Valentines

This workboat was at the Seabreeze restaurant on an unusually cold, windy day. I have very fond memories of a workboat that actually looks identical and for all I know may be this very one. My high school boyfriend was a waterman, and I'd go clamming with him sometimes. I'll write a whole separate post on those experiences and my intense love for workboats, because that love can't be conveyed in a few brief sentences here.

Speaking of past boyfriends-- but not about how some crazy woman just professed her love for a wooden vessel--we turn now to a brief glimpse at some of the antics that Chesapeake Bay Woman has found herself a party to. Or a victim of. Of which she found herself a party. To.

(I know the grammar rules, really I do, in spite of all my obvious errors. I just choose to ignore them. I pay attention at work, but I'm not at work because this blog gig doesn't pay one red cent. So if I want to have dangling participles, run-on sentences, split infinitives, conjunctivitis and prepositions at the end of a sentence, I'll go ahead and do it. And yes, I know what conjunctivitis is, I was just seeing if you were awake.)

Valentines Day conjures up images of homemade cards made of construction paper and adorned with white lace. Conversation hearts, chocolate, flowers and romance. Chasing a blond-haired boy around the playground in second grade. Throwing him down on the ground and kissing him. Woops, I got side tracked, I'm sure not everyone did that....

If I ever had a particularly special Valentines Day as an adult, I don't remember it. Of course that doesn't mean I didn't have one, it just means that like most everything else that happened before I had children, I've forgotten it. (One day, "they" are going to discover that I'm right, that kids cause mothers to have permanent brain damage which renders any and all memory functions null and void. In case I'm not alive when this happens, please tell them that Chesapeake Bay Woman says, "I told you so.")

No, there isn't a particular Valentines Day that stands out in my mind, but I do recall some memorable dates, none of which have anything to do with flowers, romance or chocolate, but at least one of which has something to do with mud, stolen bicycles and awkward first impressions.

One time a guy I barely knew asked me out to dinner in Williamsburg. Yadda yadda yadda, close to midnight he decided he wanted to take me to one of the local plantations. Yes, a historic plantation at midnight. As my eyes shifted quickly from left to right, I pondered his proposal and decided it sounded like a good idea. This is because I had Stupid Teenager Hormones coursing through my veins.

When we arrived at the plantation, he (but not I) was surprised to see that it was closed. We couldn't enter the grounds thanks to a locked gate at the end of the driveway. Mere rules were not going to deter him, however. He put his truck in four-wheel drive and barreled through a swamp with the intention of going around the gate. Once again to his surprise (but not mine) we got stuck in the mud, had to leave the truck and hoofed it back to Colonial Williamsburg. It was cold, dark and we were very far away from Colonial Wiliamsburg thereby creating the longest walk in the history of walks on a first date with someone you barely know where both of you are covered in dried up mud from the swamp outside a historic plantation.

This happens to everyone, I know, but it was a first for me. The excitement didn't end there, though, not for a Chesapeake Bay Woman date.

He borrowed (some people would say "stole") a bicycle that was leaning up against someone's tree, and I rode on the handlebars. This is what everyone does on a first date at two in the morning, right? I casually admired the pretty Christmas lights in the windows of the historic buildings as I delicately balanced myself on the handlebars. He on the other hand strained to see where he was going and grunted as he struggled to pedal a teetering bicycle that was very heavily laden down in the front. Somehow we found a pay phone, called a cab and ended up getting a ride to his mother's house, about 20 minutes away.

Did I mention I hardly knew this guy? "Hey, Mumma, have you met Chesapeake Bay Woman? We got stuck in the mud trying to bust into a historic plantation, and I drove her on a stolen bicycle while she sat on the handlebars, and can she spend the night in the guest room because my truck is stuck in a historic swamp, and I can't drive her home--which is over an hour away?" They say first impressions are everything. Mine reeked of mud.

There are several other dates which stand out in my mind, but I'll save those stories for another time because I now see that everyone has fallen asleep.

In the meantime, speaking of stories, stay tuned for info on how to vote for our contest winner. If you have time this weekend, check back through our list of entries and begin thinking about your first and second choice.

I hope everyone spends Valentines Day with someone they love, whether it is a spouse, a significant other, a parent, a child, a friend, a pet, or simply the memory of someone special.

Celebrate the love, but steer clear of historic plantations after hours.

Trust me.