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I love roses. I love love love roses. I love rose bushes in my garden. The Prison Wall on the north side of our property line is covered with Cecil Brunner bushes to hide the ugly wall. When they bloom I can open my family room window, see all the pink blossoms covering the bushes and smell the perfume in the air. It's awesome. We even have adorable 100 and 150 mL beakers that I use as bud vases for my Cecils and for my regular roses - because my scientist makes sure I have lots of roses in my garden. (We're horrible gardeners by the way, but roses forgive us for that a little bit.)
My wedding was full of roses. Roses in the bouquets, roses in the flower arrangements, roses on the invitations, dried rose petals in the party favors, roses on the cake. When we were in Scottsdale, it was the Rose Spa treatment that I could not resist despite the price tag that begged to be resisted. I love rose smells. I love pretty roses. And I know that flowers die but I don't care, I love to get roses.
Well, that is, I love to get them under certain conditions, of course. I'm cute and perky but I'm a bit discriminating, which is a much better word than picky, don't you think?
1. Where.
The best place to be sent roses is in the most public place possible. This was very handy dandy before the kids were born when I was teaching. Roses should be sent to work whenever possible. And a wise front desk will not SEND them to your office or desk but will call you forward to collect your roses. That way, you get the opportunity to parade your roses in front of as many people as possible and send the message that your man loves you and knows how to appropriately take care of you. When I was teaching this meant carrying them back to my classroom taking the longest route humanly possible to get there, even though there was a year when my classroom was the closest room TO the office.
2. When.
There are a number of wonderful rose giving occasions:
My birthday.
My wedding anniversary.
The anniversary of our first date.
"Thank you for incubating and then birthing a 9.5 pound child without benefit of epidural and thank GOD you're the one doing it and not me and thank you for doing it again (and again) even though you knew what you were getting into after the first one."
"I'm halfway around the world on business and I miss you."
"I'm halfway around the world on business, I miss you and thank you for single-parenting it for the time that I'm gone."
"I'm sorry that the world isn't treating you as well as a woman as cute and perky as you deserves to be treated."
"I'm sorry that the world, and most specifically the children I fathered, are not treating you as well as a woman as cute and perky as you deserves to be treated but boy, do I appreciate you."
"I'm sorry that I was such a thoughtless husband but I recognize that in this case I did not step up to the plate as I should have given my history of being a pretty decent fellow, but I am sure glad you're going to stay married to me anyway." - at this time I would like to say that this is the most rarely used reason for roses in my home. Yes, we have disagreements but they're rarely to the level of necessitating roses and I do not want to come across as one of those women who is always right. I'm rarely wrong but I do not insist upon being right all the time. Only when I'm really really really right. Which is a lot of the time but most of the time we're right together. Ahhhhh, isn't that sweet?
and of course, not often but sometimes....
Just Because.
There are some occasions for which I do NOT want roses:
Valentine's Day: Any old guy can remember to get flowers on Valentine's Day. Really. And the florists take full advantage of that. They drum up prices and the flower growers have to over produce roses in the middle of winter which isn't really the prime flower growing season now, is it? That's right, lower quality, higher prices, no thank you. It's been done. It takes a man in love to remember roses on "Not Valentine's Day."
Mother's Day: See the over priced, lower quality Valentine's Day notices. Plus, I'm not his mother. I DO expect to be treated like a queen on Mother's Day but that's just not a flower day for me. I feel like flowers on that day are sort of like saying "Ok, here's some flowers because I'm SUPPOSED to do this for you." Now, flowers on Mother's Day from someone who has no obligation to send me flowers on Mother's Day would be amazingly sweet. But it just feels a bit lazy coming from the people who are supposed to worship me that day.
By the way, sometimes it's a dozen and sometimes he just stops at the florist on the way home and picks up three. Over the years the meaning of the three has changed. For many years it was One. Then I got pregnant and it was three "You, me and the baby." Then it was "Me and the two boys." Then it was "The three boys." Isn't that convenient? But I like them all just the same. Sometimes I don't want him spending more than that much on flowers for me. Many times, actually.
