I spent Valentine’s Day at home hanging out with my two favorite guys, and it was nice. I had not planned to take the day off, but our city fell victim to the snow followed by ice followed by snow that hit a goodly portion of the northeast. We live on a major road, so if our street is bad, it’s just not worth venturing out. Based on the spinning of tires all day (even with about a dozen passes by the plows and salt trucks) I didn’t second-guess my decision at all.
I’ve not ever been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. When you’re single, it just sucks all around. When you’re dating, the pressure to do just enough but not too much for the other person is awful. And when you’re married, well, you’re married, so does it really matter that you give someone a goofy card with a red heart on one day of the year? No, it really doesn’t. So, A and I pretty much agree that if we manage to say “Happy Valentine’s Day” to each other that day, ok. If not, no biggie. This year I decided to teach Gabe to say it. It came out like Happa Vateens Day- so we had to call the grandparents and share it with them.
The ice phallus has grown another six inches (it’s a full 3.5 cinder blocks high now). It’s getting close to the point of toppling over...when it does I’ll take a picture of the fall of the great phallus.
And, for those besides Tinker who wondered about the source, it’s the spot right below the condensation outlet from our high-efficiency furnace.