Valentine's Day In Our House

We don't celebrate in any special way today. We call Febrary 14th "the day after John's birthday." We don't exchange gifts -- he just got gifts yesterday, and it doesn't seem right to have him get me something. Plus, well...I don't actually care.

When we were living in LA, he was held up as a Paragon Among Men by his officemates, who believed (wrongly) that John had put his foot down and told me that we weren't going to celebrate some stupid commercial holiday.

I had all sorts of thoughts about why we don't celebrate, ranging from "We love each other every day" to "This idea of romanticized love...it doesn't work for me anymore, and probably never really did anyway." But, I just read the Yarn Harlot's assessment of the Valentine's situation here, and she pretty much sums up what I wanted to say nicely. Go over there. Read it. Here's a snippet to whet your appetite:

"My daughters will have their days, and they will be knocked down and dragged through the snake pit of crushing romantic first love and they will likely get hurt and learn something and sob because they think they can't live without the object of their affection. I know it. All I'm trying to do around here is to make sure that someday, when they gaze into their lovers eyes and the lacy and ruffled world of romantic love unfurls around them, that somewhere in the back of their heads, a little voice (it will probably be mine) says "Don't forget to have a bank account in your own name, cupcake." "

Go there.

Oh wait, you wanted something about knitting? Here you go. Franklin's 10 Alternative ways to say "I love you" to a knitter.