Valentine's Day Loot

Like most of my generation, I do not check my mailbox with the same attentive regularity that I check my inbox or my cell phone or any number of the various social media sites I frequent; in fact, since my mailbox resides all the way below me in the lobby of my building, where I rarely tread since I can enter and exit directly into my parking lot from my floor, I often neglect to check it for days. An embarrassing, probably irresponsible number of days. Like this past week or so. Since, other than a few bills that come towards the end of, or the beginning of the next, month, my mail consists of a mountain of unwanted Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupons and a tome of equally unwanted letters from various local insurance agents, my routine usually works out quite fine for me.

This afternoon, deciding to clear out the advertising circulars and other flotsam, I was then pleasantly surprised to discover, hidden between coupons, three Valentines. While I feel badly that they sat unopened for a bit, realistically, I am thankful I extricated them from the insurance crap and opened them, still mostly in the vicinity of the holiday. The first was from Hartley, a dear friend from university, ever beautiful and bubbly and warm. Just the type of thoughtful gal who would send out cards for this day, one to remember friends and loved ones, near and far. After a too brief stint in the city following our graduation, she is now back up north, in the true upstate area of New York, in an incredibly bucolic and rustic town that, honestly, looks like so much fun, despite the five months of extreme cold. I continually talk about how much I want to joy-ride up there and pay a visit, go on a boat and drink beer, see the stars, and hopefully sometime later this spring, talk will become action.

The second was from lovely and sweet Katherine, sister of my spirit; in addition to her wonderfully thoughtful card, which brought a tear or two to my eye, she included a package of fun treats.

Growing up, despite numerous attempts with various kits, I never had a friendship bracelet; this orange braided piece that Katherine designed is a simple, elegant, and more mature variation, that still exudes the sentiment of a close, intertwining bond. In my mind, the two amber beads represent us. At my core, I am a total sap, soft like molasses.

Katherine also included this fragrant bar of lavender soap, handmade with olive oils and botanicals. This is exactly what my dry and depressed skin needs, after a harsh winter.

My mother and I have a wiener dog joke; what began as some silliness, following a local antiques fair, has now morphed into a palpable force. She used to be infamous for her infinite supply of monkey-themed cards, for any and every occasion, and now, for me, the wiener dog is the winner, triumphant and haughty. Inside: On Valentine's Day, Edna gave Jack her heart, Jack gave Edna his wiener. The puns never tire.

Last, but not least, the filmmaker killed two inside-joke-birds with one hilariously awesome stone: a wiener dog slide whistle. Appropriate, given my unavoidable love for those short and squat pups, and for my recent, often laughable, slide whistle impressions, usually in an effort to add some of my own home-brewed special sound effects to my life. Now, my shortcomings in mimicry can be forgotten, because I have the real deal; never mind that, as a close reading of the package indicates, this treasure is intended for toddlers, to foster fine motor skills and discernment of tone and pitch. This is fun for all ages, at least all who still harbor their childhood at heart.