The Fourteenth, Part 2

Thursday, Apr. 18, 2002 - 11:30 am
Ap�sl�min ida corbalanyrtne 'ls�o rohl'daathi�m v� nen�a iroyss�rd.

Where did I leave you? With an armful of spider mums, their color a mauve so silvery they almost seem gray, sprawled in a large vase? The Fiend gave me the flowers, last Saturday; he pleased me by remembering I don't like roses. Or I should say, more specifically, I don't like the overworked drudge of the floral industry, the ubiquitous clone: the long-stemmed red rose. To me, two dozen red roses come from a guy who doesn't care, doesn't think, and goes for the easy and the obvious. A single red rose means the same thing, plus he's cheap. Actually, I don't mind cheap, in fact, as a cheapskate myself, I can appreciate cheap, as long as it doesn't come with a lack of imagination.

And if a man gives me ten dozen red roses? Well, I might give him points for enthusiasm. But more likely, I'd let him know, in no uncertain terms, that I would have preferred a $90 gift certificate from Amazon. If that ain't romantic enough for him, he can wrap it around a single red rose.

The mauve spider mums came with gifts. Two new items have been added to my hodgepodge collection of small lidded boxes. One is supposed to be a Russian black lacquer box, but the gaudily painted, botanically incorrect chrysanthemums on the lid look more Mexican than Russian. The other is a round leather box, imprinted in green with a geometric design reminiscent, vaguely, of Mesoamerica, probably intended to be either Aztec or Mayan. It had been a container for coasters, the Fiend is keeping the coasters to use in his art, so he filled the box with Jolly Rancher jelly beans. In the Russian box was a very small book titled Springs of Humor ("A miser and a fat pig will only be of use when dead." "The most important piece of luggage is and remains a joyful heart.") The inscription on the flyleaf read: 'Congratulations! At this very important time for you. Maybe this little book contains some humor which may be helpful for your future. Best wishes! The Stoltzfus Family."

Need I say that the inscription was not in the Fiend's handwriting, and that neither he nor anyone in his family has ever masqueraded as a Stoltzfus? The Fiend's explanation? "It fits in the box. And it only cost 25 cents."

Sigh.

A man after my own heart.

<~>
Ap�sl�min ida corbalan� 'lse nesgla ugar�-cham sa cru ogrulho bat�oltha al�mv�sde.

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