Too Happy To Write?

That was the title of an email my friend B sent me.

I read it, thought for a second and realized, "Kind of . . . "

But, the truth is that I just haven't had a whole hell of a lot to say these days.

Maybe it's February.

It's the shortest month of the year, but it seems so long to get through. What with the crummy weather and the promise of Spring right on the other side.

Plus, you know, fucking Valentine's Day is in February.

In year's past, Valentine's Day has never really been very special for me. J would always bring home flowers or something and we may have gone out to dinner somewhere, but there was never anything really special about the day.

It just felt like another date night only with flowers.

This year, I got a wild hair and some months ago asked S if he'd like to spend Valentine's Weekend in a cabin in the mountains. He sounded excited about it so that's what we did and it was awesome.

You don't need all of the details, but I will say that we went on some lovely hikes, there was a beautiful fire in our fireplace and everything felt right.

S took a walk to the park's general store at some point and when he came back he'd bought a blanket.

He held it up and said to me, "I know that we don't need it, but I thought that every time we used it, it would remind us of this weekend."

Ya'll, am I not supposed to fall in love with this man?

Other than that lovely weekend, February has dragged on like Britney Spears' career.

Also, I think February is a huge drag because my birthday is in March, and having to wait a whole month before I get presents again seems like a really long time.