So much love, such a little blog

I cheesed on Mr. Palindrome yesterday (who asked me if 135 hits on his first day was any good - any good? that was my best day all year! sheesh, people really like to read about bad customer service) before he'd even given me a Valentine's gift.  Sorry for the overload, but his sweet bestowal is totally worth two cheese posts in a row.

I usually buy myself flowers.  Mr. Palindrome is super practical and he thinks flowers just die.  He likes to give gifts that keep on giving (like dance lessons).  I love, love, love fresh flowers and think life is just easier to bear while taking in their fragrance and blooms.  So I usually throw some grocery store flowers into my cart and as long as I also throw in some treat for him we're even.

This Valentine's we invited some friends over for a mondo cheese and chocolate fondue dinner party and I bought these beauties:

Trader Joe's had an awesome deal on the dozen and they're seriously fragrant, like I can smell them from my couch.  Mr. P acted all funny about them and said that he was supposed to buy me flowers to which I retorted, "Why start now?" or maybe I said, "Eat another Organic Rice Krispie Treat and shute your pie hole."  It definitely got me thinking that just maybe he was planning on getting me flowers.

I came home from work yesterday and immediately saw these waiting for me:

"The color of love," he said.  So I smooched him.  Then I went into the kitchen to get a bagel and I saw these:

Yay! The attached card was uber cute, but uber personal so no peekies at it, but it did include a spa certificate.  Yeeeeeah Pedi!  I was all beside myself with my little garden downstairs, so I went upstairs to change into gym clothes where I was greeted by this on my dresser:

Holy petals of love and overwhelming flower infatuation!  Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, I went into the bathroom and found these:

I think if this MBA thing doesn't work out, he has a calling in flower arrangements to answer.

I feel like I'm living in the Secret Garden.  Are you ga-ga for flowers like me?