3. How:
And here, really, is the point to this blog and the connection back to Flower Guy Whose Name I Don't Remember.
Several years ago, when we were first married, Daddy Doc (he may not have even been a Doc back then, but I KNOW he wasn't a Daddy,) was on a business trip and decided to send me roses at work. They came from one of those places that had flowers in its phone number or something. It wasn't from a shop with a name.
The very next day, they were dead.
Now, I realize that flowers DIE, but they don't die the very next day. In fact, a co-worker at the time had put herself through college in the floral industry and agreed with me that they had died inappropriately. She urged me to call and complain because of it. She said that the florist she worked for would replace flowers that died like that because it was just not good customer service, especially for an arrangement at that price point. So I called to report the untimely demise of my roses and the person I spoke to could not have been ruder. "Flowers DIE. It HAPPENS." I said "Yes, I realize that but they are supposed to last longer than one day." She said there was nothing they "could" do about it and DD was informed that he was never again to use that service.
Fortunately, I had a remedy. The PTA moms at our school had sent me some small arrangements on occasion and they were just lovely. It was a florist in the downtown area of that city and I gave their number to DD. From that point on, all my roses came from that florist.
When MG was born, we found out that they did not deliver out to our home. When all your flowers are delivered to work, you don't get that "delivery boundary" memo. DD actually forgot to get me flowers after MG was born. I had to point out to him that what I had just accomplished might be worthy of a little "thank you." (Heavy retrospective sigh.) So he drove out to that florist to pick up the roses for me.
At that time, we started looking for the really good florist in our community. Thanks to a good friend with a lovely first name, we were referred to "The" florist in our city and DD has used them ever since.
A few years ago, on one of those rare occasions when DaddyDoc had to send me a "I'm Sorry I'm a Thoughtless Husband" arrangements, the person who delivered the flowers was not someone I recognized. As I answered the door, he asked "Are you Perky Mommy?" and my answer was "You better be from the City Florist" and he laughed and assured me he was. I explained that was good because if he hadn't been, the kiss up apology wasn't going to work. (Yes, it was rare but boy was he really really wrong on that occasion. I can't even remember why he was wrong, but it was a particularly bad one. I could take a stab in the dark but I'm not telling those stories on this blog. This is going to be a "Those Stories Free Zone.")
I explained to the delivery man that his florist was the ONLY florist that we use because we'd learned our lesson. Once was all it took. He laughed again. (He's a very happy guy.)
Ever since that visit, whenever he comes to bring my bouquets, I answer the door and he says "Hi, Conroy's here!" and then cracks up. He thinks he's so funny. I roll my eyes at him every single time. Then I say "You are NOT Conroy's. Stop it. He knows better."
Last Spring, rather late in the day one day, (it was one of those random "just because times,") the doorbell rang and it was Flower Guy Whose Name I Forgot. I was really surprised because it really was "late" for him. Usually when he comes, he's here in the morning or no later than 2. But this was into the evening. DD was even home from work already. I answered the door and saw the flowers. Then he apologized.
"I'm sorry I'm so late but I wanted to be the one to deliver these to you myself. Whenever your name comes across the desk I try to grab it and put them on my route. I like coming to see you."
Everybody now: Ahhhhhhhhh.
Seriously. I eat this stuff UP. I mean, who wouldn't love to hear that? Sniff. I'm special! I'm a special customer! I gave him a hug.
That was when I asked him for his name. I'm pretty sure he's one of the owners and I could probably call "She Who Has the Awesome Name" because she would probably know his name, knowing her good memory, but I've already forgotten it.
And so that's why I walked up to him in the store today and gave him a hug when I saw him. I actually just put my head on his shoulder and pressed in, but close enough for two people with their hands full. He was full of smiles for me and a laugh or two. He did comment that he hasn't seen me in awhile (we were out of town for our wedding anniversary this year so the Rose Spa treatment acted as my Anniversary Bouquet.)
I told him that my birthday is next month so I'm sure I'll be seeing him in a few weeks!
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