Well. I spoke to my florist today, and guess what? There is a strong possibility that the lilies I want so badly for my bouquet are going to be unavailable in sixteen days. Which, you know, is when we're getting married. In case you didn't remember.
So much for being easygoing about the flowers. The centrepieces? As long as they're somewhere between dark red and black-red, I don't care. Lilies, peonies, tulips, roses, whatever. Boutonnieres? Corages? Whatever you think looks nice. Bridesmaid's bouquets? White lilies...or white tulips, white anything except roses, please. I was making it easy for the florist to be creative and spend less, especially since her brother, my friend Henni, is paying for the damn things. But the one thing I really want, that I've been visualising for months (since the beginning, in fact), that still makes me go "OOh, it's like mine!" when I see it on photo blogs, is, in all likelihood, not going to happen. I could cry. And it's so stupid - I mean, really, it's a bouquet, it's a bunch of flowers, for goodness' sakes. It will look pretty no matter what's in there, because that's what flowers DO. And no one will know what it was supposed to look like, and they won't care anyway. They won't even remember what my bouquet looked like.
But I will. It'll be in the photos. And I know me, I'll keep going, "Man, I wish I'd been able to get those crimson lilies." For years. Because I get a touch obsessive over things. Blech.
What crimson lilies, you ask? THESE:
I'll keep you posted. I asked her what we could do for a backup, and she said not to worry about that just yet. Hmm. I can't decide if that's good, or that's her placating me.
41 minutes ago