bring the noyz

Happy Valentine's Day?

Yeah, okay. Whatever.

While nowhere near the mythic Bad Craziness status of a Valentine's Day back around 1991 or so when the good Golatron and I celebrated our status as the "valentinles". . .

(imagine Ricardo Montalbon saying it, it sounds really cool: "val-en-TEEN-less")

. . . by knocking back a few bottles of Cisco, straight from the bag mothafucka, we was hardcore. . .

. . . and by doing more bong hits than the Surgeon General or the FDA recommended at that time as your daily dose of weed. . .

(I have this vague dreamlike memory of the Mighty Golatron standing up then falling down flatass backwards and me leaving somehow and ending up at a now decades gone "gentlemen's" establishment of some ill repute with I think Fang)

(although that could have been and probably was another one of a thousand nights)

. . . today has not been the most romantic and ideal of Valentine's Day.

I knew it wouldn't be. The Wife and I have made plans to postpone it a day and made arrangements for The Nurse to stay late tomorrow with The Boy so we can go out to a proper romantic dinner for two.

Well, okay not that proper. We'll be using a gift card for dinner at a franchise Italian eatery courtesy of my suburban parents as an anniversary gift.

And probably not that romantic. A strip mall is not exactly the canals of Venice.

But a free meal's a free meal. And for that I'm very grateful.

So tonight, The Wife and The Boy both fell asleep around 9:00. Actually, just The Wife fell asleep around 9:00. The Boy was awake but as content and blissed out as can be next to The Wife in my space on our bed. He was sound asleep by around 10:30. Thankfully he is very sound sleeper. In a bit I'll sneak him into his own bed.

(I wonder what he thinks in the morning when he wakes up in a diffent place from where he remembers falling asleep. I wonder if he feels at all like me on a typical weekend in college.)

So, while the rest of the family peacefully slumbers, I have been helping The Wife complete a scholarship application for nursing school. College ain't cheap and Lord knows school teachers get paid squat.

By "helping" of course I mean just flat out doing it. Hey, a grand's a grand. And it's not that she can't or won't, it's just that the poor girl doesn't sleep much anymore. That apparently happens with nursing school.

But as I finished the answering all the questions and completing the application and reading it all back I realized something.

It's kind of an institutional or government application style love letter, a listing of all of The Wife's wonderful qualities and the wonderful things she believes in and has done.

While the better half lies dreaming, I am left to write about all her intellectually and spiritually beautiful attributes on the application in order to convince total strangers to give her a cool $1K for school after reading not one, but two entire pages about her and her qualifications and educational goals.

Deadlines are deadlines.

So I sat down and typed out the answers to the questions on the damned forms.

And then I did three revisions of "toning it down" (damned jug of cheap-ass Chardonnay and it's judgement impairing passion inflating abilities).

To me, it still reads like a love letter.

'Cuz I love her.

So Happy Valentine's Day.
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