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Saint Valentine’s Day weekend proved to be rather marvelous! My Suitor and I reside in different locales, so our time spent together is a lovingly calculated affair. This year, I hosted him in the City.

valentineDue to the lateness of the hour, I arranged a simple dinner Friday night. Twenty plus candles were set out in his suite, the gift hidden, the moscato and wine glasses on the nightstand, the music queued up and the Red Baron pizza served on the bed. It was a nod to our first impromptu Saint Valentine’s. While, the setting was romantic and casual, I found myself giddy and giggly. My Suitor was impressed and amused. We laughed, ate, and drank. As the song of our first meeting began to play, he held out his hand and asked me to dance. I heartedly accepted and we danced in the candle lit room, letting the music and our emotions take over. The memory causes my knees to weaken. After wards, I presented him with the plush hedgehog toy I purchased last month. He adored it! We chatted and laughed hysterically until the wee hours of the morning before I teetered off to my room down the hall.

Upon morning, I met him for brunch downstairs. I attempted to whip up some strawberry pancakes from the directions left for me. It. Did. Not. Go. Well! As I stated in a previous post, my culinary skills are woefully under par for actual consumption. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. I lamented I could not stand to see him suffer my pancakes. I tossed the offending resemblance of food away, dug into my puny repertoire and cooked gourmet scrambled eggs with bacon and strawberries. *sigh* Better luck the next go round.

For our afternoon entertainment, we planned to leisurely stroll through the enormous Musical Instrument Museum. The place was dazzling and at times perplexing. Instruments from all around the globe; from countries no longer in existence to places I never heard of, from the dawn of time to the cutting edge. It seems ironic for a hearing-impaired person to make an appearance at such a place. Perhaps. I did not attend for the music, don the headsets, nor listen to the audio accompaniment, but I appreciated the artistry and the craftsmanship involved in the creations of the instruments.

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Incidentlaly, the high point of the visitation was not the instruments, but My Suitor, himself. On the first floor near the entrance was a 7′ Steinway Grand Piano inviting  amateurs and skilled musicians to tickle the ivories as they wished. I requested a serenade. At first, My Suitor thought I asked in jest. I batted my eyelashes and pleaded coyly for a piano serenade. So he obliged me, albeit a bit embarrassed. He played the short piece Comptine d’un Autre ete by Yann Tiersen. I sat on the settee beaming with pride as he bent over the piano. It was beautiful! Then again, I have a distorted perception since I would not be aware if an instrument was ever out of tune to begin with. Music is elusive to me, but I enjoyed what I heard. I clapped wildly when he finished; a half-dozen onlookers joined in. As My Suitor walked over he confirmed the song sounded superb due to the quality of the instrument. As I learned, a Steinway is considered the crem de la crem of piano. He received a few compliments as we meandered over to the cafe for refreshments. We viewed the rest of the Musical of the Musical Instrument Museum afterwards.

On the our way toward the exit, a sweet matronly lady asked My Suitor if he would play another piece on the Steinway, as she thoroughly enjoyed the first song. My Suitor blushed red and stammered that we were just departing. The woman insisted. My Suitor conceded with a bashful smile. I clapped my hands with glee and scurried back to the bench directly across from the piano. My Suitor began to play No Holly for Miss Quinn by Enya; which he later confessed he played for an eighth grade recital. Yet it was the only song that came to mind at the moment. As I sat taking photographs with my mobile telephone, an elderly gentleman sat down next to me. “He plays splendidly!” He praised. “He should. He is a musician.” I proffered. “And a semi-pro football player, a coach, and the music director of his church!” I boasted. “Wow,” the older man said with awe. “I know!” I giggled. “He is wonderful!” “Is he your husband?”–“I am working on it! Right now he is just My Suitor.” I laughed gaily. My Suitor finished to a round of applause from a much larger audience and those in the balcony. He feigned embarrassment, but I know he was relishing the attention. I introduced him to the gentleman beside me who gushed some more. As we left, the initial lady who requested the encore thanked us profusely and commented she would happily listen to him play all day long!

My Suitor's Encore

My Suitor’s Encore

Still basking in the accolades, we headed to the Cheesecake Factory for an early dinner. I refused to attempt my hand at cooking again and left it to the professionals. As we sipped moscato, his wine of choice, and waited for our entrée, we researched the cost of Steinway piano. Any new Steinway. He told me to brace myself before sliding over his findings across the table. I almost went into apoplectic shock. $44,000-$111,000!!! I recovered enough to eat. Our meal was delectable. Of course it was. I did not cook it. We stopped at a few shops before heading to the cinema. My Suitor had chosen Les Miserables for the occasion.

lesmisNot being wholly familiar with the novel nor witnessing the stage production beforehand, both of us were in for a shock. –I loved it! It was arguably one of the bleakest films I have seen in years, but it spoke of the human condition and was so emotionally raw. Ten minutes into the film, I was trying to prevent my lachrymose tendencies. The first death at the barricade, a few tears escaped, but Jean Valjean’s song Bring Him Home, did me in. Equally impressed, My Suitor was speechless with awe. He was astonished by Russell Crowe’s Inspector Javert. He was equally impressed with the young actor whom played Gavoroche. I begged to differ, Gavoroche’s high notes were the most painful to sit through. Nevertheless, I highly encourage others to see the film for all its morose pageantry. It was a stunning epic; even the lesser roles were expertly done. If you have not witnessed the spectacle yet, do go!

The night ended for us, as he had a game on the morrow. I bid him adieu and he closed the evening with a stolen kiss. I hope everyone else, had an equally pleasant Saint Valentine’s Day.

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