The Gonzo Wolf

My wife and I aren’t the kind of people who go all out on each other for a holiday. Instead, we throw down big here and there whenever the want arises. Valentines Day weekend was just like any other in our house, with just a bit more of a theme.

I grabbed her a couple of small gifts from her favorite neighborhood store for the purposes of ceremony – one from me; one from my son – some flowers, and cozied up on the couch for our very first screening of Shakespeare In Love. I like anything with Geoffrey Rush, so I found it enjoyable. I’d avoided it all these years because I was 100% dude when it released in 1997-ish (I really don’t feel like looking it up). I left for the Army that year. I gave two poops and a poke about Shakespeare.

Moulin Rouge did it better, and they didn’t need to milk a historical figure to make it happen…but I digress.

She, as a gift to me, whipped up some amazing food. Saturday night was pan-seared sirloins (hand picked by the butcher because I had on an Epiphone t-shirt), stir-fried brussels sprouts with a sweet/spicy glaze, and some bomb homemade mash from this potato ricer thingy I got her a couple of weeks ago.

Being married to a hobbyist chef is pretty nice.

Sunday was recovery, but she managed to slip in a pork, carrot, and broccoli stir fry with a toned down version of the brussels sprouts glaze. If she insists on making it, and I insist on eating it, then I’ve got to blow the dust off my bicycle. She can knock any restaurant’s dick in the dirt with a little bit of prep and study.

It’s a lot like the military’s style: they teach you how to properly read a technical manual, and a soldier can accomplish almost anything. She’ll tweak something for months until she’s satisfied with the concoction. It’s cute. She’s even gotten a couple of aprons. Makes her look like the Swiss Miss chick. I love it.

There’s definite loss whenever she’s not home, and the further away, the more noticeable. We’re a couple of months from our seven-year anniversary, and nothing’s really changed since we decided to begin dating. I’ve straightened up a bit, and fine-tuned a few things here and there, but she’s been constant the whole time. She is who she is, and never pretends to be anything she’s not. I believe her to be incapable of doing so.

Instead of a famous writer, musician, or lover, I strive everyday to be more like her.

That’s how my VD weekend went. I won’t tell you about all the naughty breaks we took.

How was yours? Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. I’m breathing.