My Sweetie Knows Me

When Valentine’s Day hit, I got up in the morning and, before The Official Sweetie of Muddled Ramblings and Half-Baked Ideas rose from her slumber, I paused just a moment to appreciate just how lucky I am. The Official Sweetie does not need me to make gestures on days like this to know I love her.

But it turns out she wanted to make a gesture for me. And it was magnificent. Here’s what I got from the Bronx Zoo:

I suspect that if I went to the Bronx Zoo tomorrow and demanded to be introduced to my namesake, I would be met with dithering and obfuscation. “It’s in there somewhere,” they would say, as if, should my namesake emerge, the zookeepers could say, “that’s Jerry Seeger the Roach and Stuff right there!”

But seriously, it’s this kind of thing that makes me love the Official Sweetie so much.


Ah, Love

Behind me is a first or second date going very well. She keeps surprising him with baseball knowledge, she’s laughing at his jokes. There have been kisses. Right on, guys.

The Language of Omission

She was surprised when I mentioned that I knew she was sweet on the guy, but it would be pretty dang obvious to anyone who paid attention. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks since but she’s here now, sitting next to the man of her dreams, and he’s being friendly but is also being meticulously careful to not give the wrong idea. Case in point: she pulled out a cigarette, slipped it between her lips, and waited. No lighter came. That has to be a sad moment.