Did you see in the news White House florist was quietly dismissed? Speculation is that the florist's French style did not comport with the first lady's more modern preferences. Wouldn't you love to see those emails?
We have no shortage of flowers here.
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File under Things that Would be a Really Big Deal and Probably Racist if the First Lady Was Republican But Aren't Because She's Not.
Joan Crawford: No more wire hangers!
Michelle Obama: No more white roses!
My outside plants suffered. It snowed last night but melted fast enough, and that tells ya plants really should be inside. But they're not. They're outside and they're struggling to stay alive much less take hold, far less flourish. <--- I bet that word comes from flower.
Flower is a favorite crossword fake out. See, the clues are not there to assist you in finding a direct shortcut to the solve, no, they are there to confound and to vex you, to puzzle you, to send you off in the wrong direction and still be legal. They must be fair. But the stretch cannot be so extreme that it snaps. The clue will be "Flower of Tuscany" and naturally you think of flowers and not of rivers, flow-ers, except you know they pull this and you know ARNO is a particularly good word for crosswords constructors.
It's like the dog who learns to use their nose and cannot be faked out with fake ball toss. They learned not to trust you, or to expect your fake outs. I could NOT fool my German shepherd with a fake throw. He knew where the ball was and he knew I was a punk.
I like Florida a lot. I could live there. It's my kind of place.
On Miami's South Beach late one night back from the clubs I slipped into a hole in the wall cafe still open that early in the morning. Brightly lit. Red and white, mostly all around, a bit grungy. I was thinking, this is like Mayberry except different and dirtier.
I opened the menu and began reading. I am sitting in a booth that can hold four people, even six. Two benches facing each other, I'm sitting in the center of one of the benches, contrary to the general color scheme, the bench is olive green. My attention is focused on the menu when movement to my right draws my attention off it because that is quiet impossible, nobody is with me.
I swear, the biggest cockroach in the world pulled up through a crack between the bench and the wall where nothing could possibly fit, this cockroach slipped though with ease compressing his carapace to paper to pass through then expanding to full depth once through. It took a position to my right and looked at the menu. Then looked at me, its antenna moving apparently randomly, then back to the menu, then back at me.
"Shall I read it for you?"
"I can't read."
"Very well. Do you prefer lettuce type things or hamburger or sludge or shit or what? Do you like spicy things"
"I'll have what you're having."
And I'm all, "Story of my life. Stay off the coffee, there, it's not meant for bugs."
color? what's that?
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