Valentine's Day 2010

Earlier this week, Adair and I had a conversation about Valentine's Day. This conversation abruptly ended when Adair said, "Oh. Do we still do that?"

Ummmm. Yah. Seriously.

I sent him forwards of email deals to Niagara-on-the-Lake, theatre tickets, links to jewelry, and even droned on about how I need an Egyptian-style bellydance costume.

I don't think he understood my not-so-mild pushing for a decent Valentine's gift. I don't think I even got anything last year.

It was hard to listen to my work colleagues discuss their Valentine's Day plans. One of my male colleagues is having 5 dozen roses delivered to his wife's work, then they're driving back to where they met at law school, and reliving their 1st Valentine's Day together. Same restaurant and same movie theatre. So romantic.

So I got him a card. Nothing else. I didn't want to set a bad example.

But Adair came through, the best he could without any help. He got me a card, chocolates and pretty flowers.

I am admittedly hard to buy for. I usually buy myself whatever I want, whenever I want it.

Maybe next year, diamond studs or a little necklace from Tiffany? Or maybe next year, I'll take the lead and show my husband how Valentine's Day can be done. Around Valentine's Day 2003 is the day we started dating, so it's kind of an anniversary for us.

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Anyway, here's a list of 14 things that I love:

1. My son - my bf - EZ
2. My husband, family, and my dog Gingy
3. Fresh food - especially when I make it!
4. Red velvet cupcakes
5. Running in the early morning
6. Arabic music and bellydancing - oh and hummus! I heart the Middle East!
   
7. Etsy
   
8. Fresh Magazines
9. IKEA
10. Design blogs
11. My iPhone
12. Trashy, guilty pleasure TV shows {Survivor, Real Housewives, etc}
13. The Tour de France.
14. Travelling. Anywhere. Anytime.

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The Chair

In the beginning of September 2005, I embarked on my articles. I went from a summer of semi-carefree fun with my only job to write a series of Bar exams , to working 110 hrs/week. I never left the office before 11pm, at the earliest.

I was also deep in the throes of training for my first marathon at the end of September.

I was busy, tired and aching that first week. My only hope was for Friday. Friday was the only day of the week that we could leave the office at 5pm - on the dot.

One afternoon that first week, I asked Adair to go to the nice salon at the end of our street, which was in a fairly trendy area of town. I asked him to go into the salon, check it out and if it was decent, book me a Friday appointment for a relaxing, pampering pedicure. But only if they had "The Chair." You know, the nice, comfy, back-massaging, reclining, vibrating chairs?

He called me later that night to confirm that he had indeed been to the salon and thought it was nice, and booked my pedicure appointment. I asked him, "Do they have a chair?" He assured me that they had a chair. What a sweet, loving husband I have!

So all week, despite crippling exhaustion from work and marathon-training, I was looking forward to my wonderful pedicure. I really built up my anticipation since it appeared to be the only moment of relaxation and rejuvenation of that week. I raced home right at 5pm to get to my pedi appointment.

I walked into the salon. It sure seemed nice. I was warmly greeted, and I was asked to follow the esthetician. I followed her through the nice salon, then was lead downstairs. Hmmm...that's kinda weird. As we descended the staircase into the basement of the salon, there appeared to be a marked difference in the decoration.

The basement was an old, dingy, undecorated, cluttered with old unused equipment. Clearly not like the salon upstairs. Then I saw it. The chair. Nope, not a fancy pedicure spa chair.

The chair I saw was a grimy plastic lawn chair - with a bucket next to it. Ya know, for the soapy water for my tootsies?!

Apparently THIS was where my pedicure was going to take place. I almost died. Seriously.

I had two options. One - throw a fit and leave, and no pedicure. Or two - suck it up, get pedicure, and get to torture Adair for the rest of his life. Option two it was!

So there I sat getting my pedicure in the dank basement, after my long and hard workweek, trying to imagine the conversation Adair had with the receptionist who booked my pedicure.

Adair: "My wife wants to book a pedicure, but she wants to be sure you have a chair."

Salon lady: "Yes sir, we have a chair" {Thinking...OMG - of course there's a chair! What are we gonna do? Do a pedicure while she's standing or doing cartwheels? Yeesh, what a dumb question}.

I guess the moral of this story is the infinite difference between "a chair" and "the chair." Oh, and don't ask your husband to book your salon appointments. EVER.

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