I'm obviously romantically challenged. It's almost Valentine's Day and I haven't bought a card for Gorgeous George or spent loving hours making heart-shaped cookies. Nor am I expecting a lovely bunch of red roses flown over from Israel or South Africa or wherever because the weather in Australia has been so challenging that the roses grown here this season all have short, stumpy stems. Seems even roses are subject to our obsession with being tall and slender - not good news for those grown along more solid, ground-hugging lines.
Every year my sister gets a bunch of yellow roses from her beloved hubby, even though he could be sometimes charitably be described as a little on the grumpy side and they have been married for 30 years. But Gorgeous George has always manfully resisted the pressure to give in to the "arrant consumerism" of the day and just gets on with business as usual. He uses the same inescapable logic to explain why we have also never celebrated Mother's Day. Sadly I totally understand. If we had a spare $30 I'd much rather spend it on making a nice lunch for the Babe and the Geek or buying a bottle of champagne to drink on a sunny afternoon in the garden I spend so much time slaving over.
So instead of buying more stuff, I'll celebrate valentine's Day by weeding the vegie patch, using up the black bananas in the freezer to make a cake and trying to discourage the cats from using Gorgeous George's favourite chair as a scratching post. The $30 Gorgeous could have spent on roses will go towards buying me a lawn mower. That's real romance.
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