Very Valentine

I consider myself pretty lucky that for the past 38 Valentine's Days, I've been assured of a date for the evening. Not that we always celebrate in style, especially in recent years. Sometimes sprawling out in our comfy clothes on the couch with some popcorn, a glass of wine, and a good movie on the DVR is everything our little hearts desire. Occasionally we're at our home in Naples on Valentine's Day and then we tend to do it up right, with a fancy dinner at Bistro 821 and a stroll down 5th Avenue. Oddly enough, two of my most vivid Valentine's Day memories don't even involve my husband. The first was the day I received my first marriage proposal. I was eleven years old, and it arrived in a handwritten note mailed to my house on Valentine's Day. It was from a boy in my class with whom I'd been in hopeless puppy love all year. "Dear Becky," the letter said, in his best loopy cursive. "When we grow up I want us to get married. We will move to Canada and live on a farm, where we'll have horses and cows and goats and sheep and cats and dogs. I love you very much."

As you can plainly see, it was a memorable missive, although even then I wasn't too keen on the whole farm thing.

The other Valentine's Day memory that is particularly special is related to my uncle, the one who passed away in 2009. When I was three years old, he started giving me a box of chocolates for Valentine's Day, and every year after that, without fail, he brought me a box of chocolates on February 14. Didn't matter what else was going on, I knew I could count of that box of candy from him every year.

Until 2007, when Alzheimer's Disease stole his memory and he forgot all about Valentine's Day. I never thought I would miss a box of candy so much.

Valentine's Day - like most of those "Hallmark Holidays" - gets pretty short shrift around our house. We tend to say, "Oh, we're too old for all that nonsense." Or "Don't buy me anything, there's nothing I really want."

But perhaps we shouldn't do that.

Because it's not about being young or wanting things, is it? It's more about being noticed- about someone taking the time to buy you a card and a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates. It's about doing something that makes you special and cherished.

And there's no age limit on the desire for those feelings.

I really do appreciate having a steady date for every Valentine's Day - not to mention every other day of the year.

Perhaps I should take this opportunity and let him know.

How about you? Do you do something special to celebrate Valentine's Day?

A Peaceful Interlude in Honor of a Good Man

Winter finally made it's way here today. The sky was heavy with snow-laden clouds which decided to divest themselves of their icy burden a few minutes ago. It's been snowing like the dickens ever since, and it's only because the weather people have promised that it will all end just after midnight that I'm able to remain sanguine about it. I know I should be grateful -we've had beautiful weather all winter long, with no measurable snow, lots of sunshine and mild temperatures - who could ask for more in Michigan?

But like most humans, I'm greedy. I wanted it to go on and on that way.

Especially since Thursday was the most beautiful of days I can ever recall for February. I drove out to the Irish Hills area of Michigan during the afternoon to pay my last respects to my uncle, my father's youngest brother, who died on Tuesday. Once you get off the expressway in Chelsea that area of Michigan is pure country, with winding roads and gentle hills. There was very little traffic, so I was free to meander the two-lane road at my own pace. My little red car was freshly washed, I had a good book to listen to, and I enjoyed the trip perhaps more than I should have given the nature of the errand.

But my uncle would have appreciated that sentiment. He lived in a small house on the lake there in the Irish Hills for decades. He loved puttering around in his garden, playing pinochle every night, spending time with his grandchildren, going out on the pontoon boat and cruising around the lake, .

He was a kind and gentle man, who knew how to make the most of life's simple pleasures.  And from the numbers of people gathering to say goodbye to him on Thursday, that was enough to make him very well loved indeed.

How about you? What simple pleasure in life do you most savor?

Flash Point

Hot flashes. Power surges.

Hormonally induced temperature fluctuations.

Whatever you call them, they're not pleasant. I've been suffering with them for almost 10 years now, although in the past six months they've diminished quite a bit.

At least my hot flashes are predictable. For instance, I always have one when I first wake up, no matter what time it is. I always have one just after a hot bath.  I always have one when starting to drink my second cup of coffee in the morning. And I usually get at least one during handbell rehearsals.  All seeming to prove the theory that hot water, caffeine, and stress promote them.

However, I do not get them from drinking wine, which is purportedly another common trigger.

Something to be grateful for.

