tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49675190134421858042011-07-30T21:10:57.001-07:00Casamo &amp; Associateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06304409787675148387noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4967519013442185804.post-53877148251873970302010-01-29T13:26:00.000-08:002010-02-02T14:40:40.056-08:00<div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGWuOnRIgKE/S2Nf0_9jbQI/AAAAAAAAABc/DbmCob1B0w0/s1600-h/cheurb.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 258px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432290939666394370" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KGWuOnRIgKE/S2Nf0_9jbQI/AAAAAAAAABc/DbmCob1B0w0/s400/cheurb.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Georgia', 'serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:85%;" >Every time Valentine's Day rolls around, I promise myself that I will not spend it alone again. But, somehow, I always forget to make plans for romance. </span><br /></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Georgia', 'serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:85%;" ><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Georgia', 'serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" ><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></p><br /><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Georgia', 'serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" ><span style="font-size:85%;">My mind always drifts back to Leroy on Valentine's day. Leroy was a little boy I knew in kindergarten. In those days the boys ran races for me, and I would kiss the winner on the playground. My mother always dressed me in pretty dresses, and curled and styled my long hair. Leroy was not too popular, nor was he a fast runner. He always had a runny nose. He had a pure heart. To gain my favor he brought me a beautiful ring. Not just any ring. It was a <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGWuOnRIgKE/S2ipxS4JXyI/AAAAAAAAABk/NvFUUuQsqyk/s1600-h/Leroy.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 145px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 135px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433779614768520994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KGWuOnRIgKE/S2ipxS4JXyI/AAAAAAAAABk/NvFUUuQsqyk/s400/Leroy.jpg" /></a>white and black pearl ring with diamonds. WOW! As he thrust it at me one day, I allowed him a hug, and then ran home with my “engagement" treasure. I showed it with a child's joy to my mother. She promptly fell to a frantic mood! She seemed angry and upset. She asked </span><span style="font-size:85%;">me where I had gotten the ring. I told her about Leroy. She found his mother's phone number in the school directory and called her. She was so relieved. Leroy had taken her ring to give to me. She thought for sure it had been lost. We both got in trouble. I was in trouble for taking a ring from a boy in kindergarten, and Leroy for taking his mother's ring. Oh, well...young love. I think I will take myself to St. Thomas this Valentine's day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I hear that Spirit Airlines has a good promotion going on!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KGWuOnRIgKE/S2NTUHtk2tI/AAAAAAAAAA8/CpcHp1iEKVw/s1600-h/Leroy.jpg"></a></p></div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4967519013442185804-5387714825187397030?l=casamovalentine.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Casamo &amp; Associateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06304409787675148387noreply@blogger.com0