I don't celebrate Valentine's Day. It's silly to me. Why do I need to tell my significant other, family, and friends that I love them one day of the year just because the calendar tells me so? Why can't I tell them every single day of the year if the meaning is there?  I feel, if your significant other, family, and friends truly loved you, they'd show, say, and express it all the time - not try to make it up to you one day of the year when Hallmark, Hershey's, and flower shops make their most money.

Wuv. Twue Wuv. (I am such a product of the 80s ... Princess Bride, anyone?)

What is love?

Webster's Dictionary defines love as: An intense feeling of deep affection, or, a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone).

Reading a definition of a feeling, is like going to the doctor and having him explain everything to you in medical terms. It's cold. Feeling-less. Unnatural.

So, I've decided today to share with you some morsels of information on love and Valentine's Day (get it? morsels, as in chocolate ... hehehe ... I make myself laugh!).

Wow! I just read J.A. Konrath's blog and I'm sitting here with my mouth agape, astonished. That man never ceases to amaze me. Seriously! Not only does he churn out some really hot best sellers, he's been professionally published and yet, STILL, chooses to self-publish making, $100,000 in just 3 weeks. That's AH-MAY-ZING! I can only hope to sell that many books some day.

Which gets me to thinking ...

I'm about to be totally honest and personal right now, and it's only because of something I read. One of those chain e-mails that goes around every holiday, to remind us each to be thankful for what we have and to think of others during trying times.

I also just read an article online that was about a mom in her thirties, that had 2 children aged 10 and 12. She had moved to Texas from Ohio about 8 months prior and had applied for food stamps sometime in July. Unfortunately her application was denied. I guess she hadn't filled out enough information. Because her application was denied, she decided to take her two children with her to the state assistance office ... along with a gun. A standoff and hostage situation ensued, ending with the mom wounding her children and fatally shooting herself.  Her children were critically wounded and are unconscious right now.

My questions are ... did anyone ever reach out to that mom to try and help her? Did anyone know their situation and offer a helping hand? Something had to snap for that woman to go about in the way she did.

Let me begin by saying, in no way am I going to pursue this because I find it incredibly funny. Leave it to me to be the one candy is "attracted" to, and ultimately be the one that candy has caused pain. Now, I know that candy can be a cause of the dreaded "tooth-decay", but who knew getting whipped in the head with a Fifth Avenue candy bar could leave one with a headache that's lasted over 24 hours and a head welt. *wince*

It's that season again ... the dreaded cold and flu season. I am no doctor, I'm just a mom of three kids, but I am so sick and tired of hearing the same warnings year after year; "You better button up, you're gonna catch the flu," or "Throw away your toothbrush, if you keep it you'll get sick again," or my all-time favorite, "Here, here, use this." *Squirts a ton of Germ-X or Purell or whatever name brand hand sanitizer there is within arms reach*

When I go to work and have to take one of my fifteen minute breaks, I take the opportunity to hop online and check out the latest news on Yahoo!. Of late, the site seems more gossipy than it has ever felt in the past, and I've been an avid Yahoo! user since I was 13-years-old. I choose to ignore the majority of the "gossip" stories and try to stick with the news, to see what's going on in the world.

On Monday, one headline read, "200 Pound 3rd Grader Put Into Foster Care." Being a foster child myself until the age of 13 (technically 10, as I was adopted by the family that I moved in with at age 10), I was intrigued (if not, morbidly curious) at what this child's parents had done to make the state intervene in such a manner. Did this child's mother force feed him, like that mother that killed her baby by force feeding it? Or, did the child want to win some sort of Guinness Book of World Records contest by being the largest 8-year-old, and did the mother allow that? Instead of coming up with other wild and weird scenarios, I decided to read the story.

Let me ask you, are you guilty of thinking like these scenarios:

1. Your friend works at a call center. You think, with a roll of your eyes, 'Her job is so easy! All she does is answer the phone all day and transfer the calls. How hard is that?'

2. Your father comes home exhausted. You can't understand why, he's just an electrician! Despite the risks in his career,  you don't think it's particularly physical. You think, 'All he does is connect wires all day, what's so physical about that?'

3. Your sister is complaining to you about her day; she's a stay at home mom of three kids under the age of ten. You work over 40 hours, have 2 kids in school, and have to drive over 30 minutes to and from work. You think, 'Why the heck is she complaining? She is so lucky she gets to stay home and play all day. I'd never complain if I got to stay home all day!'

I know I have an 'About Me' section, and that area over there --> says a few things about me too, but did you know . . .?

I was perusing another writer's blog and one from her archive caught my eye - it was a letter to her younger self. Her 20 year old self. I read it and was amused by the things she had learned since she turned 30. One was - never give up. I've always thought that myself. I wouldn't be who I am, what I am, if I had given up.

Then I got to thinking . . . didn't P!nk write a song about talking to her younger self? So I looked it up, and sure enough I found the song 'Conversations with my 13 year old self'. I liked that song from P!nk's album 'I'm not Dead'. She's very expressive, out-spoken, to the point . . . something I wish I could be. So I continued thinking (*can you smell the smoke from where you are?* snicker, snicker) . . . what would I tell my younger self? Would I say, 'stiffen up that upper lip'? Would I bash myself for not being confident? Would I take my 13 year old self and give me a hug?