Groundhog Day is the most romantic holiday ever

February 2 is Groundhog Day. For most people, this is a day where you watch a middle-aged guy in tails and tophat grab some poor, confused fat rodent from his den and expose him to the glare of cameras for the sole purpose of predicting how much winter is left.  This is of course, pointless, as winter in Pennsylvania is most assuredly going to last another six weeks.

I always root for the groundhog to bite his handler.

On the heels of Groundog Day is Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s is a made-up holiday which exists for the sole purpose of selling cards, chocolates and flowers in the dead of winter when there is otherwise no compelling reason for anyone to buy roses, chocolate or greeting cards. Troy and I do not do Valentine’s Day. Instead, we celebrate Groundhog Day. What could possibly be more evocative of enduring love than a holiday which elevates a rodent to national prominence?

The Harrison household is not rife with sentimentality or overwrought declarations of undying love. That’s not our style.  We don’t hold hands or write poems or anything of the sort.  When Troy was heading off to surgery and they had drugged him to the gills, the nurse asked him if he wanted to kiss me before he was wheeled off and he looked at her all horrified and said, “No, we’re married.”  Ah, the romance.

I may not get jewels, flowers or chocolates on Groundhog Day (or any other day for that matter), but I have something much better. For those who think Troy has no romance in his soul, they are mistaken.  The flower triptych is the most romantic set of drawings ever done, and they were drawn for me. He had me at Rotten Day.



He’s deranged, but he’s perfect for me. Happy Groundhog Day to everyone.