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The Incompetent Romantic: Adventures in Not-So-Victorian Mississippi - Salvador Dali in a lawn chair.
I'm invisible without 3D glasses.
lost_angel
lost_angel
The Incompetent Romantic: Adventures in Not-So-Victorian Mississippi
On Valentine's Day this year, zordac bought me flowers for the first time, ever. I don't remember exactly what they looked like, but I remember their being beautiful, truly. I was very impressed that he'd made such a tasteful selection.

I think they were tulips.

It's kinda sad that I can remember how overjoyed I was to get them but remember nothing of what they actually looked like.

So delighted was I to receive those flowers that I decided to press them as a keepsake. Surely I would one day gaze back on these with clouded yet cherished memory.

After a week or so of defending them from Sebastian, I took three blossoms, each of a different color and perfectly shaped, stem and all, and, in lieu of having any wax paper, folded a sheet of aluminum foil and lay the whole device between the pages of a stout old accounting textbook at the bottom of a hip-high pile in the office where the last rung of the bookshelf had broken.

I shoulda just taken a picture instead.

Five months and one repaired bookshelf later, I was stacking the books back in their original places and came upon ye olde accounting book with a tongue of shiny aluminum foil sticking out, the seed of my previous romantic endeavor. Eager to reap my new memoir from its paged furrow, I slapped the book on the desk then gently turned chunks of pages, nearing my prize.

I shoulda known something was wrong by the way it smelled.

I smelled it before I saw it, a rotten food, oily odor. By the time I got to the foil itself, the pages were sticking together and I had to peel the aluminum away from the rest of the book.

Inside it was all grey: wet, sticky and smelly grey. Instead of delicate, paper-thin flowers in soft pinks and violets whispering "romance" with their faint fragrance, I got a murky, bubbling cauldron of love. The flowers were still flower-shaped, mostly, but it was obvious this ain't goin' in nobody's scrapbook.

I balled the whole thing up and took it outside to throw away and went back inside to hunt for a pair of scissors. I returned quickly to cut the page edges out of the accounting book. The only thing lost were some definitions, chapter descriptions, and practice tests.

It reminds me of the time I left a bag of bird seed for spell packets under my dorm bed for a month while shacking up with Rickwood and came back to find a whole colony of tiny moths nesting in my bedding, hanging clothes and even my computer case.

I somehow manage to decimate plants but cultivate insects. It's a gift, really.

mood: amused amused
music: Air French Band - "Talisman" (<3 this song, need more AFB!)

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Comments
From: navydave Date: June 29th, 2004 06:56 am (UTC) (link)
a murky, bubbling cauldron of love
This made me laugh. :)

From: navydave Date: June 29th, 2004 07:06 am (UTC) (link)
Oh, and I think perhaps flowers must be dried a bit before pressing? Had a friend in Ohio years ago that had dried/pressed flowers everywhere. She would hang them upside down to dry somewhere for a while before she did anything else with them.
lost_angel From: lost_angel Date: June 29th, 2004 08:42 am (UTC) (link)
Probably so. I managed to succeed in pressing some flowers once or twice when I was younger, and I don't remember it being this difficult or the results quite so gooey.

I guess it's kinda like wanting to press a peanut-butter-and-jelly sammich. You've gotta let it get all dessicated first before you shove it between the couch cushions.
wyldkyss From: wyldkyss Date: June 29th, 2004 07:04 am (UTC) (link)
Oh dear. I suppose it's good that you found it now instead of even later.
lost_angel From: lost_angel Date: June 29th, 2004 08:48 am (UTC) (link)
Like stepping on an Easter egg two years after it was hidden.

::shivver::
5 Voices in a Chorus | Lift Your Voice Aloft