I have been off on what day it is all week. On Wednesday, I thought was Friday and today feels like Saturday. There is no such thing as time anyway -- at least not this week at my house.
I am curious as to who won the Crazy Sock contest at the Women's Writing Retreat this week. Last year Barbara took it home, even tho I thought my socks were fairly wild and crazy. I'm sure we'll hear about it tomorrow or Sunday --
The flowers arrived in the afternoon. Lauren personally vouched for the florist, and security gave car and driver a brief scan before opening the gate.
The arrangement was two feet wide, three and half feet tall, with purple hydrangeas, red roses, baby's breath and a dense assortment of gold mums and green ferns. Lauren directed the young man to the foyer and the antique oak table, that shipped from Spain in 1789.
When he left, Lauren stood back and admired the flowers, pleased with the warmth they brought to the house. Happiness swelled to laughter. It was good to be home, back at the Casa where she belonged.
A miniature camera concealed on the stem of a red rose captured her joy.