A Many Splendored Thing

Even the rooftop of Wild Thyme has been struck by Cupid's arrow! It's a good thing. As I've said before, I love Valentine's Day. My husband proposed to me on Valentine's Day, so I'm particularly sentimental. I love every hokey, over-the-top, shameless bit of it. (And the chocolates aren't bad, either.)

I know, you don't have to tell me, I've heard it all before: Valentine's Day is just a promotion created by Hallmark and we should know better than to join in. Moreover, every day should be Valentine's Day, and we don't need society telling us when to express our love. Please! It's like saying not to watch the Superbowl because you're a football fan all season.

So, my fellow romantics, here's to making such huge, lovesick fools of ourselves today even Nicholas Sparks would tell us to cool it. Here's to giving our children a reason to shake their heads at us and say, "gross." Here's to dozens of overpriced roses and countless recitations of sonnets. Here's to smooth jazz and aftershave. To champagne and caviar. To short skirts and long nights. To rekindling fires and stirring flames. And if you find yourself without a special Valentine this year, here's to realizing that Cupid is a sneaky little bugger who thrills at the idea of catching you off guard.

So here's to being off guard. And open. And when you reach into that little box of Sweethearts candies, here's to getting the one that says True Love.

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.