Martha May Toast

So it is the day of Love.  Amore.  Sweethearts.  Romance.  Valentines Day.  I helped Isabelle make cute little valentines for her class.  Maybe there is a special boy in her class she is hoping will give her a special valentine.  I don't know.  I know I always hoped the boy I liked would give me a special valentine.  Sometimes it happened, sometimes it didn't.  I think the anticipation is almost as fun as the actual getting.  Young love is so cute.

Skip ahead to a marriage of almost twenty two years.  Yeah, not so cute.  It's familiar.  Comfortable.  Predictble.  But not cute.  I know he'll get me something for Valentines Day.  He's good about that. Whenever he takes one of the kids with him to "GolfSmith" the Saturday before Valentines, Mothers Day, Christmas or my Birthday, I know they're shopping for me.   He even had the forethought to make a reservation online to a restraunt for Valentines.  Predictable is good.
  He came up with a new nickname for me today.  In the past few days my hideous feverblister has made me look like I'm from whooville.  He thought I should be the hot, talented whoo so he called me Martha May.  And my hair soaks up any smell from what I've cooked that day.  My head is at nose level for him so he always smells my hair.  It usually smells like toast for some reason.  So Martha May Toast was born.   I wasn't mad or upset.  It's Familiar and Comfortable.  It made me laugh.  It's what we do.

Happy Valentines Day.  I hope you get that Special Valentine.