In honor of it being the weekend for all things red, pink, and lovie dovie, I thought I’d talk about for many, what Valentines Day symbolizes and why I enjoy reading and writing about it-Romance.
If you haven’t realized by now, today is Friday. It also happens to be the 13th. I’m not a superstitious person. It’s never bothered me that nearly every cat I’ve owned has been black, a broken mirror simply means you need to sweep, and today, well … it’s just another day on the calendar. Except I had one of those “Oh God” moments this morning. The kind where you think this may be the day it all comes to an end. Okay, so now I might be mildly making more of the situation than what it really was, but for a moment I did think “things are about to get real ugly around here.”
As I’m dropping my youngest off at school this morning, we’re going through the ritual: a hug, kiss, another hug, I love you, have a good day, see ya later buddy, and then I watch him until he walks through the door. Just as he’s cleared the stairs, I hear a tap, tap, tap on my window. I crane my neck to the side and see a man standing there holding a hatchet with an evil grin on his face. It took me a moment to register what was happening and then reality sunk in- I know this man. Oh God! I know this man! In case you’re wondering that wasn’t an excited “Oh God!” At this point, I’m stunned with stupor. I don’t know what I should do. I can’t gun it because there are kids crossing in front of me. I can’t back up, because I’m holding up a line of cars. All I can think about is that I’ve really pissed him off. You see, Hatchet Man is someone whom I come in contact with through my day job. He’s quite the colorful character and we don’t always see eye-to-eye. Okay, we rarely, if ever agree, but he’s not one I’ve ever considered dangerous. Not knowing what to do, I do nothing. I sit there looking at him like WTH? He nudges the hatchet toward me as if to say “see this?” I look back like “Yeah, I do.” And then vaguely I hear my oldest son say “Dad told me to put that up.” My head swivels to the right. My oldest son sits there quietly. “What?” I ask. “Dad told me to put it up last night and I forgot,” he says again. Things start becoming a little clearer, so I face Hatchet Man again. This time his evil grin doesn’t look so scary. He’s actually kind of smiling humorously. I roll my window down and he sort of thrusts the hatchet forward. “Hey, this was on the back of your car.” He laughs like it’s funny. I suppose it is now. But, at the time, I was still trying to make head or tails of it all. “Thanks,” I say, grabbing the hatchet and putting it in the back seat. He goes on his way, I roll up the window, and we pull forward. My oldest explains that one of them laid it on the car last night. They didn’t put it away like their dad asked, it apparently froze to the trunk and made the trip with us to school this morning. So, it turns out, Hatchet Man wasn’t out to chop my body into a hundred pieces. He was being nice-oops, my bad!
At this point, I would like to request that no one ask me what my children were doing with a hatchet. Honestly, I can’t think of one responsible answer to that question, so I’d likely plead the fifth. I would love to say, they were cleaning up a mess of their Dad’s and got sidetracked or that someone had borrowed it and they were being nice and had intentions of putting it back for them, but the truth would likely be that they were attempting something they saw on the show Ax Men. No, I’m not kidding. My driveway was once turned into a wash station so that they could mine gold like the men on Gold Rush.
So what does any of this have to do with why I read and write romance? Ahh, yes, that was the reason I was writing this wasn’t it? Unfortunately, my lunch hour is up, so you’ll have to find out on Part II tomorrow.
Until then, Happy Friday the 13th!