Sweet memories of Valentine’s Day. One of the years before Mike and I lived together, I came into the office to find a bouquet of flowers waiting for me in reception. Several things clued me in that they did not come from a florist, including the preponderance of spider mums and eucalyptus. “Who brought these?” I asked the receptionist. “Some funny-looking man.” Ah, Mike had arranged his own bouquet and driven from the Montrose through rush hour traffic to my office in the Galleria before heading downtown to his job at the Chronicle. Perhaps it was a money-saving measure, but out of all the Valentine’s Day gifts I’ve gotten, that bouquet is at the top of my list.