the corner. I recognized him as one of my former customers, and asked him how his dog was. It was ever-present.

“She’s good, she’s right there.”

The beagle ambled out, trotting to keep up with him.

My attention was diverted by Aquaman heaving a big white trash bag bulging with books to the top of the pile.

He grinned.

“I’ll help,” I offer, opening the bag to see the bounty. All kinds of Grishams! And more. He got three, we tied the bag back up and walked on. He blew cat hair from the covers. Why I did not take a picture of this, I will never know.

I could not stop laughing. Only WE would ever dig through somebody else’s trash to find books. Good Lord. We’d just been to the BOGO sale the day before for our “exercise”, but did that stop us? Noooooo. I elbowed him in the ribs as we walked. Then I told him the story of the man we had just spoke to. He makes a world famous meatloaf for his neighbors.

The secret ingredient is Science Diet dog food.

I shit you not.

In roughly a mile our walk concluded, with plans to meet back at the library for the speaker at 5:30.

I made a call to Ray Ball to check and see what sort of sound equipment he needed for my conference coming up. We chatted a minute, but I hated to hold him up while the sun was a shinin’, I knew he was trying to work.

“I love you,” he said just before we said goodbye. So SWEET. I love Ray Ball.

Most women could be found shaving their legs or washing their hair yesterday evening. I was sitting attentive among a few good friends at the library, waiting for Art Bohanan to start imparting his knowledge of forensics in local murders, both of the solved and unsolved varieties. I didn’t go to gain tips on murder, either, just so you know. Although I certainly picked up a few helpful hints. I put my light up flower in my hair for the event.

Art is very down-to-earth, to be so famous. He’s extremely likable and began his talk by right away bringing up the “Kmart Indians”. Everybody knew exactly where he meant and it set the mood for fun in the face of this gruesome horror. The room was packed and he had everyone’s undivided attention.

The hour and a half chat flew by. We drank coffee and munched on cookies provided by the library. It was a purely delightful time. Especially since the cookies were clearly labeled. I don’t like mystery nut cookies, so my selection made me absurdly happy.

After it was over, I stepped around to hug my friend Malinda that I’ve not seen in a couple of years. “I just love you,” she said when we broke apart.

The emotion I felt in that sentence made tears spring to my eyes immediately. What is it about that sentence? You can tell when somebody really means it.

I got home and bantered back and forth with a Hispanic I used to work with. He told me he was my #1 fan, which made me laugh super extra hard, and that I was good, good people. Which made me smile and shake my head. I’m a mess, is what I am. Not even a hot one. One that does her best, has always done her best, and realized she fell short on many occasions. I’m not a beautiful disaster, I’m just a disaster, trying to do better. I don’t learn from my mistakes (not even about bringing a bag for my book sale haul) but I just keep moving forward. Because I have to. You have to. We all have to.

That’s the thing about Valentine’s Day. I found love in unexpected places all day. It was the best Valentine’s on record.

What’s love got to do with it?

Absolutely nothing, and absolutely everything.


P.s. I made my cupcakes today, a day late. They’re not perfect by any stretch of the imagination (I ran out of cupcake liners) but I think they will spark joy. Angela, I’m sorry I didn’t offer you something to drink with them. I’m not a good hostess, obviously.