Weaker Than Expected

Sometimes, probably once every couple months, Wonderful Husband and I will thaw a packet of breakfast sausage and do pancakes and sausage for brekky on a weekend.

Following that with tonkatsu for lunch is apparently not a good idea.

The combination is too rich, too heavy, too much meat or something, and I'm contemplating (since I should have something to eat before I go to bed) what in my fridge will cut through that. Currently the forerunner in my mind is the refrigerator dill pickle spears I make....

Planz / The Little Things

So, there's this holiday coming up this week. I'm sure you've seen stuff for it in the stores. In fact, I'm sure you (like me) have been seeing stuff for it in the stores since before Christmas. And, yes, there are the arguments about which of those two holidays is more commercially driven, but usually I don't make much of a big deal about my holiday celebrations, unless it involves me cooking for a lot of people. Which Valentines Day does not.

But being amused by the glut of commentary on sites I read, like Get Rich Slowly, xkcd, and (NSFW) Oglaf, I am hereby spelling out my feelings and plans, for the entire internet to not care about. :)

Since my writing class teacher is taking a two-week cruise next month, we're getting doubled up classes this week. My entire Monday and Wednesday evenings will be spent in school. Which leaves V-Day free for various shenanigans. Said shenanigans will be exchanging cards (no gifts, we've agreed) and going out to WingNuts for dinner and there trying maybe half a dozen different flavors of chicken wings.

This is actually our annual tradition. It's not expensive, it's fun, it's quirky, and most importantly, we enjoy the food and don't have to wait for a table. Because Valentine's is not an obligation; it is a day to stop and acknowledge how much the two of us mean to one another. But it is far from the only day we show our love for one another. I make him tea almost every morning to show I love him. He not only puts up with, but learns enough about my obsessions to make intelligent commentaries on Transformers when I go on rants.

It's the little things, the common everyday things and how we behave toward one another, that show our love to each other. Not flowers, chocolates, and promises you never intend to keep. It's been eight years of marriage, and several more of dating before that, and I am still caught in the orbital well that is being in love with my husband.