Food and Life and Death on Valentine's Day

I'm not very into Valentine's Day—cheesy, contrived romantic gestures don't appeal to me much. But I'm not sure if I can say the same for the person I'm dating, because though he claims his freethinkingness as a central tenet of his personality, he's about the cheesiest gift-giver on holidays . . . which, if I'm going to be honest with myself, melts my cold, dead heart.

Since we're both poor, busy college students, our gifts are somewhat on the scrappy side, which isn't to say that they lack heart. He tried setting up this elaborate surprise breakfast for me, which I ruined by pestering him with details like "what are we doing for Valentine's Day" and "should I bring food" and "why are you avoiding all my questions about planning and food." It still did happen, but it wasn't too much of a surprise.

His name is Brett, née Leonitus.

The scrambled eggs were moist and tossed with Sriracha, and the pancakes were excessively sugary with chocolate chips both in and on top of the pancakes, and he had plenty of syrup. (I love sugar and Sriracha. HE KNOWS ME SO WELL.)

I believe all the animals are taxidermy'd, which make the whole museum kind of creepy in their elaborate, expressive poses and settings for long-dead animals.

After breakfast, though we both had hours of homework to look forward to, we visited the Bell Museum of Natural History, which is I believe on the University of Minnesota campus. It's free for UMN students, so I brought money to pay since I don't go there, but a lady let us in because she thought I was a UMN student. I didn't complain. Free animals and space—score.

He refused to pose for any of my photos :(

My favorite part of the museum, other than the little space section, was a room dedicated to tactile experiences with natural history. There were kids running around and parents sleeping on the ground (no lie), and they had a bunch of rocks and skulls and bones and furs and skins on display. I really like touching things to learn about them, because I am a five-year-old who doesn't understand object permanence. 

There was a huge cabinet full of death-related ephemera, like little animal skulls and dead coral. It inspired me to one day have a similar cabinet of dead animal-related ephemera in my own home. I've already got a little fetal pig in a jar that I've kept on my dresser since my junior year of high school, so . . . you could say that I'm cultivating a collection.

I also have a bunch of old rocks and shells that I collect for no reason at all, and this brought back memories of my childhood when I was an even worse hoarder than I am now.

Apparently, the mythos of the cyclops comes from the Greeks' discovery of mammoth skulls.

A turtle shell—felt like cured leather.

He is pretending to be a bear.

I made him a card and whatever. It was pretty romantic.