February 14th has often been a day of romantic gifts for me -- roses, candy, shiny objects, fancy meals, certificates to hardware stores, the gamut. In my six or so decades, I've stepped in love a few times, as Rita Rudner would say.
But not this February 14th. Oh sure, I received an absolutely perfect, white, long-stemmed rose, surrounded by baby's breath and ferns.
From my dentist.
But nothing that needed to be insured. Regardless, the rose was as lovely and fragrant as any really expensive hotel air freshener. And I only had to endure two hours in the dental chair to get it.
Hoping to enjoy its scent all day, I was tempted to wear the pretty fleur in my hair, until I discovered it didn't fit under my polar fleece hat. So I stuck it into the change drawer by the heater controls of my car. At least all the folks at the drive-bys would know that SOMEONE remembered me today. No need to tell them WHO.
With no requests to dress up, do my hair or shave, I remembered I hadn't seen There Will Be Blood, so I decided today would be an appropriate time to pencil it onto my empty dance card. It was that or rent War of the Roses.
Sitting alone in the back row of the local movie theater with my $4 beverage, I was greeted by a couple who literally bounded through the door, saw me, and chirped like a couple of school kids, "Hey, happy Valentine's Day!"
I responded with, "My dentist gave me a rose!"
Afterward, we all agreed that the picture sucked, but Daniel Day-Lewis was incredible. Good thing, since he's on screen the whole time. Like No Country For Old Men, the main character of Blood was continually killing people without much provocation. That pretty much sums up the plot of the movie. Both movies.
I didn't like the film, but I didn't mind the money I spent, since if you're over 62 you get a two dollar discount. Kind of like going to the movies back when there was one HUGE screen, not seven teeny weeny ones.
Some old fart -- probably my age -- was working the concession stand and kept up the most annoying and non-stop snappy patter to entertain me, while he screwed up my drink order. He was slightly deaf and I had to repeat myself three times before he got it right.
After the show I swung by Boston Market for some soup and a salad for dinner. Ta go. The counter guy clearly felt sorryfor me and tucked an extra one of those cornbread muffins into my bag. The ones they won't take back no matter how much you complain.
I put it in the change drawer next to my one, excellent rose.