The heart is true; the heart is true...

You've got to love Californians.

Southern companies give you Good Friday off and don't serve alcohol at the company parties.
But the folks Mark works for now...

There was a box sitting on my doorstep when I came home today. I didn't see any markings right off, no "This Side Up" notice, so I hoisted it up, set it on one of the chairs in the kitchen, and went on my way. Mark came home and called "Why is there a Hallmark box in the kitchen?"
"It's from Hallmark?"
"That's what the box says."

So I gave the box a better look. Not just Hallmark, ladies and gents, but Hallmark Floral.

And gods know how long it had been sitting in the cold on my stoop waiting for me to come home. Oh God, it's dead, was all I could think as we split the tape and rescued the poor plant from its box.

Cut flowers? Who sends cut flowers in December?

Mark's Californian company sends flowers. But not cut--potted. A poinsettia, to be exact. With dirt, moss, a pot, and care and feeding instructions.

This poor thing...

I'm sure this sounded like a good idea in print, but in practice? Mark's never messed with potted plants, but I have. The only one that managed to survive my loving touch was the english ivy that I pried out of my last apartment's siding and rooted in a waterglass. I think that's more a testament to the ivy's determination than my knack; after all, it *had* been living on insulation--water was a step up.

We've got him sitting on the stool by the kitchen window, now, the poor plant. He needs a name; I can't keep calling him "the poor plant".

I'm thinking Doulande.
Because the song going through my head is "Five Knacks for Ladies" by Mr. John Doulande.

"I keep a fair but for the fair to view
A begger may be liberal of love.
Though my wares be but trash,
The heart is true, the heart is true;
The heart is true."

Only Californians...