If floral design were taught in school, I would be in the special education class and require an additional private tutor with visual aids. The words "Are you creative at all?" and "Can you make your fingers into a circle?" might have been spoken to me yesterday.

Um, "Can I make my fingers into a circle?"

I have no words.

In the process of making two bouquets (for tomorrow's half-price, sale rack), the floral designer made six. I may have also been told, in a very kind Midwestern accent:
"Some people just don't get it."


Despite the fact that this was my first attempt at creating a free hand (just consider that for a moment), large bouquet - or any bouquet, period - apparently I should have been doing this with my eyes closed. While reciting the proper Latin names for each flower.
Grown in Wisconsin.
I blame the dang stems - every time I attempted to add a new flower into the mix, I loosened my grip, everything flopped over to one side or slid down into the "circle" and lost its placement. Back to ground zero. Again.

I felt like a kindergartner who arrived at school with her favorite box of Crayolas . . . only to discover everyone else was writing their autobiographies (yup, at age six).
In French.

I will dominate these flowers.

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