queen of hearts

Valentine's Day is coming up, and I'm getting a few sweet squeezable plush things ready to post in the shop this Friday. In preparation for sewing and stuffing, I cut and hand washed a dozen or so pretty hearts and hung them on the back line to dry in the afternoon breeze. This fact, and the fact I get to tell you about it, has charmed the pants off of me.

Now I'm going to get personal, are you ready? Not too much white fluff in this post, I'm not much in the mood for daisy chains and campfire songs...and I hope you enjoy it all the same.

Just about any old holiday anticipation period has the ability to send me into jubilant giggling sprees, cause me to shuffle 'seasonal' alcohol into my daily happy hour and prompt 'party!' themed wardrobe choices. There is no denying the compulsive nature of the holidays-and that the traditions surrounding them appeal to me.

That said, Valentine's Day has been the biggest loser from the holiday line up in my life thus far and can pretty much go kick rocks for all I care. Are you asking yourself why? Have you already assumed the same sad backstory for my romantic sensibilities as all those bitter grumps who spend V-day on a barstool huddled over a lonely beer, chain smoking and boozing their woes away? Eh, you wouldn't be all wrong.

For me, it all comes down to this: I really don't want to be swept off my feet. I want more.

Here's to poetry everyday.

Cheers,

Genevieve