Last year was the first year ever that I had flowers delivered to me at my place of employment on Valentine�s Day. The only reason I even received them then is that I left a brochure on John�s pillow with a circle around the exact flower arrangement I wanted. Now, I love flowers one heck of a lot, but really the only reason I wanted this particular arrangement on this particular day is that #1 they came in a lovely Waterford vase which I coveted and #2 I was trying to make someone else at work realize I was "taken".

John is great about bringing me flowers. It�s just that he brings them to me at home and they�re usually for no apparent reason. I prefer flowers for no reason, actually. It�s a more spontaneous show of one�s affections and therefore more genuine in my book. They�re not sent just because somebody decided February 14 was THE day to show your love. And actually, flowers are way too expensive on holidays. Just send them to me the week before and save $60, ya know? I�ll still appreciate them, other people in my office will still turn pea-green with envy (which is half the fun anyway) and you�ll still get your b.j. to prove just how thankful I am to have your considerate self in my life (because, let�s face it � you, being a man, don�t actually hear me say thank you unless my words are accompanied by oral sex). Plus, then we have sixty extra bucks to play with. Take me to dinner.

Anyway, my point is simply that, in all of those years watching as all of the women I have worked with received flower deliveries and little love-notes and teddy bears on Valentine�s Day, I never cared. I never became jealous that I had no boyfriend who would send me flowers and little love-notes and teddy bears or that the one I had hadn't bothered to do so. I did not become bitter and overcome with the feeling that I would never find true love just because I didn't get a flower delivery. I was happy for the other ladies and glad to be in the presence of so many lovely flowers.

No, seriously, I�m being honest here.

Maybe it�s just because, at those times in my life when I have been single (the present included), I have not really been sad about it. At least not since I was, oh about nineteen years old.

No, seriously, I�m being honest here.

I like being single. I like being independent. I like not having to do the dishes if I don�t have the energy that night, without caring that the dirty dishes may bother someone else. I like that when I had a bad day at work I can just go home, have a glass of wine and kill brain cells by watching stupid reality television - all without having to be civil to anyone. For that matter, I like watching stupid reality television without a running commentary about how my viewing habits are beneath my intellect. I like having complete control over the remote. I like knowing that I can take care of myself and therefore have to put up with nothing from nobody. Ever. Yes, I love John and look forward to seeing him every weekend. However, I also like having my freedom during the week and answering to nobody.

Even if one doesn't like being single for some strange reason, though, Valentine�s Day is ONE DAY. More to the point, flowers are simply FLOWERS. In no way do flowers make up for what really matters � finding someone who is kind, funny, considerate, passionate, smart, cares about other people and who enjoys keeping you sexually satisfied. If you have that, why the hell do you need flowers? Moreover, if you don�t have that, why are you concerned about flowers?

I have a great suspicion that it�s the flowers that make people jealous, too, and not the lack of love in their life as signified by said flowers. Because even women who have the love will get pissed if they don�t have the flower delivery.

Had John ever bothered to do the dishes even once while we were living together and without my having to ask him to do them, he could have forgotten all about buying me any sort of flowers ever. And he still would have received his b.j.�s in appreciation. Actually, he probably would have received more of them because there is nothing I hate more than doing the damn dishes.

These are the things that matter in a relationship, peeps: Dishes and Sex. The rest is all fluff.

~~~

Well, I relented this morning and changed my OBGYN appt. I'm now going on Friday. This friggin' lump is just buggin' me way too much to wait until the 18th. Not only does my bra bother it during the day, when I take off the bra at night (well, seconds after I close my front door, really) just the weight of my breast hurts it. Last night I was walking around the pad with my left breast in my hand, holding it up to keep the weight off of the lump.

Believe me, it was not fun nor was it attractive.

~~~

This is a pretty interesting update to my recent mention of Ed Rosenthal, from today's NY Times:

Jurors Who Convicted Marijuana Grower Seek New Trial
By DEAN E. MURPHY

SAN FRANCISCO, Feb. 4 � In an unusual show of solidarity with the man they convicted last week, five jurors in the trial of a medicinal marijuana advocate issued a public apology to him today and demanded that the judge grant him a new trial.

The jurors said they had been unaware that the defendant, Ed Rosenthal, was growing marijuana for medicinal purposes, allowed since 1996 under California state law, when they convicted him on three federal counts of cultivation and conspiracy. He is to be sentenced in June and faces a minimum of five years in prison.

"I'm sorry doesn't begin to cover it," said one of the jurors, Marney Craig, a property manager in Novato. "It's the most horrible mistake I've ever made in my entire life. And I don't think that I personally will ever recover from this."

The judge in the case, Judge Charles R. Breyer of Federal District Court, had barred Mr. Rosenthal's defense from mentioning the state law because he was indicted under federal law, which does not allow the growing of marijuana for any purpose.

When he was arrested last February, Mr. Rosenthal was cultivating starter plants in a warehouse that were to be distributed to seriously ill patients by medical marijuana clubs in the San Francisco Bay Area. Mr. Rosenthal, who lives in Oakland, was acting in his official capacity as "an officer of the city" under Oakland's medical marijuana ordinance, Oakland officials said...

Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company

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