The Day After Valentine's

Dear Blog,
  
   Sometimes I think, not all the time, that as a male of the species, I stumble through life's little adventures quite unaware and inconspicuous in my corner of the universe; until we are interrupted with all the loud and demanding voices of this world. St. Valentine is one of those voices from the past that begs our time and attention; so many different ones, but the one that we, perhaps, call to celebration every February, comes to us compliments of Geoffrey Chaucer in the 14th century...nesting love birds they were known as, in February of course.
   So, what does that have to do with anything? Well, I tell this to my Blogmate that I may recall this moment in my life at some future time, to remember that life is really all about Love, and its callings. This year, we, my partner/lover/wife/beloved critic, assembled our offerings days in advance; ones of carnations and cookies amid the gloomy days of another winter stuck inside our home; still got the flowers, but apparently I ate all the cookies.  For the 14th, we planned on Mexican entrees from our local family restaurant of twenty-eight years. Called - couldn't reach them. Drove there - closed due to family emergency. Bummer! So, we made spaghetti instead with toasted garlic/butter flat bread and watched another episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel - love that show. Just another day? Yes, but, one that I'll remember as a nothing special or outstanding, except for the intent of remembering Love and its rightful place in this sometimes wild and crazy world we live.
   Enough with the rambling stream of consciousness blah-blah... You ask why write this? Tis because - nice English - words are how we let others know our thoughts and feelings; they are our personal messengers which convey meaning in life and connect us with that part of us that's supposed to know what's going on. There's always room for more love in life.
​   Thanks for the listen.