JOY ALONG THE WAY: CELEBRATING VALENTINE'S DAY ALONE

Do I expect a box of candy Tuesday? No. A dozen red roses? No. A big, lacy, honeycombed tissue paper decorated valentine? No. Do I even expect to take notice of Valentine's Day? Yes!

In non-exciting February when the window curtains hang a little limp and the green grass of the lawn is splotched with great areas of light tan, it is good to celebrate a crisp red and white semi-holiday, even if one does it by him-herself (That is my solution to the longer form of himself or herself. Saves typewriter ribbon!).

But, I digress. Valentine's Day. How shall I celebrate it? My plans are under way. I have already found my heart-shaped cake pan. It wasn't easy.

When I have finished with seasonal things, they go to a place loosely known as storage areas. These vacillating, generally undefined areas can be almost spotted somewhere upstairs, in the basement, garage or under the red room that was once a porch.

Common sense told me the heart-shaped cake pan would be in the basement, somewhere on the shelves that hold a number of things that were once useful, are still useful or may be useful in the future.

It is easy to get distracted when searching among the contents of the shelves. Look, here are the little, individual, brown, glazed, baked bean pots I searched for last autumn when I was having a formal New England dinner. There should be eight of them. One, two, three. . .Oh, here's the corkscrew. No wonder I couldn't find it last New Year's. Electric skillet, old toaster, painted and repaired wren houses just waiting, broken-legged big coffee maker, extra shingles to repair a roof that was put on twenty or thirty years ago, all were pushed aside or stacked on top of things in my search.

I had to pause momentarily on account of octogenarian disease to think what it was I was searching for.

Underneath an array of cookie tins, some plastic food storage containers, nest of wooden cannister boxes, I found my valentine pan.

Washed in soapy warm suds, rinsed, dried and set on the kitchen table, the one layer pan awaits some kind of batter.

Same old red-colored batter? No. I'm going to attempt a striped cake. Gonna put some one and a half inch, cardboard strips across the pan, cutting them so they will fit tight. About eight of 'em. Color half the batter red, leave other half white. Spoon in a strip of white, a strip of red, a strip of white and so on. Tenderly remove the cardboard strips. Bake.

Whipped cream cheese and Cool Whip all stuck up with feathery coconut will be the overcoat. I'm tired of candied cherries spelling out "Luv," "Love" or "Luv you." I've done that. Store the sentiment.

This cake will probably be eaten by only me. So, what message? I've some red hots left over from Christmas. I can make words with them. "Enjoy?" "25 calories?" I could make the red hots say, "Gee whiz, why don't you get things in order?" No, I can't either. I haven't that many red hots.

Everyone should give me his-her (another ribbon saver) suggestion.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.