You Choo Choo Choose Me?

"And there's a picture of a train!"

Every Valentine's Day I can't help but think about the endearing reaction of little Ralphie Wiggum from The Simpsons when Lisa gives him this card for Valentine's Day. Granted, she gives it to him out of pity because there were no cards for him in his box, but the scene still makes my heart melt.

After reading a little too much into Lisa's card, Ralph then invites Lisa on a date to see Krusty the Clown Live. Because Lisa really wants to see the show, she plays along and agrees to go even though she doesn't like Ralph.

As Lisa has feared, the camera pans to them during the show and Ralph professes his love for her on TV. Embarrassed, Lisa finally loses her cool and shouts, "I don't like you. I never liked you. And the only reason I gave you that valentine is that nobody else would!"

Later, while watching a video of the show, Bart slows the tape down to show Lisa that "You can actually pinpoint the second when his heart rips in half."

Awww, poor Ralph! And while I've been on both sides of the rejection wall many times in my life, the first time I ever experienced heartbreak was in 3rd grade due to a Valentine's Day card gone awry.

I had had a crush on Jason since kindergarten. We were both left-handed, and on the first day of school, he taught me how to draw a star on the chalk board. You could say it was "love at first chalk drawing." Jason's birthday was also two days prior to mine, and when I found out that my mother and Jason's mother shared a hospital room in the maternity ward, I knew we were meant to be.

I continued to carry my obsession for my crush quietly through kindergarten, first, and second grades, but when third grade rolled around, I guess I thought that something finally needed to give. So, I did.

I was grocery shopping with my Mom one evening in February when we passed by the greeting card section in the store. The section was beaming with pink and red, an indication that Valentine's Day was just around the corner. I can't remember if it was my idea or my Mom's, but somehow it was determined that I needed to give Jason a "special" Valentine's Day card, while the rest of my classmates received chintzy 3x3 Barbie-themed valentines that came in sheets, and you had to separate the cards using the perforated lines.

After much browsing for the perfect card that would undoubtedly reveal my own pink & red feelings for Jason, I was confident with my final selection. In fact, I still remember the printed sentiment exactly. The cover read, "I'd give you my heart for Valentine's Day" - open the card - "but you've had it all along."

So on the night of February 13th, I busied myself with decorating my own receptacle for various cartoon-themed chintzy valentines to be received by me from my classmates. As was the tradition every year in elementary school, I cut a slot in an old shoe box and covered it with tin foil and various sizes of pink and red construction paper hearts. When I finished the box, I signed all of the Barbie cards to my classmates, as well as my card to Jason. I was prepared and excited for the greatest Valentine's Day of my life.

The next morning, I was feeling brave and I was armed with LOVE! What could go wrong?!

When it came time in school that day to distribute our cards, the sharply contrasted size of Jason's card compared to rest of the bunch did not go unnoticed by my classmates, and they didn't hesitate to annoyingly inquire. But I diligently ignored all questions and confidently headed up to the silver boxes lining the window sill when it was my turn. The distribution was going smoothly until I reached Jason's box, which was located roughly in the middle. I discovered right away that my giant card for him would not fit into the designated slot. I tried though. Oh boy did I try to stuff that puppy in there! But it just wouldn't fit. And a line was quickly forming behind me with my fellow students bumping into each other and stepping on each other's heels, confused as to the reason for the hold up. Frustrated, and no doubt with my cheeks totally bursting with crimson, I finally just opened the damn box top (ripping a construction paper heart or two in my haste), and jammed the card inside.

And after each remaining personalized card had been placed into its corresponding shiny shoe box, I casually made my way back to my seat. And now it was time to wait. Time to wait and stare with anticipation for Jason's reaction to my professed love.

Now, I've been thinking about it a lot, and for the life of me I just cannot remember what on earth I expected to happen when Jason opened my big ass valentine. But the reality of what resulted can be compared to the scene in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when Clark drags the whole family out of the house and creates much fanfare in anticipation for viewing the Christmas lights he'd  been installing all day, only for his elaborate illumination efforts to fail. During this scene, you hear the orchestral music swell, and when the millions of tiny bulbs don't light up, the music immediately cuts off, save for symbols crashing off beat.

Even though I had accidentally torn one of Jason's construction paper hearts on his box, my giddy anticipation compared to Jason's face failing to light up after opening my card caused my heart to tear. His face was so expressionless while reading the card -the card I had so carefully and painstakingly selected- that you would've thought he'd been reading from the list of that week's spelling words.

If there had been video recorded of the third grade Valentine's Day party at Richardson Elementary that day, you could have slowed down the tape and actually pinpointed the second when my heart ripped in half.

I had been crushed by my crush!

The outcome may not have been what I had hoped for, but as I look back on that situation as an adult, I'm actually really proud of myself for having taken that risk. And sometimes, I wish I was still just as ballsy as that knobby kneed 3rd grader.

And although it has been a million years since my very own St. Valentine's Day massacre, I'm still somewhat weary about giving V-Day cards. Which is the reason why, even though I love arts and crafts, I chose to avoid a panic attack by respectfully declining a friend's invitation to a Valentine's Day card making party at Paper Source only a few weeks ago.

Intention Retention

In reference to my previous post, I had an immeasurable amount of success with "setting my intention" for the entire week last week. Not only did I stick with it, but I've been inspired to set a weekly intention going forward.

I'll admit that staying focused last week wasn't always easy. There was a time or two when I'd catch myself ruminating about one thing or another, and I would then need to remind myself, "For crying out loud, Steph! Stay in the F@#$ing moment!" I also found myself repeating the words, "positive thoughts and outcomes, positive thoughts and outcomes" quite a bit, which has carried over into this week as well.

Setting my intention for the week was an excellent experiment, and the experience really drove home the fact that our good fortune is mostly a result of our good intentions. And while it's crucial to have faith and trust in the process of life, it's crucial to passionately engage in that process too.

On a partially related note, a couple weekends ago I was having dinner with my closest friends, and I agreed to share a bottle of Evolution wine with one of my best girls, Jennie, after she very enthusiastically discovered it on the menu and told me it was her absolute favorite. Upon consuming my half, I agreed that it was indeed very delicious. So delicious, in fact, that last weekend I checked to see if it is sold at Target. Much to my delight, it is!

Upon scooping up a bottle from the shelf and reading the label, I discovered that Evolution wine is a combination of several different types of white wines. The creators named it "Evolution" because they tried & tested, mixed & matched, and built one upon the other until they reached a flavor so magnificent that they deemed it fit to share with the world.

The label also notes that the creators of Evolution wine shun the idea that dumb luck is responsible for the successful outcome, and instead tout the intention of their masterpiece. And as you can probably guess, I instantly decided it was a sign to buy a bottle as a reward for setting my own intentions to evolve.