How to Make Beautiful Flower Arrangements

I’ve been with this girl for about a year now off and on. We’ve had ups and downs and I wound up moving about 12 hours away but we’ve tried to keep it working because we love one another. I’m 27. She’s 24.

I offered to move back up there about 2 months ago because she was always suspecting I was cheating on her and she said the distance was too hard. She said she wanted me to, so I quit my job. I turned in notice to my landlord. I found a home for my dog. I packed up everything I had and she called me the day before I was set to leave to tell me she’d changed her mind and didn’t want me there. We broke up for about 3 weeks and then she called me crying saying she couldn’t stand to be without me and that she wanted to work it out. By that time, I had just got my life back together here and told her I wouldn’t move yet and she agreed we could continue to make it work with the distance. I made plans to come see her this following weekend.

Yesterday (Valentines Day) I arranged my schedule so I could talk to her because she said she wanted me to and that she’d be missing me. I had asked where her new office was so I could send flowers and she told me she didn’t want anything. She just wanted to talk to me all night. She didn’t answer her phone when I tried to call her (3 times) so I decided to go get my brothers (12 and 9) to spend the night here to keep me company and so my dad and step mom could go out. She finally gets a hold of me and when I mentioned coming to visit next weekend, she said "If you can’t get it off work, I understand." I said "I already have it off work." She said "oh.."

I said "If something came up on your end, it’s okay. Just say so." She said "Something came up." I asked what and she said "Well we’re having a Mary Kay party here on Friday."

I said "That’s fine We still have Saturday and Sunday together and it’s a long drive. I would be late getting there Friday anyway." She said "I just don’t want you here this coming weekend. I love you, but I have other plans."

I’m hurt and thinking maybe it’s time to end this for good. Why would she do this? Do you think there’s another guy?

Should I just be done?
If she’s pregnant, then that’s another problem. She’s been claiming she’s a virgin and waiting for marriage since we got together.
When I moved, we talked about it at length. I was offered my dream job here and, at the time, she was going to join me in a month or so. I told her I wouldn’t take the job if she didn’t want me to go but she said she wanted me to and that she would follow in a few weeks, then she told me she’d changed her mind and wanted to wait longer after the move had been made.

Man ol’ Man…you have some damn patience I must say.

You won’t like this hard advice but I must tell you this:

Cut off totally with her. Move back get your job back do whatever asss kissing you have to do. Get your life back in order. Learn a valuable life’s lesson in this. She is 24 and very flighty. She really doesn’t know what the helll she wants in life or who she wants. You can’t risk money, time and effort into such a gal.

Move on. Do it yesterday. Be strong. Don’t back slide with her. She has NO respect for you. No way in helll would I do this to a man.~~> Who has changed his lifestyle for me. Then tell him I have stupid asss Mary Kay Party in place of him.

Listen to my advice and don’t back slide one bit.

I have several small places around my yard where I want to plant flowers, but I don’t have a clue how to mix and match and arrange the plants so they create a pleasing color scheme and organized pattern of flowers.

Any tips on how to arrange colors, flower types, designs, etc?
Oh, and I’m going to be planting drought-hearty flowers.

I design using a mix of foliage types and plant heights as well as colour schemes, as this adds even more depth and interest to a flower beds. Many plants are lovely to feel, due to interesting textures, so look out for incorporating interesting leaves, as well as foliage scents, once you’ve done your main planning.

You could have single colour beds which work incredibly well – I like red and white beds, and the white can have a cooling effect in summer time. Generally, if you want to choose complementary colours, the same rules apply as for example decorating. Complementary colours may also be contrasting, and I love purples or blues and yellows together, for example.

So, having a master plan of my garden, and what I want to achieve, I’d then start off selecting the colours by the location of the bed – some may work better in some locations than others. Then from my colour scheme determine which plants could achieve that, and from those which will give me the height variation and foliage mix that would work best for me.

You could also decide to have decidedly different feels for some beds too, such as bright striking colours and contrasts in some, and softer pastels in others.

