Preparing for That Special Night.

I am not a fan of Valentine’s Day.

I adore my husband, have plenty of romantic feelings toward him, and love to celebrate anything with a date or weekend away whenever we get the chance. But I would prefer to not fight the entire world for a table on those occasions. And Valentine’s just feels so contrived…I don’t want to feel the pressure that I MUST be able to post a picture of my beautiful bouquet on Facebook on the 14th day of February every year or have people message me to inquire worriedly about the state of my marriage.

I’m a rebel. What can I say.

But when we received this in the mail…well…it just changed how I felt about the holiday.

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Such original words – I would absolutely cherish them forever! So well-written and from the heart! And even better that the last letter of my husband’s name couldn’t fit – Christophe sounds like my exotic French husband – or an Ice Peddler from the north mountains who never takes baths and learns about love from trolls.

But they did not fail to sell their unbelievably exquisite jewelry. The ultimate gift. It doesn’t get any better than this, guys. Your wife told you she wanted a weekend away from the kids, or perhaps just a thorough vacuuming out of her car? Nah – she’d rather have The Perfect Sentiment closest to her heart.

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I sure hope Christophe takes the hint.

I wanted to be prepared if he did buy me the perfect gift, so I did some intensive shopping to find him just as special of a gift.

And I did just that.

On Etsy.

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I MEAN. Can you imagine how awesome we would look on our Valentine’s Date, me with my Christophe necklace and him in his $150 gunmetal leggings? Oh. My. Gosh.

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If Birmingham had gossip pages, Christophe and I would most definitely make them.

The Best Worst Comments: Volume III.

Volumes I and II can be found here and here.

I adore my regular readers and their lovely and encouraging comments – I seriously cherish with all my heart. But the random Googlers that find my blog and leave bizarre and angry comments also have a special place in my heart. As such, the time has come again look at the best worst comments I’ve gotten in the past year and a half. Because I love people. And they love me. Or something like that.

The Dilemna/Dilemma post received the largest amount of fascinating new comments. This is the post that I discussed the bizarre situation that many of us find ourselves in – completely convinced that dilemna is the way to spell dilemma, and upon trying to find out how I could have been so deceived, I discovered that one of the theories is that there’s a whole group of us that somehow crossed over from an alternate dilemna-spelling universe.

Tony was by far my favorite commenter on this subject. I may or may not have dramatically read his comment aloud well over a dozen times.

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Who knew Satan cared so much about the dilemma of alternate spellings? I certainly did not. Nor have I ever attempted to prove my faith in Jesus Christ based off of spelling anomalies, so clearly I’m gravely shallow.

And then there was poor Naima. Or more likely, her possibly former husband.

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Another post I wrote, a very tongue-in-cheek (and, I thought humorous but apparently not to all) look at the reasons why I homeschool, brought out a jewel of a human being – you know, the friend we all need – the type that tells us clearly and plainly how very wrong we are.

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My poor warped children, living such a boring, unadventurous, anti-social life…how WILL they ever forgive me? AND WHY HAVEN’T YOU GUYS POINTED OUT THIS BLIND SPOT TO ME BEFORE?!

An early post I wrote that was a personal favorite received a five-year-late response. The post was about Kiosk Warfare and the in-depth strategy one must take to avoid getting spritzed, curled, or otherwise attacked by mall kiosk workers. I wrote the post in 2010, but Carmela the angry kiosk-worker found it in 2015.

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She is so, SO correct. I would definitely not last a day.

Speaking of late reactions, a mere nine months after I started blogging in 2008, I wrote a piece about how much I despise honking my horn. Jeff found this post just last month, and had some wisdom he felt needed adding.

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And here I thought hitting my key fob twice armed my alarm system. Thanks, Jeff, for letting me know that I’m really just a narcissist who is obsessed with the fact that I have a standard automobile feature.

In January of last year, I wrote the latest installment of my sleepwalking injuries (thankfully the least injurious of the entire collection.) Six months later, Kathleen felt that she had some very pertinent information to share:

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Put that email address on speed-dial, y’all. You never know when you may need it.

