I like this Hallmark holiday.

I was planning to write a post that caught you up on all the things that have been going on since I last wrote a post (such as our trip to American Girl, my addiction to Cap'n Crunch's Peanut Butter Crunch (but only in the retro packaging), my smarty-pants sister's momentous passing of her NCLEX, my first overnight shift at Lamont, etc., etc., etc.), but instead I'll write about Valentine's Day.

I don't know if I ever really cared for Valentine's Day before I was married. I think Doug and I gave each other cards each year, or maybe he got me flowers and chocolate and I gave him something meaningful and touching, like socks, or new Fruit of the Looms, or something like that. But because we married so close to Valentine's Day, I feel like Valentine's Day is a great way to get in some early celebrating of us. It's a great lead-in to our anniversary-celebrating, and plus I like the excuse to give cards. I don't think we give enough cards anymore. Real cards. With real hand-written messages and stamps and stuff. We as a society. I could be generalizing, but I rarely get cards in my mailbox; just solicitations from charities or credit card companies. Hallmark must not be pleased.

But Doug and I try to do our part for Hallmark on Valentine's Day, this year included. We started our celebrating on Saturday night, when we went to Modern Apizza on our way back from visiting Doug's grandfather at Bridgeport Hospital. Look at this thing: It's a gift from the gods, really.

On Sunday, Doug and I spent our morning at the grocery store, where I was faced with this as soon as I walked into the store: I am proud to say that I resisted all of those mesmerizing treats, because I planned to stuff myself silly at dinner later that day. We had a Valentine's meal with my mother and aunt planned, who were up helping me quilt (more on that to come - such progress has been made!). That's my mother's borsh-casserole (really borscht, but on her recipe it's called borsch, and I keep that spelling consistent because it's not true borscht; it's definitely modified) that's in my bowl, and I made it myself! How festive it is, with its hot-pink hue (it's from the beets, not from anything I did wrong, at least this time).

This brings us to actual Valentine's Day, which was yesterday. Doug and I celebrated by giving our usual Valentine's treats - flowers, chocolate, and greeting cards - and skipping the gym to watch Watson go head-to-head with Jeopardy's two all-time greatest champions. I admit to finding this competition fascinating, but also a little scary. Watson, so far, is a tough competitor, and Ken and Brad have to put a little more effort in if they are going to do we humans proud. I am waiting for Doug to get home from band practice so that we can watch the second round of competition that happened earlier tonight. And tomorrow, on our anniversary, we will watch the final round, when we learn the winner of this tournament, and learn just where man stands up versus the machine. I tell you, I'm a little nervous about this. Watson is a smart cookie. If I weren't still under the control of a chocolate-induced coma, I might blog more about what this could mean for mankind, but instead I'll just go have more chocolate. I have to get rid of yesterday's candy before I can make room for tomorrow's.

Four blissful days...

Doug and I just had ourselves a wonderful, fantastic, totally peaceful and relaxing four day extended weekend. It was just about the best way to spend four days. There was nothing that we had to do. Not one thing. Not one chore needed to get done, not one errand had to be run, not one state line had to be crossed, not one obligation. It was complete and total relaxation, and just about one of the most enjoyable mini-vacations I've had in the past four years.

It started with getting Wyatt groomed. You've seen his haircut already, but I can't help but post more photos of the little alien baby. Doug did a lot of cuddling with the hairless one,and we both did a lot of "observing" him, meaning just staring at him in his Snuggie and giggling about how silly he looked. And then taking pictures of him.

Of course, we also spent a lot of time eating. As it was Valentine's Day this weekend, I thought I'd give Doug a nice homemade meal. I made a meal of vegetable pie and roasted potatoes, and Doug surprised me with flowers and a cake. Flowers! A cake! Excellent.

In between going to the gym, eating, watching the Olympics, petting the cats, and sleeping, we took a road trip to Northampton, bought some more books, relaxed with some hot chocolate, and ate Indian food. Indian food! Almost as excellent as flowers and cake, because we never get Indian food. Doug was particularly excited about Indian food; can't you tell? I can tell. His eyes have that "I just ate way too much naan and now you're going to make me eat all of your aloo gobi, aren't you" look. I know that look well.

