Jerry has a professional meeting tonight. I'm out all day in San Francisco, having lunch with a friend and then a haircut. When to do Valentine's Day?
As far as Jerry's concerned, we can skip it, but he knows that isn't acceptable to me. I may be a cynical old crone, but I feel VD must be observed.
Negotiations ensue. Breakfast? And then a take-out dinner squeezed in between the end of my day and his meeting? That'll have to do.
 |
| A hasty breakfast |
Dinner--who knows?
There's been a hiatus in posting due to angst ("n. a feeling of anxiety"--this way understates it). Too much bad news lately and too many sad situations I can't do anything about.
I saw this on the side of truck yesterday:
Are you kidding, guy? Plenty! There's so much to lose beyond anything you can protect with an alarm system. (Guy got out of his truck and asked if he could help me when he saw me loitering; logbook probably reads, "investigated old bat hanging around truck with camera in supermarket parking lot.")
This past week, I gave into the chocolate bar I resisted the week before.
And then I bought another one for Jerry for Valentine's Day. If that isn't love, what is?
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