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Valentine’s Days

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It’s not like our Valentine’s celebrations are all that different from our usual activities. But whether it was the day’s magic, a rosy mindset or just dumb luck, our weekend was unusually flawless.   Every Friday workday should end with office giggles. It’s a good sign—and infinitely more likely to happen now that Copy Editor […]

February 14, 2011


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It’s not like our Valentine’s celebrations are all that different from our usual activities. But whether it was the day’s magic, a rosy mindset or just dumb luck, our weekend was unusually flawless.

 

Every Friday workday should end with office giggles. It’s a good sign—and infinitely more likely to happen now that Copy Editor Megan has made her triumphant return, reincarnated as Web Editor Megan. Left to our own devices after a long week, the sub-35 crowd here in the editorial nook (me, Megan and Beau the Universal Assistant, another member of the Royal Denton Family) can be flat out ridiculous.

 

From there, CCB and I took a sunset stroll around Bayfront Park before heading to Two Senoritas for tacos and a coconut margarita. Another stroll and a quick stop by the Bahi Hut to say hi to kickball pals the Deelios, and Friday ended with the dulcet tones of my Rock Band rendition of Blondie’s “Call Me.” CCB’s tolerance for my unpleasant vocals (see also: snoring) apparently knows no bounds.

 

Saturday, too, went surprisingly smoothly. Mrs. Harrible picked me up at 9 a.m. to go to the Fashion Focus Hair Academy in Gulf Gate, which is apparently the secret salon for Asolo staff. The hairdresser/teacher simultaneously explains his techniques to the observing group of students (one of whom went to high school with me—random). And since it had been nigh onto a year since my last cut, they convinced me to go a little shorter than I initially requested in order to contribute my trimmings to Locks of Love, a Valentine’s-worthy organization if ever there was one, which provides hairpieces for disadvantaged kids suffering from medical hair loss. A near-phobia of salons turns into a charitable contribution (…on the next Oprah). Added bonus, I wind up with a kicky new ‘do that I never could’ve brought myself to request otherwise.

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Me and my new haircut…which you can’t see that well ’cause I’ve got a black shirt on. And sunglasses.So, y’know: me.

CCB met us down there, and we swung by Mr. Beery’s Beer Mile race to root on the Deelios with Rock Stars Kim and Kreg. I can’t say that watching people chug Miller Lights in between every quarter mile is the most pleasant way to spend your morning, but it did validate my decision not to participate. Uck. (Although I will say that some of the members of the Manasota Track Club are hardcore.)

 

I managed to push those images from my mind in time for lunch at Tijuana Flats, followed by a spontaneous trip to the bowling alley. (High score out of four games: 125. I always forget how much I suck at bowling.) From there we strolled Southgate Mall and then headed home, with a quick stop at DQ on the way to pick up a heart-shaped ice cream cake. CCB and I aren’t usually big dessert people, but dude: ice cream cake.

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A CCB-made meal.

The real star of the weekend was Saturday night. After our naps, while I enjoyed a bubble bath with some neglected issues of Time and a MJQ album on the record player, CCB prepared spaghetti from scratch, then dutifully recreated my mother’s carbonara recipe. Dear. Lord. In heaven. That was delish. A glass of chardonnay and a plate full of cheesy, creamy, bacony ecstasy—the weekend peaked with that dinner, lit only by candles and the glow from the Lightning game on TV.