Dare I follow the heards?

The abundance of Valentine's sentiments and preparations has made my own lack of such things glaringly obvious...at least to me.
There are no red hearts strung artistically from my windows, chocolate of any shape or form baking away in my oven, and perhaps my worst offense is that there is nary a scrap of racy lace any where in my house, let alone close to my unmentionables. I know, sad, isn't it?

Or is it?

There is no lack of lovey-dovey cuddling going on in my house, as the bubble post will contest to. And as there are still snowmen and Santa Claus' strung artistically in my windows, I really don't have room for pink and red hearts. Any and all chocolate would go directly to my ass, and I can only assume my husband would be anywhere from indifferent to regretful about that situation. And as for racy lace...that's just not my style. I'm not subtle. My style would be more a show and tell slide show of my trip to Brazil if you know what I mean, *wink wink*.

So where does that leave me? I'm not a valentine's scrouge, yet I'm not about to fart cupids either. There's got to be a middle road for people like me. And perhaps there is. Without family to babysit for a romantic night out, or in, my Valentine and I will have to make do with a family celebration, and then savour the moments after the fruit of our loins are asleep and we have time to breath. I may even bust out some craft paper and crayons and make him a little something-something. But even if I don't, I know that he knows I love and appreciate him. And then in a few years when my almost-three year old can understand what valentine's day is, I'll be motivated enough to take down santa and replace him with hearts and cupids. I mean, you can't go wrong when there's chocolate involved, right?