Happy Valentine's Day to the Love of My Life

For those of you scratching your heads, and thinking, "Wait--there's a man in Deborah's life?" No, you haven't missed anything :-) I have, in fact, had two guys I would consider the two great romantic loves of my life. One of them has been dead for over 30 years, and the other is alive and well and living in Maine, and we're still friends. And while I haven't completely given up hope of finding lucky number three, so far guys who want to spend their lives with a back-country witch with five cats and a tendency to spend most of her time writing are pretty thin on the ground. Shocking, I know.

The great love of my life was really this woman:

That's my grandmother, Jeanette, fondly referred to for many years as Germambie (due to my inability as a child to say "Ger...andma") and then later called GG, short for Great-grandma, once my sisters had kids.

She was not just my greatest supporter and cheerleader, but also an amazing example of what one person can do with a "regular" life if she has enough determination. (Mind you, both my parents are great examples of that too.) She was a concert pianist in her youth, and a master weaver later in life. She married my grandfather, who was the love of her life in a romantic story against her father's wishes, and stayed by his side until he died of cancer in 1976. After that, although she missed him, she also gloried in living her life her way; she was a vegetarian, a life-long learner, and woke up every morning excited to see what the day might hold.

She died, a couple months shy of her 100th birthday, three years ago today. Thanks, Germambie...like Valentine's Day didn't suck enough for me already? (Snort.) In the end, I find that somehow fitting, because she was the personification of love for her family, all of whom adored her. One of the interesting things that we discovered after she died was that just about everyone had the feeling that they were her favorite. I know she was certainly mine.

That's one of the last pictures we took of her in her home in Schenectady, before she headed out to San Diego to live closer to my parents when she was 96. (And still driving, and doing her own shoveling, if my brother in-law didn't get over there soon enough to stop her. Did I  mention that she was a little stubborn?) That's me in the back, of course, next to my sister Sarah (whose own home is a block and a half away from where my grandmother used to live--a decision she and her husband Rich made on purpose, both so they could be around to help, and so their kids could grow up close to her). My niece Bri is on the left, and Addy (who had just made the funky scarf GG is wearing) is on the right.

I hope that on this Valentine's Day you have someone--romantic or not--to be one of the great loves of your life. If not, I'll loan you GG; she had enough love for everyone.

Miss you, Germambie.

And for those of you who complain when I skip Feline Friday, here are the current loves of my lives, in all their furry glory.

By the way...stay tuned because early next week, I'm going to have another swag giveaway! Which do you think I should do next--mug or notebook? And who is the greatest love of your life?

Thoughts on Valentine's Day & Missing Germambie

I have a confession. Valentine's day has never been one of my favorite days of the year. In fact--I mostly think it sucks. In the loud, blurpy way a dismal bog sucks as you walk through it and it eats one of your best shoes. Glub.

This is not a new dislike. Back in the days when I was married or seriously involved with someone, I tended to be with guys who didn't "do" romance well. Perfectly lovely in other ways, most of them didn't excel at cards and flowers. That's okay. Frankly, I'm not much of a romantic myself. I'd rather be treated well all year long than be showered with obligatory gifts on one particular day. But still...

These days, it is REALLY not my day. I haven't been in a relationship in over ten years, and at 51, living in a small town, pursuing mostly solitary activities, and (let's face it) belonging to what might seem to some an over-abundance of cats, the odds of my ever finding THE ONE seem to grow slimmer every day.

I'm okay with that, for the most part. Not happy about it--I'm a woman who likes to be part of a couple, and I miss a lot of things about having a guy in my life. I really miss sex, damn it. And it would be nice not to always be the one to take out the garbage. But I've made my peace with my solitary life, and am ever mindful (as I watch some of the people I love struggle with unhappy relationships) of the positives of being alone.

I get to eat what I want, when I want it. Never have to share the remote. Get to have a pile of felines on my bed without someone complaining about the fur. Peace and quiet. No arguments about who was supposed to have taken out the garbage. It's a good life. Not the one I'd hoped for, but a good life, none the less, and I refuse to let the lack of someone to share it with make it any less good.

But I really hate the way Valentine's Day kinda shoves that solitary-ness in my face. (Bite me, Hallmark. No, really. Bite me.)

This year, I have an even better reason not to like this day. A year ago tomorrow, on Valentine's Day 2011, I lost my beloved grandmother. The family called her Germambie, from my youthful inability to say "grandma" and then G.G., when she became a great-grandmother. She was the true love of my life: inspiration, supporter, cheerleader, baker of cookies and giver of hugs. I miss her more than I can say, although I know that, at almost 100 years old, we got a lot more time with her than we might have hoped. It wasn't enough.

Tomorrow, I will be thinking about love, in all its variations. And hoping that all of you have someone special to share your day with--furry or otherwise. If not, I highly recommend chocolate. Even if you have to give it to yourself :-)