Little one and I made 32 valentines for her classmates the other night, and nearly burned down the house. As I was cutting the valentines, and gluing different colored versions together, as per her instructions, the tissue paper suddenly caught fire with a burning candle flame that had flared up. I grabbed the smouldering stack of multicolored construction paper and threw it in the kitchen sink, after stomping on it. We were both frightened by the swiftness of the flames -and the combustibility of the tissue paper. After that, little one decided to blow out another candle, which was burning quietly on a corner table. As we met for our regular weekend lunch date on Saturday, my dear friend, Lady E., wondered if the fire was a warning. Her comment is well-taken. Love and passion, like fire - have a way of burning out of control and then subsiding, sometimes into ashes. The prior evening, during good food and conversation,(part of her weekly Friday evening dinner with friends at home), Big Daughter inadvertently said "I wouldn't want to be without a valentine on Valentine's Day. As her long-time friend Ms. R winced, Big Daughter started laughing, after I observed that I was none for the worse as the day approached. Of course, on Saturday afternoon, Big Daughter presented me with a beautiful, and delicate silver ring inscribed with tiny black diamonds. At Christmas, I had swooned over a stunning ring with black diamonds given to Lady L., a dear friend, and the elegant mother of little one's best friend, by her husband, Sir M. Big Daughter remembered how much I loved that ring. I was thinking about my valentines this past weekend. Big Daughter and Little one of course, but also the myriad friends and varied joys I have in my life. Another dear friend, Lady S., had commiserated with me about the making of valentines. She observed that in the preparations, Valentine's Day is not always so sweet. Lady S. also had the dubious honor of making 32 valentines with her sweet 7-year-old. We compared notes. By the 25th valentine, both of our daughters became tired and asked us to write the word "valentine," for them. Despite their weariness, Lady S. and I were touched by their sense of fairness. When we began to waver, after cutting out so many hearts, they insisted that each kid in their class receive a card. Earlier on Friday, I stopped in at Bond Street Chocolate, 63 E. 4th Street, between Second and Third Avenues, to buy a chocolate Jesus Christ for Big Daughter, along with four chocolate skulls, one chocolate Ganesh for Lady S, and little printed chocolates for little one. At the request of little one, I picked up a mix of four bonbons for Carl. I reminded her that "daddy doesn't always like gifts." Little one confidently said "he will from me," and she was right. A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Lynda Stern, the very cool proprietress of Bond Street Chocolates, when I stopped in to check out her beautiful store. We ended up talking about kids and motherhood, and I brought home some amazing chocolate toffees. They disappeared that same afternoon. Big Daughter, her boyfriend, Young Sir. C, and little one, pretty much inhaled them. The Friday before Valentine's Day, I was happy to see customers buying large boxes of bonbons and other chocolates. Ms. Stern was cool and collected, despite negotiating a delay for an order of additional gift boxes, and needing to replenish some of her offerings. In this uncertain economic climate, it is comforting to see a new business thriving. It was also sweet to see that Young Sir C., and Big Daughter both purchased gifts for the other at Tiffany's. Despite a minor upset due to miscommunication, they made it to Valentine's Day. Young Sir C. narrowly avoided the doghouse. I threatened Big Daughter with puppy biscuits with Valium in them, after she tossed his Valentine gift at him. I was on my way to collect Minnie, our Himalayan Persian cat, from the very loving, pet groomers at Puppy Love and Kitty Kat, 420 E. 9th between First Avenue and Avenue A. I was afraid they'd report me to the ASPCA, because Minnie was so matted. I'd cut some large sections of matted fur off, leaving her looking slightly grotesque. After we moved to the E. Village, Minnie hid behind a closet for awhile. When she emerged, Gigi, the dog, was a little too loving -and she continued hiding. I also fell off the wagon with her daily grooming. Minnie came home looking like a gorgeous little lion. Later, I went to collect little one from Carl. We decided to have dinner at Sharaku, a good, reliable Japanese restaurant at 14 Stuyvesant Street, actually 9th street, between 2nd and 3rd Avenues. When I arrived, little one handed me a big pink stuffed rabbit and a box of German-made cookies, along with a beautiful bouquet of pink and white roses. She excitedly showed me a purple, stuffed rabbit and cookies for her sister, and loved the chocolates for Carl.