First Texas Heart Day

This was a week of firsts for us. We celebrated our first Heart Day in Texas and when your husband's working until 11:00 at night on Valentine's day, you've got two choices: forgo the celebrations or get clever. I was the child who begged my mom to buy trinkets and lights and doilies and streamers to decorate for every holiday, so I didn't give one half of a second thought to the "forgo the celebrations" option.

The most clever scheme I could conjure, knowing that my husband would come home with just enough energy to hold his eyelids open while brushing his teeth and then collapse into bed, was to make a V-Day visit to his office. Enveloped in the sweet aroma of fried food, surrounded by the amorous hum of corporate jabber, savoring a sumptuous lunch of Zatarain's Red Beans & Rice and chips and salsa--we celebrated romance and love. But do you know, if we'd have been at the finest Italian restaurant in Venice, serenaded by Pavarotti himself, I don't think I could have felt any more adoration for the loves in my life as I did eating homemade beans in the Nortel cafeteria. After lunch, Henry and I worked our way into the hearts of Nate's coworkers with a batch of Funfetti cupcakes. We left with empty cupcake pans and two heaping styrofoam cups full of sweets from Henry's fan club. He could have asked for the moon and between Maliha and Katherine (two of Nate's coworkers,) I'm sure they would have figured out a way to get it for him. We spent the day at home on Thursday in a trembling state of sugar detox.

By Friday night we were ready for more fun with Nate's chums. We rang in the Chinese New Year at an Oriental romp hosted by the Asian Business Resource Group. After the New Year festivities, I am pleased to inform you all that I am no longer a duck virgin. I had my first exposure to the fried fowl as an appetizer on Friday night and wish I could report a liking for it, but I found it to be quite rubbery and unpleasantly slippery and don't care to eat it again.

I also had my first experience with losing a toenail this weekend. Surprisingly, it was not the one that Henry dropped the candle on (though I anticipate losing that one as well,) it was the baby toenail on my left foot. I stubbed it on the wheel of a grocery cart several weeks ago and it just lifted off my toe Saturday afternoon. I was morbidly fascinated by the whole process and am kind of looking forward to losing my big toenail--mostly just so the unsightly black bruise will disappear and I can wear sandals again without feeling like a gargoyle.

I've saved the finest first for last...I bought my first pair of cowgirl boots on Saturday, at a thrift store for $7.00. I am an aspiring dumpster diva. Yesterday I bought twelve second hand items for $30! Among the spoils were two brand new shirts (never worn, price tags still on, both of reputable brand names) for $2.99! The buzz of a bargain is an unbeatable high! I love living in a city with a healthy contingent of wealthy people who donate their brand name threads after only a bit of light use.

Well, I seem to be writing on the fumes of my wit, so I'm going to let some pictures do the rest of the talking. Love 'til next week...

(I know this seems really obvious, but from a few comments that I've received from some of my less web-savvy friends, I think there is a need for me to explain that if you click on the red links below a picture will come up.)

Henry and Nate eating golfballs.

New (to me) Boots

Henry and his other appendages

Building with Blocks

Devouring a Slice of Henry Pie