Mirs and I are on our way out. We’re meeting one of her friends downtown to see a RomCom. Mirs’ friend and I love RomComs, Mir does not. I got a promotion at work this week and my lovely girlfriend is amusing me by taking me to the movies, dinner, etc. She even got me flowers; this amazing bouquet that’s totally “me”. ‘Cause she knows me really well.
I think that flowers should be given and received with frequency. I like Just Because flowers and flowers of congratulations. On Valentine’s Day before the plague attacked Mirs we were at Harefield Road, a little bar and brunch place in Williamsburg, waiting for our table. We were sitting at the bar stools looking out onto the street and we watched at least 4 guys walking by with roses in their hands for loved ones. Some had red roses (love) some had pink (friendship) and one had white (purity) I wonder if these guys know the meaning of rose colors or if the women they were intended knew either. I doubt it. I mean, if someone who I love presented me with pink or yellow roses I’d be pissed. First pissed that they weren’t red and second that they brought me roses. I know they’re expensive and all and smell like, well, roses but can you be more generic?
Roses take absolutely no thought, they’re not creative and they’re the go-to flower for the sake of flower giving. I may be just a crazy girl who doesn’t appreciate flowers when they’re given to me, but everyone that I know knows that if you’re gonna bring me flowers, I’ll reject the roses.
The bouquet Mirs got me can’t be identified by me, I’m sure a flower connoisseur could, but I cannot. I just know that I like them. They’re mostly greens, like branches from an evergreen with small pink buds and leaves that look like bay leaves. There’s one statement tropical-looking bloom at the center of a bunch that’s mostly green. They smell good; fresh. And they have personality. And, they are not roses.
in other news, I called my father and my sister yesterday and those blogs need some thinking through before I can post.