Call Me a Dreamer

I hope all of you, around the world, have had a wonderful Valentine's Day, full of love.

My husband and I had a quiet Valentine's Day celebration. Karl's been hit by a terrible stomach flu; he's on the mend, but still not quite up to par, so we spent the evening at home. Yet, he still managed to get out of bed early, leaving me slumbering peacefully, to sneak out to buy me a beautiful red rose.

Also, inspired by the etchings and other art prints he's been selling, he made me this beautiful card:



The etching is on 100% rag, acid-free, archival-quality paper, with deckled edges, printed using oil-based ink. You can't see it in the scanned version, but below the picture he hand-wrote, "This print, like you, is one of one. Happy Valentine's Day. Karl Feb 14 2010."

I also made a gift for him, which I haven't scanned. A hand-drawn Valentine's Day picture full of hearts.

Today has been a contemplative day, as the incident yesterday, coupled with posts in a few other journals, triggered some unpleasant memories, some involving past relationships, some involving friendships that continue, but with reservations. (Strangely, it's the latter category that holds more pain for me, now.) Plus, the stories I've been working on recently involve some pretty intense family dramas.

All of this has gotten me thinking about the relationships between love and trust, and love and betrayal, and how that effects writing about characters and the ways they love those around them. Not just couples in love, but also the love that exists between parents and children, between siblings, and between friends. Even the love that some people are capable of feeling for strangers.

( Read more )