Flowers for Sale.

I tend to love anything under the header of “domestic.”  Cooking, baking, folding laundry (not kidding, I’m an amazing folder)–pretty much everything but playing bridge, which my mother tried in vain to teach me (and I always resisted).

This week I tried my hand a flower arranging, inspired by access to a slew of Time Inc. Magazines (the one perk to counter act two months of Sunday’s spent in a sky scraper in Midtown while everyone else has fun) and years of randomly buying fresh flowers from any farmer’s market I stumble upon.

Easy (free) access to Real Simple, Southern Living, Cooking Light left no shortage of reading for the domestically inclined.  Fortunately Real Simple even had a step-by-step and flower identifier.  Lucky me.   And now I want to be a florist (with a bakery), because every time I get into something new I totally decide that’s my vocational calling (and it hardly ever is).


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