We don't make a particularly big deal out of Valentine's Day in our household, partly because it's such a silly affair full of expectations and pressure -- and partly because it was usurped in our family six years ago this day by the birth of my niece Olivia. Really, a far more important matter to celebrate.
Still, my husband is not fool enough to let today pass without at least a small gesture of a simple bouquet, my favorite kind. And there's something just so clean and perfect, so compact and magnificent, about white tulips that I thought you might like to share them.
Speaking of my niece Olivia, I'm not confirming that the fabric above was purchased specifically with her birthday in mind. I'm just showing it to you, is all. It is, the astute observer will note, based on Ian Falconer's famed and adorable children's books about Olivia the pig. I'm not sure many children are equipped to really appreciate the beautiful simplicity of Falconer's work -- nor do I think my niece has really reconciled with the idea of being associated with such a porcine figurine -- but I just think there's something heart-breakingly sweet about said piggie and her exploits.
We're off to Indianapolis tomorrow for a quick weekend trip, in which we will celebrate Olivia's birthday (belatedly, of course) and Chris' birthday on Sunday. One of them will be celebrating with a Saturday afternoon bash at Chuck E. Cheese's, but I shan't tell you which.