Good morning! Gluten-free orange scented Irish soda bread. |
Mid January confession (now that we're half way to February and red hearts are sprouting up around chocolate displays in our local market). Valentine's Day looms. And yes, I use the word looms. Rather than a more enthusiastic awaits. Or glimmers. As in, I haven't been that into Valentine's Day lately. Not that I have anything against love. Or chocolate. Or roses. That would make me rather icy. A stone cold cynic. The prickly sort who kicks away puppies. Or grimaces at kittens and babies. Don't worry.
I don't indulge in any such blasphemy.
I still believe in love.
And though I may be, shall we say, a tad older than the estrogen-fueled ovulating audience targeted for Valentine's Day, I am not cantankerous. Nor am I without sympathy.
It's just that I find the accoutrements to our consumerist version of love rather ridiculous. All that red lace. Glitter lipsticks. And goddess forbid.
Thongs.
Never buy a piece of clothing that requires you to shave.
Everything.
I personally prefer a little mystery in my romance. Leaving something to the imagination. But then, I am a child of the long-haired free love sixties. Pre-porn aesthetic. We didn't fear body hair.
Last year we stayed home and ate baked mac and cheese for our dinner 'o love. And settled in with a Mad Men DVD. No red silk in sight. No high heels. Not exactly glamorous. But then, you know us artists. We have paint under our fingernails. We have more books than lipsticks. We are curling iron challenged.
I've never been into the whole glossy, magazine style glamor. I am more into comfort (and warmth- after all, it is winter!). I'm not a party girl. I'd rather be home. In my flannel PJ's.
Baking a soda bread.
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