I know I have mentioned in the past that at one time I was a special events florist. I owned a company in Houston. I called the post Working and Breathing or some such thing and it was an appropriate title.

I'm one of those people who has to be working.
HARD.
I get bored when things get too routine or offer no challenge.

Floral work was great because a bride was rarely unchallenging, nor was her venue, her other contractors or the inevitable planner whether hired or self proclaimed--every single family has at least one obnoxious aunt or second cousin...it's a rule.

Still I loved the ebb and flow of the week.

By Wednesday floral would come in to be processed and fussed over.
By Thursday I was assigning tasks and making sure my arrangers were copying my designs well.
By Friday things were tagged and lists were checked-
what truck was going where with who,etc.

Running all along side that was the handholding, the phone calls, the snags with the wholesalers, the logistics--all of it. Maps, photographer schedules, when linen companies would be throwing the linen, when the usually medicated cake lady would have the cake ready...lots of details. for an end product that was expected to look effortless.

Loved it.
The Devil's in the details and man--
He and I
hung
out.

Now granted I expect that which contributed to the final demise of my business was mostly being no longer able to do more than think:

Come on people
This is floral work.
You aren't even going to really see it, you'll be so hung up on the blur of the day and in 6 months you'll be pissed you blew it on hydrangea and not a down payment on a house.

Still at the time it served it's purpose.
It provided the hard I needed.


Fast forward 6 years and I get this call from an old client on Tuesday.
How she found me I still don't know, but she did.

She wanted flowers for her other daughter's wedding.

(Sigh.)

Just a couple of pieces she said.

(Sigh.)

No one else would do she said.

(Sigh. )

Hmmmm, I think.

It might be nice to see if I still have the hands and eyes for it.
The money would be handy, too.

Still.
Ugh.
Sigh.

Awww--- what the hell?
I mean really.
Isn't going to be like riding a bike?
What's the worse that can happen?
I'll come up with something mediocre and she'll never call me again.

The lure to be creative drew me in and made my tongue form the letters
OK.

"Okay," I said, "I'll do it."

"You really should get back into the business," she said, "I can't believe you've been at home THIS long."

I know.
I can't believe it either I think.
I've been home with 4 kids for five years and no one has fitted me for an orange jumpsuit or flip flops.
I have have managed to avoid any and all felony convictions navigating Momminess.


"Think about coming back," she presses.

"Nah."
This I said out loud.
"You can't go back."
I said that out loud, too.
It sounded stark hanging in the air as we spoke via cellphone.
But it was also subtly comforting.

I'm finally getting that one.
I think this as I am hanging up and letting what I said out loud resonate.

Not only can't I go back.
I don't want to.

So
today--

I have flowers on my porch waiting for my hands and this wedding tonight--
Something my past brought.

and

I have an email regarding my job in Iraq--
Something my future sent.

I'll be working hard again soon it seems--just around the last week in February.