God made me weird

Well, maybe weird isn’t the right word. I’m very different from most typical women.

Pierced ears? Nope. Not here. Not ever. I figure if God wanted me to hang stuff from my ears, He’d have given me holes there already.

Jewelry? Not crazy about it at all.

Clothes? Are a necessity — and make them comfy I hate to shop though. Duck has to drag me to the stores, pick out clothes for me to try on, and then tell me whether or not I look good in them. He’s the reason I have color in my wardrobe. If it were up to me, everything would be black or white and jeans.

Valentine’s Day? Hate it. Hate it with a capital H. I’m not really into flowers (to tell the truth I’m allergic to them) and I’m not all that into chocolate. But the biggest thing I hate about the day are the expectations. Every year I tell Duck I really don’t want flowers, and honestly I don’t even want a card (have you seen how much they cost now?). Every year he buys me flowers and a card just in case I didn’t really mean it when I said I didn’t want them. What can I do? Get mad? Nah. I tell him thank you and don’t hurt his feelings. He’s done what he’s supposed to do — what’s expected of a man on Valentine’s Day. He’s great like that — he’s always the gentleman. He opens doors for me (which I love) and treats me with respect. He takes good care of me.

I don’t need all that stuff. I just need a big hug, an “I love you,” and maybe cuddle up in front of the fire for a good movie. So, Duck, if you’re reading this (and I know you will), I sincerely don’t want flowers or a card. I’d rather have some quality time with you.

Oh, and all that mushy stuff I said about you taking good care of me? Well, that’s your V-day present. I love you with all my heart. Thanks for putting up with me another year Oh yeah, and thanks for buying me a Harley