The Ghost of Valentine's Past

I was writing Nathan a little letter-o-love this afternoon, and found myself reflecting on past Valentine's we have shared. So I wrote him up a couple of little poems. I'll share two with you, with explanations so you get it. Valentines's Day, 2003. It was three weeks before our wedding. We were on a fairly limited budget to pay for said wedding. I threw caution to the wind, mostly, by making reservations at Vic Stewart's Steak House in Walnut Creek. Had Ruth's Chris been in Walnut Creek at the time, you bet your sweet bippy we would've been there, instead. I say I mostly threw caution to the wind because I made our reservations for February 13th instead of February 14th, thereby insuring that we would miss, by one day, the "Special Valentine's Menu" with Special Valentines Prices. It remains, to this day, the most expensive meal we've ever eaten. And we don't regret it one bit. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways Almost as much as we paid for Valentines dinner ‘03. Wait. I love you more than that. Fast forward twelve months. Now we were married and living in our painfully small apartment in one of the most fantastic towns in America, and loving every minute of being there (in the town, NOT the apartment). I had been thinking for about a month of what we could do to make the first married Valentine's Day special. I can not remember what my ideas were, only that it didn't matter. We got Sick. We were So Sick. We were So Miserably Sick for the three or four days leading up to Valentine's day, that on February 14th, we found ourselves starting to heal, but our cupboards and fridge free of anything edible. So we left the house for the first time in three or four days and drove the long 1/3 mile to Safeway. We bought eggs and juice and cinnamon rolls. We brought them home and cooked them and ate them on our wedding china. I don't think we ate much. But at least I have a picture. Unfortunately, the picture I have of us from that day got warped and looks like this. Any wise lurker out there know how to fix it? If it's fixable? Roses are red Violets are blue I’m glad we’re not puking this year (2004) The last poem I will not share here, to protect the dear innocent spirit of that husband of mine. I will, however, say that it had something to do with Prozac and sex. With that, I wish you all a Happy Valentine's Day. Hope it doesn't break the bank, find you puking, and if you're on Prozac this year like I was last year - enjoy.