Early on the morn of Valentine's Day, Señor Marine woke me up accidentally. Imagine if you will the scene: me half awake, with my hair springing free of its braid into its usual glorious Jewfro; my scratchy, dry Satan-esque voice rasping as I asked, "Will you be my Valentine?" Cheesy, yes. But it was three hours before I had to get up and I was half asleep. Just go with it. Señor Marine looked at me in all my glory for a few minutes, then shrugged and said, "Okay." Awww, the magic of love.
This has been my first Valentine's Day with someone. We don't count last Valentine's Day, since we were just starting to date and didn't do anything besides accidentally go on a date, then realize what day it was and feel awkward. Most of my Valentine's Days have consisted of sitting with other single girls, eating ice cream and watching the most horrible chick flicks we can find. Last year, it was P.S. I Love You.
This year, Señor Marine came to pick me up at work with three bouquets of flowers in the front seat. Apparently one wouldn't do the trick today. They were gorgeous, and he even remembered that I had said eons ago how lilies are my favorites. The only problem with this plethora of flora is I have one vase at home. The one vase that I bought last year and then whined to Señor Marine about how I had nothing to put in it (ahem, hint hint! In case you're wondering...no, he didn't get the hint. He told me to go buy some flowers then. It wasn't until I flat out told him it's a waste of money and cheesy, but I want some damn flowers that he said okay, but not until there was a reason to do so. So that ended with him buying me some on a really bad day. And yes. I cried like a little girl). So, quick shopping trip to the store before they closed, and voila! Enough vases for the house.
I know Señor Marine had another homemade surprise coming for our date night this weekend, but I have no idea what it is. I came home today to the smell of something burning and him yelling, "Close your eyes! Don't look!" Then I go into the kitchen to figure out dinner and he tells me to get away from the oven because pieces of my present are inside. Um....I'm perplexed. I'll keep you posted on what burnt present it could possibly be.
On that note, I need to go pick up some dinner since I'm not allowed into the kitchen.
--Bee--
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