Missed Opportunities

First of all, Happy Belated Feast of Saint Valentine.  Being in a relationship on such a day essentially means that I have my right to complain about V-Day revoked by literally everyone else, so I won't give my usual rant about Hallmark-induced consumerism.

Sorry to be one of those people, but my day was great.  I came home to find a package at my door containing this:

Which in turn led to this:

Which is probably the most likes that I have received for anything, ever.


Gloating and hidden wrath aside, I will mention one thing:  Why hasn't anyone ever mentioned the fact that Valentine's is, in fact, the middle of February, and is therefore the Ides of February (give or take a few hours)?  Are we all too busy, looking for the perfect gift or getting on our soapbox about slave-labor chocolate to notice?  Because really, I think we have all missed out on a golden opportunity here:

Oh, yes, my faithful readers.  You can bet your sweet tookus that you will be getting that card in the mail next year. 

Speaking of missed opportunities...

It should come as no surprise that I am, or was, an avid reader.  I actually did a small jig of glee when I finally got my library card from the local library last month, because that is the kind of person I am.  Anyway, on a recent jaunt, I picked up Fire Bringer, which I am ashamed to say I am now just reading for the first time (it was very popular at my elementary school when it first came out).  I asked Gwen what I could expect, and it was more or less described to me as a better written, more sympathetic version of Watership Down.

... Sigh.

I don't know how the rest of the world feels about WD, but having read it in 8th grade as part of the assigned reading, the fact that it was a metaphor for different government/social constructs went directly over my head.  Sure, I was generally an astute kid, but at the age of 14, allegory was one of those things you really had to spell out.  To me, it was just a book about some bunnies trying to find some female bunnies for baby-bunny making.  Surprise, surprise.   Rabbits wanting to bump uglies.  That's about all I remember.  I had to wiki the rest.  Heck, I remember the plot to Lyddie better than I do WD.

With all the excitement of drying glue

What I do remember is that it includes a psychic rabbit named Fiver and a soldier-rabbit named Bigwig (for the giant tuft on his head), which literally makes no sense, as rabbits would have no concept of removable fur.  Other than that, I vaguely recall something that was supposed to be an epic battle of the good rabbits, lead by Che Gue-hare-a, versus the evil, bite-branding Stalin Bunnies.

...Actually, no.  That's the book I wish I read.  If Jenny Craig (yes, that was my teacher's name.  No, she didn't start the diet fad.  No, they weren't related.) had told me that I was going to be reading a daring tale of Che Gueharea outwitting Stalin Bunny, I would NOT have been able to put that s*** down, badly written or no.

In fact.

Dear Lionville Middle School,

I will largely remember you as being home to some of the worst years of my life (fear not - the winner of that title goes to junior year of high school), punctuated by awkward tweenie-bopper dances, puberty, and the first time that I realized that school architecture was highly reminiscent of that of a penitentiary.

In the end, I forgive you for most of those things, because that wasn't really your doing.  No harm, no foul.  Besides, it was in middle school that I learned most of my standard lexicon.  Plus, no one ever seemed to notice that I used the same month-old hall pass to leave the cafeteria, every day.

Even so, I feel that it is my duty to tell you that you dropped the ball on this one.  It was your job to string me along like the impressionable tween that I was and make things as interesting as humanly possible.  Instead, all you gave me were some vocab lists and a poster design assignment about grim-reaper bunny?

Seriously, guys.  You passed up on this:

 And this:

They might have been up there in the ranks with Chairman Meow.  It could have been a thing.  But no.  I shake my head in shame for you, LMS.

Regards,
Victoria

P.S.  Tell Mme. Moll that I said Bonjour.

P.P.S.  I did actually finish Fire Bringer, and it was nearly exactly like WD, only better written and with one distinct difference:

DEER MOSES.

LET MY HERLA GO.

'Til the next.