Valentine's Day

I have two boys. At the ages of eleven and one that's moments away from turning thirteen, it's getting harder and harder to impress them. Or maybe it's better to say, it's getting harder and harder to do things together they think are cool.

Take for instance baking, when they were little pulling out the sprinkles got them excited about spending time in the kitchen. Now, it's getting challenging to keep their attention when it comes to helping. So I asked them to hang out and help me make these chocolate chip bars. Big yawn. Then I told them, how about we make chocolate chip bars with chocolate hearts that bleed red blood right on top? Magically, I had their attention. Boys. Of course they would think a bleeding heart is the perfect Valentine's Day treat!

These little hearts are Junior Mints made especially for Valentine's Day. Their insides are either red or white. The colors are mixed in a package so you do not get all reds in one box. I explained to the boys I could only get maybe half of them to bleed. The white ones also bleed, you just can't see them when they do.

Valentine’s Day marks the anniversary of the day I turned left at a crossroads. I’d like to say I never looked back, but I look back all the time. On February 14th, 1995, I left New York for good, although of course I didn’t know at the time that I wouldn’t be back.

I was a mere 21 years old and had recently graduated from college. I had graduated, too, from my college boyfriend, who was, in short, a complex individual. Someday, I thought, maybe I will go out with someone who enjoys the company of other people and will go to parties with me.

In New York, I found a terrible job with a joke of a salary and a refreshingly normal boyfriend who liked to go to parties. One night we went to a charity ball and there was a silent auction. Up for sale was dinner for two at Provence in the West Village. 

Lately it’s been quiet in my place. I’m amazed by how only a week can feel like a lifetime after ending a half-year relationship with the person I was convinced I loved. The red pillow on the other side of my memory foam mattress hasn't been touched, the non-slam toilet seat in my bathroom is permanently up and the only article of clothing that remains folded in my apartment are the green pajama bottoms she borrowed last time she was here.

There is no longer a need for a mutually accepted group to be played on my record console; the more sultry romantic sounds of Elysian Fields, Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66, Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds soundtrack have been replaced with the more discordant melodies and raucous noises from Joy Division, Igor Stravinksy and Chet Baker. A new tone has prevailed underneath my spacious ceilings, not a tone of vivacious spirit or luminous activity, but one of concord and settled reconciliation. All these lofty words are used to cover up sorrow with a big cheeky grin because now I can expand my mind opposed to my heart. Oh, who am I kidding?

Our editor, Amy asked that I think of something about candy for this Valentine’s Day issue, so I racked my brain trying to come up with something to say about candy that I haven’t already said. It would be one thing if I found a new candy, but I haven’t.  Also, since my last story about the sweet, romantic thing my husband did when he presented me with a gorgeous piece of jewelry for my birthday, his romantic gestures have taken the form of making sure I didn’t come home to a messy house when I’ve been out of town. I gotta tell ya, that stuff goes a long way with me.

It did occur to me though, that my recent trip to San Francisco for Sketchfest would qualify for the spirit of Valentine’s Day. I fell in love with the city….again. Eugene Pack, the creator of Celebrity Biography: In Their Own Words and Dayle Rayfel invited me to join them in the show and they were my food adventure buddies. Dayle is a vegan and Eugene slowly revealed himself to be the kind of exercise fanatic that tells you a location is a” nice walk” when its 27 blocks away.