Thursday, October 4, 2007
No, I'm not dead, but if I were, the funeral flowers would be gawgeous...
If my posting and other communications have been sparse lately, it is due to these little beauties. And these:
And also the one frillion of these:
My sister-in-law, Kari, is getting married this Friday, so that means things have been not just our usual kind of crazy but WEDDING crazy, the most potent flavor of crazy know to (wo)mankind. (Except for syphilis-induced crazy, maybe. And I do mean maybe.)
So there have been tissue flowers and paper lanterns and invitations and programs and ribbon-tied sparklers and candles and now fresh flowers pouring in and out of our little house.
In a fit of self-confidence, I volunteered to do the flowers for the wedding party. It seemed pretty simple in my pin-head at the time. I ordered a giant box of grower-direct flowers, bought some ribbon, floral tape, and wire, and promptly stopped thinking about it, instead using that excess brain power for thinking about, say, pumpkin bread recipes and Britney Spears.
But the day of reckoning has come, and the giant boxes of flowers, along with irritatingly complex instructions for their care over the next three days, arrived on my doorstep today. And then came the cutting and the de-leafing and de-thorning and distilled spring water in clean containers and the whispering of sweet nothings to flowers. And our house, which is neither too warm, nor too cool, nor too dry, nor too drafty FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LOOK OUT FOR THE DRAFTS, is filled with containers of roses and lilies just waiting to be assembled into lovely (or serviceable) bouquets, boutonnières, and corsages on Friday morning. (An aside: did you know that putting fresh flowers in a refrigerator with fruits and vegetables will poison the flowers and kill the flowers and make everyone hate you and wish they hadn't agreed to you being in charge of their wedding flowers? It will. The instructions say so.)
We'll see. I had a nightmare last night that I couldn't stop winding and winding the floral tape and the corsages were the size of Easter hams and everyone at the wedding was looking at me and clutching their pearls and saying, "You can't pin THAT to a dress!" So, I'm going to take that as a cautionary tale courtesy of my subconscious and shoot for corsages the size of Cornish game hens. Or guinea pigs. Possibly gerbils.
I'll muddle through. I have a lovely cheering section that stays pretty supportive if I keep throwing bananas at it.