Using a tool that artists and designers use would be helpful, so that you find the colour mixes that work for you. There’s a simple page of information here – http://www.tigercolor.com/color-lab/color-theory/color-theory-intro.htm

The other tip I’d add is to look at how you can incorporate patterns too, so that you have your mix of curves and straight shapes. Some of us like formality, whereas this may appear to rigid to others, and I generally use a more organic, flowing feel to the garden that I design. We’re all so unique that we each like may be distasteful to the next – I’d encourage you to go for the schemes that please you.

Overall, there is now such an abundance of plants for us to choose from that we can really get creative in our designing. If you’re good with plants, then it’s only about forming your colour combinations, textures and overall plan. If you’re less knowledgeable about plants, then I’d encourage you to get some advice upon which plants will thrive in your varied garden spots, so that all of your plants will flourish in the types of places that they thrive in, sunny, dry, shaded, boggy etc,

Hope this helps. Good luck! Rob

My fiance’s sister will be a bridesmaid in our wedding. I’ve decided on a pale pink, green and ivory color theme. (inspired by pink tulip, green viburnum and ivory rose bouquet) My close friend, also a bridesmaid, has vetoed pink as a bridesmaid dress color, and I’m sympathetic to that. Pink is a tricky color. Not all women are pink kind of women. Green seems pretty innocuous though; I’m not talking candy apple or easter egg green, more of a muted, sophisticated one. Fiance recently conveys to me that his sister cannot stand the thought of a green dress, never wears green, would look awful etc.-the last part isn’t true, well, except in her own head, she’s a very pretty young woman with black hair and a nice tan in all seasons. We’re not close (she’s nearly ten years younger) and she hasn’t brought this up with me herself. So, what do you think. Do I give in to her and re-arrange the color theme I’ve enamored with (found but not purchased flowers, coordinating invites etc.) or not?

You could just find the dress available in multiple colors. Put the close friend in green, his sister in pink or cream and so on and so on. They don’t have to be in identical outfits and it might solve your issue without making you alter your color scheme.

Fifty fun things to do during an exam
You should not attempt these things during an actual exam. The following is meant for entertainment purposes only.

1. Bring a pillow. Fall asleep (or pretend to) until the last 15 minutes. Wake up, say "oh geez, better get cracking" and do some gibberish work. Turn it in a few minutes early.

2. Get a copy of the exam, run out screaming "Andre, Andre, I’ve got the secret documents!!"

3. If it is a math/science exam, answer in essay form. If it is long answer/essay form, answer with numbers and symbols. Be creative. Use the integral symbol.

4. Make paper airplanes out of the exam. Aim them at the instructor’s left nostril.

5. Talk the entire way through the exam. Read questions aloud, debate your answers with yourself out loud. If asked to stop, yell out, "I’m so sure you can hear me thinking. " Then start talking about what a jerk the instructor is.

6. Bring cheerleaders.

7. Walk in, get the exam, sit down. About five minutes into it, loudly say to the instructor, "I don’t understand any of this. I’ve been to every lecture all semester long! What’s the deal? And who are you? Where’s the regular guy?"

8. Bring a Game Boy (or Game Gear, etc. . . ). Play with the volume at max level.

9. On the answer sheet (book, whatever) find a new, interesting way to refuse to answer every question. For example: I refuse to answer this question on the grounds that it conflicts with my religious beliefs. Be creative.

10. Bring pets.

11. Run into the exam room looking about frantically. Breathe a sigh of relief. Go to the instructor, say "They’ve found me, I have to leave the country" and run off.

12. Fifteen minutes into the exam, stand up, rip up all the papers into very small pieces, throw them into the air and yell out "Merry Christmas. "If you’re really daring, ask for another copy of the exam. Say you lost the first one. Repeat this process every fifteen minutes.

13. Do the exam with crayons, paint, or fluorescent markers.

14. Come into the exam wearing slippers, a bathrobe, a towel on your head, and nothing else.

15. Come down with a BAD case of Turet’s Syndrome during the exam. Be as vulgar as possible.

16. Do the entire exam in another language. If you don’t know one, make one up! For math/science exams, try using Roman numerals.

17. Bring things to throw at the instructor when s/he’s not looking. Blame it on the person nearest to you.

18. As soon as the instructor hands you the exam, eat it.

19. Walk into the exam with an entourage. Claim you are going to be taping your next video during the exam. Try to get the instructor to let them stay, be persuasive. Tell the instructor to expect a percentage of the profits if they are allowed to stay.

