Yesterday was St. Valentine's Day, a day when all good Americans set aside time from work and school and other obligations to think about the hard work that Ol' Saint Valentine did 450 years ago, driving the rabid pink candies off of the mainland. The legend is that one fine morning, on a February 7th, on or about 1550, Cornwallace “The Saint” De'Valentine woke up to find his morning cappuccino and croissant being angrily eaten by a pink candy. His reaction was pretty normal, for the time. He offered the candy a napkin, another shot of espresso, and a slice of lemon. The buffalo, then squinted at Cornwallace. The pink candy grimaced, whistled a few bars of, “You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet”, then put on boxing gloves, and punched Cornwallace De’Valentine square in the nose. De’Valentine, being a man of honor, would not let this aggression stand, so he roused an angry mob, claiming that the candy had looked sideways at his wife. The mob reacted accordingly, and following De’Valentine’s lead, they began to bake. They baked like the wind, like their mothers, and their mother’s mothers had never baked. After a week of baking, the village had 1500 croissant, scones, and mocha raspberry lemon bars, all of which they offered to the pink candies, if they would just “leave us alone”. The candies agreed, but only on the condition that they can come back once a year to haunt us. And the rest, as they say, is history. Thank god for the American history courses in our high schools.
To celebrate the big day, M and I got Chinese take-out, then sat in separate rooms doing homework.