Glitter bouquet

Today, I was given a bouquet of flowers as part of my goodbye celebration thing at my base school. The roses in the bouquet had/have print glitter all over their tops.  I have seen fake roses with their petal tips dipped in glue and then glitter, but I think today was the first time I’ve ever seen real roses that had undergone this procedure.  I instantly thought of my best friend, who loves glitter.  And then her husband, who doesn’t.  As part of their pre-wedding celebrations, I did an interview thing with each of them.  One of the questions was asking about something that the other loves, but you really don’t.  Her then-fiancé answered with a powerful, “Glitter.  It gets everywhere.”

On the bus, heading home shortly after the ceremony thing, as I carried the bouquet in a cardboard box filled with whatever I needed to take home from my desk, I discovered pink glitter on my shirt, pants, and even ukulele, which I was carrying on my arm.

Just now, getting ready to sleep, my attention was caught by a pink sparkle… on my bed.  Why must there be glitter on my bed?

Oh, glitter.  Oh, glitter.  😛

Post-a-day 2017

when you stop and smell the flowers

Tonight, I’m just not feelin’ it…, though I’ll write anyway, and just make it quick.
Walking home, I stopped to smell these flowers (despite the fact that it was near one AM already, and I was exhausted [still am, too]) I was passing.  I read this thing on the inside of, I believe, a Dove chocolate wrapper, and it said, “Take time to smell the flowers.”  Somehow, it translated to, ‘Take time to stop and smell the flowers,’ and has stuck with me as such ever since then.  I make particular notice whenever I see flowers and feel as though I don’t have the time to stop, and I re-evaluate how I am living my life each time I see flowers and am reminded of this line (almost every time they look pretty).

So, tonight was no exception.  I stopped and smelled these flowers, flowers I had yet to notice during he daytime.  And, would you believe it?  They smelled like popcorn.  Buttery popcorn, though only lightly buttered, came in through my nostrils at every flower.  They might even have been a sort of roses.  White, popcorn roses.  It was spectacular, and I don’t even particularly like the smell of buttery popcorn.

Post-a-day 2017