The flowers in my kitchen are amazing.
Roses, chrysanthemums, lilies, gerbera daisies, statice. Red roses, pink roses, salmon-brown autumn-colored roses.
Yup, it looks a little like a funeral parlor (is that what they’re called these days?). But people are kind. They so want this to not be, and if it must be, to help soften the truckload of bricks that are tumbling onto our hearts and lives. It’s just a little creepy, because you don’t sent a magnificent flower arrangement when someone has menstrual cramps. But they love me.
The absolute zenith, though, was an edible arrangement a friend from work sent to my office. It was a collection of pineapple “flowers” dipped halfway in chocolate, with cantaloupe-ball stamens, purple-grape accents. Breathtaking. Yummy. Its beauty and chocolaty-fruity perfume beckoned co-workers into my office to munch on the flowers and visit. What a cheerful thing to do!
I brought a few stems home so Jerry could share, and here’s where things got silly. I looked at the perfect slimy roundness of a cantaloupe ball, and must have been overcome by an evil spirit. Really. I popped it into a specimen cup, snapped a photo, and emailed it all around with the warning that “the photo may not be for everyone, but if you’re interested in what a lump looks like, here’s your chance.”
Jerry and I laughed ourselves sick. Some were suckered in so fast they never saw it coming. Others were a bit more skeptical, but who calls BS on a woman with breast cancer?
In my own defense, it genuinely was a lump. A lump of fruit. I confessed and apologized, sort of, the next day, but the now the universe is lopsided in the payback department. This is the collection of family and friends who remember forever. Retribution is coming.
Bwa ha ha ha… I love being me. Just wish it didn’t involve cancer.