Fri 1 Jul 2005
My b-day flowers are beautiful, blossoming, and fragrant. These photos (taken with my dinky cameraphone) really don’t do the bouquet justice, because from where I’m looking at the actual thing it’s clear there are 25 roses 2 feet tall. It’s hard to believe that when they came, they were this little scrunched up pile of buds in a tight rectangular box. I remember Grace’s wedding florist, Ernie, telling me “When roses are given in love, they’ll bloom. When they’re not, they’ll stay budded and wilt as buds.” I used to have all my roses wilt in buds. I guess Vicky and Peter really love me.
Yes, we do! When are we going to Glen Ivy?
Anytime after this weekend! Let’s book some service first. Check http://www.glenivy.com.
You know, I don’t see a picture of the flowers. Can you email me one or something?
Try right-clicking on the square where the photo is supposed to be, and drag down to “Show Picture.” I’ll email you photos anyway.
[…] As I was leaving to go to work this morning, I walked by the bouquet of flowers and thought, “There’s yoga class tonight, so I won’t be around to enjoy these until tomorrow morning for a few minutes, and then I’m gone for the weekend again.” So I decided to bring them to work with me so I can have a full 2 workdays with them. The ceramic vase I’d put the flowers in has a vertical crack down the side, so water was slowly leaking. I planned to change them into one of a few glass vases I had in the courtroom. I put the flowers to the side on my file cabinet as we did a hearing on a criminal case that was returning today for sentencing. The defendant, who was in custody, decided his attorney was “railroading” him and had a fit, cussing and trying to stand to leave the courtroom, not shutting up or settling down so that we could resume sentencing. 15 sheriffs in our courtroom (2 with stun guns) later, this defendant was escorted out of the courtroom and we sentenced him without his being present. It was downhill from there for the rest of the morning. I selected the beautiful cylindrical frosted glass vase that Vicky had sent me flowers in for my bday last year, and looked around for the packet of flower food I’d brought. I could not find it; it’d vaporized sometime during the morning struggle. I ignored that BIG HINT from fate. I had a spare packet from a previous bouquet, so I took the vase to fill with room temperature water (as directed on the printed instructions on the packet) in the bathroom sink. The sink was too small for the vase and it was not gonna fill sideways, so after making a slight mess in the hallway restroom, I took the vase into the jury room restroom to fill. The vase fit in the sink albeit at an angle, but after I filled as much as I could, the vase would not come out of the sink. I pulled, rolled, manipulated as best I could, and called my court reporter to help. She put soap on the rim where it was making contact with the sink edge, couldn’t get it out. We called our bailiff. He couldn’t do it, either. “I can’t just leave it here for now,” I said, “They just sent us another trial. We’re gonna have jurors using this restroom!” Finally, with a clink, my bailiff broke the vase, and we took the pieces out. =( I got another less exotic vase and rinsed that over the water fountain at the back of the courtroom. Water spilled out of the shallow metal fountain bowl and spilled all over the ground. I sighed and got a bunch of napkins to put on the floor. I adjusted the angle of the vase, and the new angle made water trickle out the side and onto my skirt. Another puddle on the floor. I cleaned that up. The angle wasn’t vertical enough to fill the vase and neither was another water fountain I tried after that, so I finally got smart and filled my water bottle with sink water and poured that into the vase. The flowers beautifully displayed in a clear vase, I went to rinse out the cracked vase in the hallway bathroom sink, and in pouring out the brown-green water in the vase, a wave of it skipped over the sink water’s surface, flew out of the sink and landed right on my skirt. I sighed. What next? Was I gonna slip on a puddle or get hit by a car on the way home? What a bad plant day. […]