I've gotten to the point where giving a Valentine's Day gift feels better than receiving one. Not that I'll return the hand-crafted chocolate truffles you might send! but I'm grateful for the unconditional, quirky love I've been given.
When I met The Husband, I was a TV reporter and he was a photo editor for a popular film and TV site. And then I went and became an artist.
In spite of the career changes, the Great Recession and the
hell-raising child-raising, The Husband has proven over and over what I once told his mother: "He trusts me to be wonderful."
So this altered book, "It's Complicated," is a valentine: both to whomever falls in love with it on Etsy, and to The Husband for not running for the hills when he discovered all my creaky bits and glued-together parts.
|From my Pinterest board "Wish I'd Said That"|
Before I met my husband, though, my father was the one who helped me believe in myself.
This is the the guy who sent me chocolate and flowers on Valentine's Day during the MANY years I was unencumbered by Valentine's Day presents from anyone else.
I see this image and think of him: the memory of my dad's face lighting up when I came to visit, and the warmth of his smile.
So for all the gift-givers who make Valentine's Day a genuine chance to express love, here's another altered book: "Daddy Loves Me." I know, probably should've kept this one under wraps until Father's Day. But I think unconditional love should be celebrated whenever possible.