Hello my Bookworms,
Today is Valentine’s Day. We’ve never been big on the hearts and cupids hoopla, but we celebrate in our own way. I’ve written a sonnet (Shakespeare, I am all kinds of sorry for using your rhyme scheme for such a piece of nonsense.) I dedicate this poem to my husband, Jim. He’s been putting up with my antics for nearly 10 years, so he deserves some (terrible) poetry.
Valentine’s Day Makes McFools of Us All.
The first Valentine’s we did celebrate…
It was not quite what we had intended.
‘Twas the first year we’d each had a date!
We’d expected a dinner, so splendid.
So out on the town we endeavored,
Too naive to have a reservation.
Oh, the wait times they could not be measured!
Waitstaff laughed at our sad situation.
Turned away by the finest of venues,
And exhausted by our fruitless pursuit,
We gave up, and thus sought out a drive-thru:
Inexpensive, and convenient to boot!
Many years from our failed expedition,
McDonald’s is our own sweet tradition.
That story is 100% true, even if the iambic pentameter doesn’t completely work. We seriously drove around for hours getting laughed out of restaurants. Young, silly couples who are awkward at dating don’t understand the importance of reservations on Valentine’s Day. We got annoyed, got McDonald’s, and ate it on the floor of my bedroom. (Oh, this isn’t our ONLY holiday story involving fast food. If you ask REALLY nicely, someday I’ll tell you about New Year’s Eve at Long John Silver’s…) Happy Valentine’s Day, Jim! I look forward to spending the evening with you, the television, and Mickey D’s.
So, Bookworms… Will, um, all of you be my Valentine? (Jim promises he’s cool with it. I told him T-Swift could be his this year.)