These florists, man…I tell ya.  They’re molesting my savings account.  Like in the bad-touch, swimsuit area.  Oy with the bad joke there.

I went to another florist whose quote was about half what the other florist quoted me, but was still over my limit (does that give you an indication of what the first florist quoted me?)  Pretty much 3 hydrangeas on the table and a bunch of sticks (or “eye-pokers” if you speak Tony-language) will set me back the equivalent of my firstborn.  And actually, I’ll give you my first child if you’d just take 10% off, already.  Seriously.  No monkey business here. 

I can’t guarantee a 36 ACT score, but damnit if he won’t be pretty, darn adorable.

I stressed and bitched and complained to Tony and…his idea?  Wait, let me put it in the actual words that came out of his mouth, because sometimes we’re all comedians and don’t even know it:

“Ok, I have an idea.  Let’s make fake icebergs that will float around in this (pointing to a square vase in Michael’s).  It’s kind of a winter theme.  And then we’ll add a candle in the middle so it won’t look tacky.”

At least I think that’s what he said because I started to get really confused when he was talking about making icebergs.  Something, something, dry-ice, wha?

Really.  Your guess is as good as mine.

I’m a little nervous about marrying a man with such high-class taste.  Between rice krispie treat wedding cakes and the couture fashion bandana he’s always sporting, I’m not sure I’m up to the challenge.  And then throwing in another curve ball like floating icebergs…

Want to talk about a different topic than flowers?  Me, too.  Guess where we’re going on Sunday?  We’re meeting with a bakery.  I’m totally excited to talk about the design.  Tony’s totally excited for the free tasting.  Win-win all around.  And if they charge as much as the florists, I’m throwing in the towel, you guys.  I’ll call you from Vegas on December 4th and let you know how the Celine concert is going.