Here we find ourselves, Sweeties, just two days away
from Valentine’s Day – a made-up holiday that shines a stupendously stunning spotlight
on love and let-down.
I’m all for expressions of amore, but let’s face
facts: Valentine’s Day can be a major
stress factor in a relationship. Years
ago, during one of my many professional ventures, a colleague spent Cupid’s day
fuming because her husband did not send flowers to the office. A
downright downer during any given minute, this gal’s downer-ness exploded to
massive proportions by the end of this particular Valentine’s workday. I went out of my way to drop by her cubicle,
my own flowers in hand, to express my genuine (i.e. half-hearted borderline
snarky) sympathies before leaving.
They later divorced.
I’m not certain if her flowerlessness contributed to the demise of their
marriage, but I’m sure it didn’t help matters. She made the mountains- out- of-
mole-hills concept into an art form, and I felt both sorry and relieved for her husband
when I heard of their split.
And don’t get me started on those awful jewelry
commercials inundating us at the moment, sending the message that no woman is
completely happy unless she’s got some sort of reduced-price diamond hanging
off her person. This sort of nonsense
only adds to the ‘special princess for a day’ concept that women buy into
figuratively and men buy into literally.
Ridiculous.
Give me something I can use.
Like a pink ukulele.
That’s right.
When Mr. Newman asked what I wanted for this pretend (and might I add
pretentious) celebration, I gave him my standard answer: nothing.
He’s persistent, though, so I finally gave in and told him to get me a
pink ukulele. I’d love to improve upon
my already (non-existent) musical leanings, and I’m confident that a P.U. will
assist me in doing so. And P.U. is what
the masses will cry when I take my act to various open-mic nights throughout the
greater Houston area.
Speaking of musical geniuses, did you catch that
fabulous Beatles tribute the other night?
My only ‘wouldn’t it be cool if... .’ thought centered on a Sir Paul,
Ringo, Dhani Harrison, and Julian (not Sean) Lennon jam session. I was thrilled, however, when Dhani took the
stage with Jeff Lynn and Joe Walsh, and equally elated when Sean stayed in his
seat and kept his yap shut.
Speaking of keeping one’s yap shut, I’m finding it
more difficult to do these days. I
lovingly informed a fifteen-year-old girl last night that the reason I would
not join her in her second bag of microwavable popcorn is because it’s full of
chemicals and if she wanted to dig herself an early grave, go for it. ‘Chew with your mouth closed, please, and get
back to your book,’ I added.
Speaking of books, I’ve always been against the
banning and burning of them, but have changed my tune upon reading Shirley
Jones’ memoirs last week. Poorly
written, poorly edited, and chock-full of TMI (and not the good kind), I’m
tempted to ask for my money back, but I can’t because I checked it out of the
library, so I’m tempted to simply turn in my library card.
Speaking of Temptations, I ain’t too proud to
beg: please, might we all settle down this
Valentine’s Day and stop pressuring our beloved into wasting money on pointless
tokens of love? I’ve a very dear friend
who used to tell her children that they could have anything they wanted as long
as it wasn’t advertised on television.
An ingenious notion, in my humble opinion.
You don’t see any pink ukulele advertised, now do
you?
All you need is love.
If, however, you’re forced to reveal your deepest
desires this Valentine’s Day, take a good hard look at yourself. What do you really want? What speaks to you? Remember, it’s not a competition, even though
the media has made it such. Just because
Jane Seymour says you need necklace doesn’t necessarily mean that you do. Just because those broads in the office next
door get the standard candy and flowers doesn’t mean you should. Get creative.
C’mon, get happy.
Speaking of happy, I do hope you have lovely
Valentine’s Day. I really mean it.
(Coming up on Elegant
Musings: Will Mrs. Newman receive
the pink ukulele from Mr. Newman? If
not, will she actually make a withdrawal from her ‘Facelift Fund’ and get it
herself? Will the popcorn munching teen’s
mom pay up for the two-months of tutorials Beth has so generously offered like
clock-work each and every week? Tune in next
time….)