Ah, relaxation. Food comas. How nice. We finished the extended weekend at Isabella, Dedham's mighty fine offering to the local dining scene, to celebrate our anniversary. Yes, that's right. Yesterday Doug and I celebrated year two of married life. And it was a great way to celebrate. Four days of inspiring television, a road trip, the gym, the cats, eating great good, and flopping on the couch together... I mean, it was really, really great. Nothing over the top, nothing extravagant, just this: Cards with heartfelt messages, another cake (cake!), two forks, and a night on the couch surrounded by cats and snowboardcross on TV. Really, it was great. Have I said that yet? I couldn't have celebrated Valentine's Day and our anniversary in a better way, and I have my wonderful husband to thank for allowing us to have such a great four days doing nothing but whatever we felt like doing at the time. Can't wait to do this again next year! We are definitely making this an annual event.

Fireplace Feast.

In celebration of making it through one month of my new job, Doug's vacation, Valentine's Day, and our one-year anniversary, Doug and I at the last minute decided to trek down to the Salem Cross Inn's Fireplace Feast this weekend. I had been several times with my extended family as a kid and so to do this again was a treat. Nothing has changed about it, either. The first part of the evening consists of a horse-drawn wagon ride around the grounds of the inn, appetizers, hot cider/mulled wine, relaxing in the basement of an old barn while watching your prime rib turn on some kind of colonial roasting device, roasting yourself in front of a roaring fire, and participating in the making of the fish chowder. Once all these things are done, everyone goes upstairs to the top level of the barn to sit around and eat. And I mean eat. There is no end in sight to the food that is served to you, and it's all so tasty that you have no choice but to eat it. This meal is the reason why I had to sleep sitting up - if I lay down my whole meal felt like it was going to come back up from whence it came. Doug and I enjoyed ourselves and certainly enjoyed the food; we just wished we didn't have to drive so far to get back to our house after the dinner. Neither of us could walk, let alone feel alert enough to drive a car for over an hour, so it is a miracle that we are back in one piece. We definitely were in a bit of a food coma after the cheese & crackers, mulled cider, fish chowder (two bowls for Doug!), homemade breads, two giant slabs of prime rib, spinach pie, butternut squash, roasted potatoes, and a heaping helping of homemade apple pie. Just writing about the food makes me ill again. As a matter of fact, I am still not totally recovered from the dinner. I may never again get my appetite back. But it was worth it! Here are some photos of the evening:

I was still in the midst of a food coma the next morning, so I decided to plunk myself down in the beautifully warm sun that shines through our dining room windows. The cats love these sun spots, and since I am convinced - and so is Doug - that I am part cat (the slightly aloof kind, the kind that for the most part keeps to herself until she can't take it anymore and has to attack you for some attention), I decided to see what it was all about. I have to say, the cats are on to something. Lying on the floor with my back perfectly straight so that I could feel each and every vertebrae restoring itself to its natural position was heavenly, and add to that the warm sun... please god, in my next life let me come back as a spoiled little house cat! Of course, one of our own spoiled little house cats didn't take too well to me hogging all of her sun, so she decided to take matters into her own hands: But how can I get mad at this face?

So today is our actual anniversary. Doug and I have been married for one year, and I won't get into all the crazy things that have happened since we got engaged a year and a half ago. Our lives have been running on warp speed since then. It is my supreme wish that things slow down a little this year, but I think that I am just wishing for something that may never happen. When I was a kid I never wanted to be anything but grown up, whatever that meant. I never wanted to be a ballerina, an actress, a singer, a teacher, a nurse, a doctor, a lawyer, a pharmacist, a writer, a director, a hairdresser, a model... nothing. I just wanted to skip childhood and move right into adulthood so that I wouldn't have to bother with the aches and pains of figuring life out. I was such a naive child! Now that I am that "grown up" I wish that I could go back to being a kid. Life moves fast for a kid, very fast, but without all the strings that adulthood attaches. Of course, if I were to go back to being a kid I'd have to relive middle school (the horror), high school, college, the dating game, graduate school, etc. I probably wouldn't have the three little kitties that I have now, or the husband I have now (who has decided to celebrate our anniversary by organizing two Craigslist deals, one that involves a woman named Jean coming to our house to purchase something for $35, and the other that involves us driving to the South Shore Plaza to make a trade in the parking lot like some kind of suburban drug dealers), or the friends that I have now. So I guess I really wouldn't like to go back to being a kid. Maybe what I hope for is just a little perspective - and a little time for reflection now and again.

But, before you come away from this post thinking that I don't love or appreciate my husband, take a look at the flowers I got for Valentine's Day/our anniversary:
Aren't they beautiful? For him I'll spend my afternoon sitting in the parking lot at the mall.