I had an astonishingly productive weekend. We got Eric's car fixed (mostly--to save $100 we also have to go in next weekend), got some AAA brochures about our honeymoon, visited a nursery to inquire about papyrus (and found some lovely stones we'll be going back for when we pave the garden path), bought a coffeemaker and a small ice cream maker for test batches, got the best man to try on his vest, mowed, mulched, discussed the gutters the city's asking us to fix with Eric's mom, and worked on wedding music.
And we ordered flowers. The florist at Hafner's never called me back, but Hafner's was between the AAA place and the nursery, so Saturday morning we stopped by. We got asked to come back in twenty minutes, so we went to the nursery first after all, but on the way back we stopped back in. The wedding florist (what do they call the people who do wedding flowers?) was with "a regular customer whose mother just died," so Tink, the wedding florist's assistant, asked what we wanted. She got everything down, took names, agreed to make a tiny safety-pin corsage for Eric's niece, made recommendations, asked if certain flowers would be okay as fillers. Her total? $258. And she didn't ask for a deposit. We agreed to pick up the flowers the night before the wedding and walked out, happy. "If you want the best flowers in town, go to Glendale," Eric said as we were getting back into the car.
"But we don't need the best flowers in town; we'd rather have the extra $220," I concluded, and he agreed.