As some of you might recall, this time last year I was blathering about cubic zirconias and fried chicken, as I’m wont to do throughout the year but particularly on our most romantic holidays (Valentine’s Day, Koninginnedag, Polish Independence Day, all the usual suspects).

This year I’ll be blathering alarmingly gooey “No, I love you more” stuff to the woman who has kept me away from this blog for months and months — an act of charity toward the Internet that reportedly has her in the running for a Nobel Peace Prize — but I wanted to dust off the old keyboard long enough to wish you all a Happy Valentine’s Day. And a special Happy Valentine’s Day to the mysterious Ms. Aarons (if that is your real name): You set my heart ablaze like Connie Stevens’ flaming baby “brother” in Susan Slade, dear, and I love you madly.

The plastic baby was a better, more emotive actor than Troy Donahue.

(Told you I’d find a way to post that screencap!)

(P.S. No babies were harmed in the making of Susan Slade, only the dignity of Connie Stevens and Dorothy McGuire.)