People who know me would probably classify me as a straight-up tomboy, so it often surprises them when I can do ’50s housewife stuff like sewing and ironing and wearing the heck out of a flowery dress.
(Sidenote: I probably offended every ’50s housewife and flowery-dress-wearer in the world with that one.)
I feel like arranging flowers is a similar type of skill. One of those things you can mention at parties and be like “Oh, no, you must never mix daffodils and roses.”
Is that a thing? I don’t even know.
Anywho, when one of my coworkers was lamenting her task of making 17 floral centerpieces this weekend, another coworker and I decided to volunteer for Plant Patrol.
Unfortunately, I don’t have pictures of the process, but here’s the result:
There are tulips and mums and carnations and…others. I guess the only thing I really learned was that you should do whatever looks nice. As with lots of stuff in life, going with your gut is key. (Am I upsetting florists with that comment? Just angering everyone today.)
Oh, I also learned that daffodils are poisonous. So there’s that.
But it was fun! There was a lot of cutting. My scissor hand got a workout. And I was paid in flowers, so that was good too.
Is it time to replace my silk flowers with actual ones? Probably not. Still pretty sure I couldn’t keep a plant alive to save my soul.