"Honey, you're like a Mack truck"

Twenty four years ago today on our first Valentine's Day as a "sort-of-together" couple (depending on whom you asked), my then-boyfriend, now husband delivered his first Valentine's card to me. It was at my sorority house. I came home from my classes that day, opened the enormous glass front doors and gazed over all the over-the-top display of collegiate love on the entry table. Dozens of roses, balloon bouquets, huge boxes of heart-shaped chocolates...and a little white envelope, kinda crumpled and lonely at the end of the table. It had a name on it close to mine, but not my name. My name is Pamela. This card was going to someone named "Pamala".

Could it possibly be after knowing him for an entire year he didn't know how to spell my name? That was  only the start of it. Opening the card ... things just got worse. The front of the card -- which I know I do have somewhere in the house but am too busy prepping crap for three elementary school parties today to bother to look for it -- showed a cartoon drawing of a large, roaring truck with a toothy grin with the words, "Honey, you're like a Mack truck" ... the inside verse I never can remember quite right because by then my sorority sisters were reading over my shoulder and my head was hot and buzzing with embarrassment at his awkward display of affection. It said something like " your sturdy, dependable and blah, blah, blah."

It was an unromantic beginning to say the least, and I'm sorry to say that all these years later he still really sucks at remembering people's names (and now as a CEO this is not just an endearing quirk but a notorious flaw). However his capacity for romance, as well as his spelling, has improved considerably.

All this came back to me today as I waited in line at Starbucks with all the other coffee sheep to receive my latte before heading into a marathon of Valentine's Day parties at my three children's elementary school classrooms. And although the barista definitely called out my name correctly when my order was ready to go - the writing on the cup said it all. Pamala.  OK, I had spelled it for the cashier. I come here everyday. The barista is from Peru (I know this because we speak often) and he knows me. He speaks Spanish. Pamela is a common name and familiar pronunciation to Spanish speakers. And yet, Pamala. Now let me see... when was the last time I saw my name spelled like that on Valentine's Day ....

So, the point is, today I forgave my husband for the infamous first card more than two decades ago.  In fact, that Starbucks cup - along with a tiny orchid which I planted inside - became his Valentine's Day gift from me today (see photo).  He saw it, and knew exactly why I presented it to him. No explanation necessary because, after twenty four years of togetherness, 16 years of marriage and 10 years of raising kids ... who cares about spelling in a household where the words "I love you" are spoken daily.