I've tried several different "natural" remedies - black cohosh, soy products, St. John's Wort - but nothing seemed very effective. My doctor has offered to prescribe HRT (hormone replacement therapy), but I've never wanted to use it because there are too many side effects with any kind of synthetic hormones. Besides, you never know what the long term effects might be.

Here's the oddest thing. When I was helping take care of my grandson just after he was born in November, I stopped having them all together. For about four weeks, I didn't have one single hot flash. But within a week of returning home they returned on their same predictable schedule.

 I'm wondering if just being around a baby - smelling his heavenly baby aroma, touching his tiny baby hands and feet, feeling the silky softness of his cheek against mine - could have inspired my tired old body to produce just one more little surge of estrogen, enough to prevent those hot flashes from making an appearance.

If so, that's all the more reason to spend more time cuddling baby Connor.

I wonder if my doctor would prescribe that for me?

Don't Let A Dirty House Kill You

The other day a friend dropped by unexpectedly, and instead of being happy to see her, I started worrying about the state of my house. Dog blankets were spread over the chairs, the coffee table was dusty and piled high with papers, books, and electronic toys. I hadn't vacuumed in almost two weeks. I steered her to the sofa (the only clean place to sit) and whipped a blanket off the dog's favorite chair for me to sit in, breathing a sigh of relief that I had cleaned the bathroom the day before.

Isn't it silly to let housekeeping (or the lack of) spoil a visit with a friend?

Well, it's even sillier to let housekeeping concerns kill you.

That's right. In a recent study, only half of the women surveyed said they would call 911 if they were having heart attack symptoms. Why? Because they wouldn't want the paramedics to see their messy house.

Wow.

Unfortunately, I can almost relate to this irrationality. After all, I'm a member of  the generation who grew up with the "Wash on Monday, Iron on Tuesday..." routine and my mother was pretty religious about keeping her house spic and span at all times. In the 1950's and 1960's, a lot more entertaining was done at home than is now, and people were likely to pop over at any time for a cup of coffee. There was always something fresh baked in our house, just in case a friend stopped by. The wood surfaces always gleamed, the carpets were always vacuumed, and fresh towels were always at hand in the powder room.

Although I'm not even close to maintaining my mother's high standards for housekeeping, I'm not above wishing I were. I'd like to have at least one picture perfect room I could usher my guests into, should they happen to pay an unexpected call.

It could also come in handy should I have a heart attack and need to call the paramedics.

Heaven forbid they should find me lying in a puddle of dust.

*February is Heart Health month, and you may not be aware that heart disease is the Number One leading cause of death among women. Many women don't recognize the symptoms of a heart attack, as women's heart ailments don't always present themselves in the same way as men's. The Go Red For Women website is a great place to educate yourself about heart health and the symptoms of heart attack. Above all, if you have chest pain, cold sweats, dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath, fatigue, or upper body pain, call 911 immediately, no matter what condition your living room is in!

Tea Time

When my husband works at home, as he's been doing this week, he usually joins me in a cup of tea about 3:00 in the afternoon. I tease him that his English ancestry is calling, because he seems to look forward to that tea break with rather un-American enthusiasm. This isn't the first time in our relationship that Jim and I have enjoyed a regular tea time. When we were dating, we often ended our dates with a cup of tea and a plate of Keebler chocolate fudge cookies. At the age of 17, my culinary skills were nonexistent limited, but I could brew a mean pot of Tetley tea. I had even bought us an authentic English Brown Betty teapot to brew it in.

When we first got married, we switched over to after-dinner coffee. In the summer of 1976, Mr. Coffee's were brand new (amazing, right?) and it was so easy and fun to make coffee, that we'd brew up a pot each evening about 7:30 or 8:00 and sit down to watch TV.  In those days, Jim left for work at an ungodly early hour, and I usually didn't get up to drink coffee with him.

Like much of the rest of American, we've become addicted to the PBS series, Downton Abbey, and I always smile at the way the British invest tea with ever miraculous powers. A nice hot cuppa seems to cure everything from broken hearts to wartime injuries.

Although I don't know how powerful our afternoon tea breaks are, it's nice to stop working for a few moments and refresh yourself.

How about you? Do you and your partner count on any rituals to make the day more pleasant?