It is a grey, rainy Mother’s Day weekend; but look I have some bright and cheery grocery-store roses. Sarcasm aside, they really are quite pretty. Their primary colours stand out stunningly against the grey–both the day and my wall. And I love them.
No I did not receive these roses from JT or The Doc. I picked them up at my local Sobeys store earlier this week. A little gift for myself. No one buys me flowers. This might have something to do with the fact that The Doc once showed up at my basement apartment, early in our dating history, with a bouquet of wild roses that he snipped off his bush before he came. Sure that may have been very romantic, but I waited until he left then quickly dumped them outside under a bush. Their perfume (wild roses should never come indoors), was assaulting my sense of smell, which has been described by The Doc as something that should be a weapon for the FBI (ok maybe CSIS since we are Canadian). Either way, these roses were giving me such a headache that I thought I would puke.
Like the cheap Avon perfume, (Roses, Roses, I think it used to be called) the odor crept into my nostrils and bombarded its way upwards. I can’t bear strong and particularly awful smells. Cheap Avon perfume is one of those smells. Actually most perfumes assault my nostrils. Perfumes, scented candles, potpourri, cleaning supplies, the kitchen garbage and a long list of other things that can induce some pretty bitchy headaches. Including freshly-cut Irises, which were what The Doc brought on another occasion when he arrived at my apartment. The irises, surprisingly, had quite a smell and suffered the same fate as the roses. Then I made the mistake of telling The Doc what I did with his flowers. My purpose was to save any future flowers from being cut and to avoid any headaches from their strong smells. Well The Doc, a man who always learned lessons very quickly, concluded that if I didn’t want the flowers, I wouldn’t get flowers. And after that I never did. Of course, that might also have something to do with the cost of florist-quality, none-smelly flowers.
What I do get though is food. Food that I don’t make because I no longer enjoy participating in meals with long drawn out recipes that require lots of chopping and prep. Most of the time, I am a toss-it-in-the-oven cook, and I am not too bad at it. I just don’t feel like getting adventurous in the kitchen any more. Plus I can no longer be trusted around knives. All my fingers are rather fond of using the keyboard so I would like to keep them. On this Mother’s Day weekend, I do not have to enter the kitchen. The Doc cooked Saturday and JT is cooking today. The house is full of wonderful smells that I inhale in with long deep breaths without hesitation or worry of headaches.
Having my family together for this day is better than any flowers. It has been several years since JT has been here for Mother’s Day; and like his father, he is a good cook. And because it is Mother’s Day, I will not be cleaning up. So cook away my son. I won’t even swoop in to wring out the dishcloth although I may slink back in later to do that. I just can’t help myself.
As far as the grocery-store roses go, they don’t have a strong smell that would have kept them from my shopping cart. I bought them to put outside in my garden. I had purchased a pink one for Mother’s Day a couple of years ago, and it is thriving out there in the protected spot I selected for it. I have another protected spot under my dining room window where I plan to plant these two. At only $11.99 Canadian, they are a great deal; and if they happen to decide they don’t like it there, c’est la vie.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Thank you for reading.
Photo: Jenn Stone