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I am a born romantic. Really. But Valentine’s Day in February just pisses me off. Honestly, I just want to be left alone in February. February is the month that, having accumulated an extra layer of fat during the holidays, I just want to hibernate. In fact, I think that winter, as a whole, is totally overrated. Sure, if you happen to have snow it’s pretty to look at, some people even like to play in it, but when it’s cold outside you can bet I’ll be inside all bundled up. In fact, in the wintertime in my neck of the woods, shaved legs are optional while flannel nightgowns and Cuddle Duds are mandatory. And though the surge of vampire romances has made winter white skin more palatable, I still yearn for my summer glow. In fact, I yearn for summer itself. Give me warm sun, bare skin, and a Colada on a beach any day. Now that’s the setting for romance. So, I’ll just be moving my Valentine’s Day to June, thank you very much. Now… if I can just get my husband to quit chasing me around chanting, “When the frost is on the punkin’…”

–sheril
sheril.turner@skirt.com