I Love You Like A…

Blue-Footed Booby.

This, for me, would make a most excellent Valentine e-mail video.

In courtship, the male Blue-Footed Booby bird whistle-sings with its beak pointed to the sky, wing and tail feathers extended while showcasing its fantastic feet to prospective mates with a high-stepping strut. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gqf5bG_XXlc

Sure, our more traditional human rituals are nice.

Cards, candy, perhaps dinner out with a good bottle of wine. But the holiday is over-hyped and created to sell Hallmark cards with intimate, heartfelt messages directed at a hundred million son-in-laws, special persons, best friends and the like.

People do a general match-up of their sentiment with the corporate moneymaking store-bought card, underline a few words and sign their name. The V-day box has now been checked.

Homemade cards (even on used envelopes or pizza boxes) rule! And hand-written letters are simply the bomb. There’s just something more romantic about hand-writing than mass-produced typed messages from a stranger.

Chocolates Are Respectable.

IF they are Jacques Torres dark chocolate covered cornflakes, Chocolove Almond Sea salt bars or really anything pre-planned and individually selected. NOT the Godiva liquid centers grabbed last minute at Starbucks with the giver’s morning latte and certainly not any Fannie Mae assortments picked up in a day-of panic at CVS with shampoo and vitamin D.

Flowers are Appreciated.

IF they are peonies, hydrangea or a green and white assortment including both. The way to my heart does not involve strawberry colored carnations served in a plastic margarita glass. Nor a sad Stop & Shop bouquet hijacked from a near-empty case because something’s better than nothing.

But, here’s the deal.

In my extremely opinionated opinion, originality and creativity count. Humor is especially appreciated on this cheesiest of holidays. For example consider the following e-mailable options.

For The Most Special Person in my Life (you’d actually spell out there name),

I wish I had a red kidney-shaped pouch on my chest so I could demonstrate the voluminous explosive passion I feel for you.

http://www.arkive.org/great-frigatebird/fregata-minor/video-09a.html

Or…

My Darling Spouse (their actual name would go here),

I cannot moonwalk like the Red-Capped Manakin

http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/weirdest-manakin-dance

I cannot transform myself into a small black and turquoise alien like the

Bird of Paradise.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dx2CUMtZ-0

BUT…

I CAN rub your feet for three straight hours.

Can THEY do THAT?

I think NOT!

There is one important exception to my disgust with the unoriginal one day consumerization of love.

The demanding elementary school ritual of creating cards for EVERY SINGLE CLASSMATE in your your child’s class (they seem to get bigger each year) is unreasonable. Hats off to those who accomplish these beautiful hand-made individualized works of art.

And a big round of applause for those who buy the store-bought Sponge Bob candy boxes and save themselves hours of aggravation creating unpopular art cards that get tossed in seconds.

I am not organized enough to pull off home-made.

In fact, I still haven’t purchased the store-bought cards, meaning our boys will be giving Hello Kitty or Pooh Bear, which they will love.

I have to make attempts to be commercial in some areas since my 9 year-old son Leo told me a few weeks ago that he loves being the poetry family who likes to have family time, but wondered if it might be possible to play enough video games that he has some idea of what his friends are talking about at school.

Got it.

But, how can you not LOVE the Blue-Footed Booby?