Of Roses and Daisies and Dions

It's been ten days since my last post.
I had no idea I'd been gone that long.
I've been posting in my head, but that doesn't really work, does it?

Two weeks ago, on Valentine's Day, my husband sent me roses.

I blogged about them the next day.  

Remember how pretty they were?  So fresh and bright:

 

Believe it or not, they are still here.  After two weeks they are starting to show their age,

as roses live life in the fast lane and burn out quickly.  But heck!  Who am I to hold that against them?

 Their color is darker and duller.

Their edges are getting rather, well, oddly purple and crinkly.

But they have not dropped even one petal.  I reward that kind of tough-it-out behavior.

These babies aren't going into the compost heap until they start

scattering rose petals like over-excited flower girls at a wedding.

  

Honestly?  I like their blowsy, woman-of-the-world look.

Kind of like a woman of a certain age that you might meet in a New York City bar,

wearing an old Chanel suit, holding court in a gravelly smoker's voice, and drinking a martini.

A real martini, not one of these newfangled apple-kiwi-caramel concoctions.

 Okay, I admit it -- that's who I want to be when I'm 80.

Not that I hang out in bars, or smoke, or drink martinis.  But maybe I will when I'm 80.  Why not?

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 New flowers arrived on the scene today to steal the limelight.

A gift from friends whose dog -- Dion's sister Nina -- we minded over the weekend.

Minding Nina is a joy; she's what I call an "easy keeper," and is as sweet and dainty as can be.

If Queen Victoria were a Cavalier spaniel, she'd be Nina.

Dion, on the other hand, has never been much interested in being an "easy keeper."

A few nights ago, he decided again that the bathroom tissue

(see how elegant I am being, not calling it toilet paper?)

needed to be dragged from the powder room through the kitchen to the sunroom.

Till it ran out.

He tried to deny involvement, but the scrap of paper caught in his chest hair was pretty incriminating.

Busted.

Tomorrow I've got a raft of thrifty buys to share with you.

Furniture, flatware . . .  more furniture.

I've been busy.

Happy Monday!  I'm late, but there are plenty of earlier entries at Mosaic Monday,

at Mary's Little Red House blog.  Click here to visit!  You will be glad you did.

Mary's own collage is of hyacinths and -- well, go see!  -- Cass