I don't mean to be a jerk, but if you send me roses (unless they are organic, of course), you lack imagination. If they are in a decorative basket that I should later use for serving bread, it becomes even more apparent that you have NO IDEA what you are doing.
And if - god forbid - there is any sort of stuffed animal anywhere near said arrangement, you can pretty much guarantee that ours will be a short-lived affair.
(In the interests of full disclosure, I got precisely that arrangement once. I stayed with that guy for three years. This was a serious lapse in judgment. I shoulda taken my cue from the flowers. Oh - the meaning was right - the guy just wasn't).
Life used to be a bit more simple by being somewhat more complex. In Victorian times, the kinds of flowers you sent were a code to your feelings.
So if you are feeling a bit coy, here's a nice little key to help you decide really what kind of (organic) flowers you want to send this holiday: http://www.victorianbazaar.com/meanings.html. (Apologies for the fact that the background looks like someone vomited flowers all over your screen - this site makes the Unicorn Tapestries look naked and unadorned).
So, check it out, and you can see why - this year - I prefer receiving pansies to roses, and hope never to receive rhododendrons as a gift.
-Heather... off to rifle through old love letters...
Posted by: sara | February 09, 2006 at 08:39 AM