Happy Valentines Day!

First off, I would like to apologize if I offended anyone with my entry of yesterday. Also, if on the slight chance the party in question with the zaftig figure should read this entry or be informed of it by someone else, I meant everything I said. These are things that should have been told to her by her singing teacher, which I am not, because she is only making a fool of herself when she gets up on stage to perform looking like a hooker. And having said all that, I will now leave the subject and go on to something else�

�like how my plans for my husband worked out rather well. He arrived home from his squash game (having been beaten soundly by Lloyd, the only one who can defeat him these days) with flowers, chocolates and a card. The flowers bear description: a red anthurium, a relative of the bird-of-paradise, and a great big red flower that looks like an upside-down schawm. The chocolates are dark (the best!) and filled with caramel, orange cream, lemon cream, hazlenuts, or just a plain wafer. We had one apiece for dessert.

I presented him with a card and lunch of ch�vre on baguette, vintage darjeeling tea with the chocolate, and incredibly hot sex for dessert. That would make two desserts. Yes folks, there is sex after 40. It may not be quite as frequent, but it is tempered with experience and an intimacy borne of long association. Also, I tipped the scales at a cool 110 lbs. this morning (or a mean 50 kg. for my metric readers), and got all excited just thinking about my lean, mean, sex machine.

This has turned into quite the x-rated entry. There�s steam coming out of the keyboard.

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