(And if her husband is living with the other woman now, how is he also happily living back at home? I love it when the present situation changes halfway through writing a comment.)

Of course, a year couldn’t go by without having some serious feedback on my ever-viral (despite being sorely outdated) denim posts.

The most popular of the series, written in 2012, is specifically about Gap and Old Navy jeans being Mom Jeans. Am I aware that Gap has dramatically updated their jeans since 2012? Of course. Have I felt like writing another 20+ hour research post about it? Not yet. Does that mean I should take down a post just because it’s outdated? That’s not how the internet works. Unless you ask Jessica…

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Because clearly I OWE it to the internet to spend another month of my life redoing this post. How dare I not update it.

BN agrees.

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It’s my favorite when people find a dated post and complain that it’s dated. DARN THAT PASSAGE OF TIME!!!!

Mary Ann had a broader view on the problem of denim…

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Well there you go, ladies. Jeans were made for a man. That’s all there is to it.

And finally, my proper cursing post brought out a couple of fantastic comments. My friend Kristina totally got trolled by the somewhat bizarrely named “SauceEatn”. Normally I don’t allow trolls to troll other people on my blog, but I knew Kristina could take it, and for the life of us, no matter how many times we read the comment, we couldn’t quite figure out what Mr. (Ms.?) Eatn was trying to tell us…

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So is it a mild euphemism, barely a euphemism, a horrible euphemism, or what exactly? Maybe one of you can diagram his/her sentences and solve the mystery for us.

And as a last jewel to offer you, this comment was on the same cursing post, and from my friend Christen. It’s not a Best Worst Comment – it’s just a Best Best Comment – perhaps the best comment I received in all of 2015. Unfortunately, emojis don’t come over when you leave a comment, but just know that anywhere there’s an unexplained blank space, Christen had inserted a Smiling Pile of Poo:

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There’s nothing quite like a Granddad’s sweet nothings to boost your self-esteem.

Re-gifting The Squirrel.

Yes – we’re back around to this. AGAIN. It’s the dead squirrel that just won’t die.

It’s just that Sloppy The Squirrel was just too good of a friend to let go.

And, although I did not buy my dear friend Tanya the note cards or canvas that I considered, I did create her a present from Sloppy.

I chose this particular reincarnation of our furry friend because I know Tanya. And I know that there is nothing that could better start off her days than drinking coffee out of a dead squirrel.

So I designed her a fully-involved coffee mug, with the image wrapped around for a full three-dimensional experience.

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I was given the choice as to what color I wanted the handle and the inside of the mug, and although “Blood Red” was a tempting choice, I went with a calmer “Sunflower Blue”, paying homage to how very much Sloppy would enjoy cracking open one last sunflower seed.

But then. When I completed my order and went back in to check it one last time, I was horrified.

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According to the order specifications, THEY HAD CHOPPED POOR SLOPPY’S HEAD OFF.

This was not okay.

Not okay at all.

Had I missed this when I was approving the design? Had I ordered a faulty mug? Or had his head gotten unfairly treated in the passage of bytes from my computer to Vistaprint headquarters??

So naturally, I opted for chat support, because I needed this addressed immediately. Garcia was a lucky man to get to check into my very special problem.

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I was much happier knowing that Sloppy was still fully in tact. So all there was to do was wait for it to arrive, with no pre-warning, to Tanya’s house.

One very meaningful day, I got this barrage of texts.

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It took me until the fourth text to realize what she was OMGing. But that fourth question – if I wasn’t afraid of ruining the moment, I would have said, “Do you THINK I ordered a dead squirrel mug for someone else and accidentally sent it to you? Because I think the chances of that happening are less than zero.”

But I let her simply bask in her excitement over her life goals being met.

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After she calmed down enough to decrease her number of exclamation points, I asked after the cognitive health of poor Sloppy.

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Relief and bliss washed over me.

I expect this coffee cup to come up on every gift ideas listicle for 2016.