Tonight we had about half the anticipated attendance at Excelsior, which was fine, because with just four of us, we eased up on the rules a little and everything went fast anyway. It was quick, fun and productive. All the things a writing group meeting should be.
Of course, by my attendance at Excelsior (on what was a surprisingly easy drive to Canton--well, easy once I got out of Ann Arbor), that meant no Write Club with Julie. That we do next week instead. We think we'll give Bert's Cafe a try for a venue, since it's in the building (library) that connects Julie's and my work buildings, has a cafe (yay), and when we're done eating, if it looks like we're pressed for space, we can branch out into the library and still have drinks. And electrical plugs.
Of course, next Wednesday is the grand opening of said cafe, so perhaps we will not start at Bert's that day...
Anyway, back to Excelsior. Everyone is far too nice to me in that group. I wish there would be more pointing out of embarrassing typos. I live for a good typo.
I feel that this has been an incredibly dull post, so I will share a nearly-amusing anecdote.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, which happens to also mark the sixth year since my husband proposed to me.
Now, he largely proposed to me on Valentine's Day because it was convenient cover to do something romantic and then Unexpectedly Propose. I think that was his reasoning, anyway. You'd have to ask him.
However, prior to this, over the many years of our romantic relationship and even during our friendship before that, he had insisted vehemently many, many times that Valentine's Day is a crap holiday. You know the type of vehemence I mean. "It's all the card companies' doing." "I don't need a special day to say I love you." Etc. Not that we never did anything for Valentine's Day, it's just we never did much that was super-official or very exciting. Our first Valentine's Day, in fact, I think I took him to a concert and gave him a CD and he was both stunned and chagrined because he didn't get me anything. Some one or two times I think he managed to send flowers or whatnot--certainly, I've managed to send him flowers and whatnot several times too--but mostly, the day is marked with a kiss and a card, both brief, and perhaps a chocolate something.
It is, and was, never that big a deal. I've never been a consistent traditionalist with any holiday, let alone Valentine's Day. Sometimes I want a fuss, sometimes I don't, and that holds true for Christmas as much as Groundhog Day.
So, it didn't even seem that out of the ordinary when he decided to make a fuss that fateful Valentine's Day back in 2002. Other than that there'd been a mysterious answering machine message from a jeweler, so I had my suspicions. He took me to a movie. And didn't propose. He took me to a super fancy restaurant. And didn't propose. And it was getting on towards 11:30 at night, and the anticipation was building, and I had finally told myself that if he was, in fact, intending to propose, he was deliberately waiting until it wasn't Valentine's Day so that I would never, ever have an excuse to celebrate it on a regular basis (as our Engagement Anniversary).
I was so convinced, in fact, that at 11:45 when he pulled out a ring and asked me to be his wife, I said:
"You idiot."
And then said, "If you'd just waited fifteen more minutes, then Valentine's Day wouldn't be our Engagement Anniversary!"
There was some blinking. "Engagement Anniversary? That's not a thing," he told me.
(Sometime shortly thereafter, I did agree to marry him, and then got all sappily teary-eyed, even. I do have a gushy center. It's just surrounded by a big, double-thick layer of irony.)
This year, after several years of Not Doing Much for Valentine's Day, I sent him a bouquet of roses and wrote on the card, "Happy Engagement Anniversary. It is TOO a thing."
He sent me a cameraphone pic of the bouquet and message that said, "It is NOT a thing."
The debate rages on.
(Our love is so pure because we bicker.)