Valentine's Day

Hibernation Hiatus

Preston and I have shared Valentine's Days through the mail, a surprise trip to Tacoma and a meager, balmy picnic in a Western Australian hamlet. This year we decided to do it in style; we headed downtown baby. 

My Downtown Valentine

Preston wore his Thailand tailored suit and I modeled boots, mittens and a pair of Preston's Under Amour. With the aid of a primarily black ensemble, the naked eye was unable to discern the thick long underwear from chic lady-like leggings. 

We sipped on plum wine and imported beer in Wasabi's lobby. After dining on heart-shaped sushi rolls we began our frigid journey to Dempsey's Irish Pub. And because two blocks is too far in -9 we stopped to refresh our spirits at Fort Noks and Rooters. 

Ice, Ice, Baby

Jaeger and Whiskey, the evening's sponsors, made us friends, distracted from the band and exiled us into the perpetual polar vortex. Earlier that night Preston had thought to lock all of his keys in the car, opting just to take his spare; reasoning, one key is easier to keep track of. Later that evening, after jaeger bomb #4 to be precise, we caught a taxi home. And it was only when we were swaying in the bitter wind and wobbling on the icy walkway that we realized the house key was locked eight miles north. 

Two Hours Before...happier/warmer times

Neighbors let me into the warm building as Preston took the taxi back. A long forty minutes later, he returned unsuccessful. Quite worse actually. Somewhere between here and there he lost his spare key in Fargo's snowy tundra. A thin wood door separated us from a warm bed. There was only one thing to do. In fact I had attempted to do it twenty minutes before. 

"Go ahead Pres, just kick down the door". 

And with three swift jiu jitsu moves the door was down and we were in the welcoming hallway of our hobbithole. We both worked that Saturday. I served coffee and pie. Preston repaired a broken door for a silly couple of Californians.