Roses

I was at work yesterday and our delivery person came in with a box of flowers for me. I said, "Who's it from?" "Dunno, but there's a note," she says, trotting off. I thought perhaps this coworker of mine down the hall, since she loves flowers and had remembered my birthday with some a few years back. But nope. It was Dale. Quoteth his noteth: "For my beloved future wife on her 30th birthday." (And some other stuff, but it's too mushy and personal for me to type out... I'll start sniffling again.) I became a "typical woman" for a few moments and swooned and sniffled and wiped a tear from my eye and sniffed the roses and wished I knew what the heck I was supposed to do with them. Then I realized someone might see me acting all "foolish" and so I put them away so I could return to work.

Didn't know Dale would ever send me flowers... but then, he does seem a bit traditional in some ways.

Later on, I saw the delivery person again and she says, "So who were they from?" "My fiancé," I replied, grinning ear to ear. "Ut oh. What did he do?" "Huh? Oh! Nothing," I replied, still smiling. "It's my birthday." "Oh! Well, happy birthday!" "Thanks... actually, he doesn't 'do' anything anyway... he's one of those 'good' ones." "Oh, that's good," she says. "Yeah... we're pretty much on the same page."

Smiling inwardly to myself, I ambled off, and proceeded to screw up at least four things last night. And even though I felt pretty stupid each time, I have to say that pixel dust happens and holding myself to the standards I normally do simply does not apply on my birthday... especially when it's been a particularly busy evening.

So there, parent tapes.

Incidentally, I did later have the presence of mind to put the flowers in a vase provided me by a nearby coworker. Thankfully, too, there was a little package of bleachy-smelling stuff that had instructions for "flower food." The roses are now sitting happily upon our kitchen counter, lighting up a common area of our place which quite frankly, wears the presence of flowers quite well.

This is, by golly, the first time I've ever received roses. I'd always been happy that no one thought I was worth killing poor innocent roses over. Much prefer seeing them alive and well in their natural habitats. So I'm genuinely surprised that I appreciate these so much. But, I've reasoned this out in my head thusly: I failed to notice that flowers die after they bloom, anyway. So if they make someone's life happier by blooming in the house whilst in a vase of bleachy water, so be it. Besides, I love Dale, and he loves me, and I /know/ it. So if he wants to send me roses for my birthday, I love him all the better for it.

Perty little buggers, too. I'll attach a picture. :)

~whit