20. Every five minutes, stand up, collect all your things, move to another seat, continue with the exam.

21. Turn in the exam approximately 30 minutes into it. As you walk out, start commenting on how easy it was.

22. Do the entire exam as if it was multiple choice and true/false. If it is a multiple choice exam, spell out interesting things (DCCAB. BABE. etc. . ).

23. Bring a black marker. Return the exam with all questions and answers completely blacked out.

24. Get the exam. Twenty minutes into it, throw your papers down violently, scream out "Forget this!" and walk out triumphantly.

25. Arrange a protest before the exam starts (i. e. Threaten the instructor that whether or not everyone’s done, they are all leaving after one hour to go drink)

26. Show up completely drunk. (Completely drunk means at some point during the exam, you should start crying for mommy).

27. Every now and then, clap twice rapidly. If the instructor asks why, tell him/her in a very derogatory tone, "the light bulb that goes on above my head when I get an idea is hooked up to a clapper. DUH!"

28. Comment on how sexy the instructor is looking that day.

29. Come to the exam wearing a black cloak. After about 30 minutes, put on a white mask and start yelling "I’m here, the phantom of the opera" until they drag you away.

30. Go to an exam for a class you have no clue about, where you know the class is very small, and the instructor would recognize you if you belonged. Claim that you have been to every lecture. Fight for your right to take the exam.

31. Upon receiving the exam, look it over, while laughing loudly, say "you don’t really expect me to waste my time on this drivel? Days of our Lives is on!!!"

32. Bring a water pistol with you.

33. From the moment the exam begins, hum the theme to Jeopardy. Ignore the instructor’s requests for you to stop. When they finally get you to leave one way or another, begin whistling the theme to the Bridge on the River Kwai.

34. Start a brawl in the middle of the exam.

35. If the exam is math/science related, make up the longest proofs you could possibly think of. Get pi and imaginary numbers into most equations. If it is a written exam, relate everything to your own life story.

36. Come in wearing a full knight’s outfit, complete with sword and shield.

37. Bring a friend to give you a back massage the entire way through the exam. Insist this person is needed, because you have bad circulation.

38. Bring cheat sheets for another class (make sure this is obvious. . . like history notes for a calculus exam. . . otherwise you’re not just failing, you’re getting kicked out too) and staple them to the exam, with the comment "Please use the attached notes for references as you see fit. "

39. When you walk in, complain about the heat.

40. After you get the exam, call the instructor over, point to any question, ask for the answer. Try to work it out of him/her.

41. One word: Wrestlemania.

42. Bring balloons, blow them up, start throwing them around like they do before concerts start.

43. Try to get people in the room to do the wave.

44. Play frisbee with a friend at the other side of the room.

45. Bring one pencil with a very sharp point. Break the point off your paper. Sharpen the pencil. Repeat this process for one hour.

46. Get deliveries of candy, flowers, balloons, telegrams, etc. . . sent to you every few minutes throughout the exam.

47. During the exam, take apart everything around you. Desks, chairs, anything you can reach.

48. Complete the exam with everything you write being backwards at a 90 degree angle.

49. Bring a musical instrument with you, play various tunes. If you are asked to stop, say "it helps me think. " Bring a copy of the Student Handbook with you, challenging the instructor to find the section on musical instruments during finals. Don’t forget to use the phrase "Told you so".

50. Answer the exam with the "Top Ten Reasons Why Professor xxxx is a Terrible Teacher"

STREAK!!! LOL those are good but add mine

It wasn’t that they ever intended to do anything wrong. There had been no conscious decision, no moment when one or other chose to step across a boundary. It had been a gradual shift, a process of forgetting who they were in that other world. After all, London was a very different place, and the memory of rationed food was hard to retain when you could have anything you wanted.

Sometimes Susan remembered. Sometimes she woke in the night with a heavy but unclear feeling of dread, fear of death, fear for her siblings. There had been a time when Lucy had often crept to her sister’s bed in tears, crying for their mother, for Aslan, or just from dreams that terrify the young. But as they grew this became less frequent, and Susan, as the elder, could not turn to Lucy for comfort.

There was only Peter to turn to and not lose face. And he spoke to her gently, with kind eyes and sweet promises and sometimes, in the morning, she’d find a blanket on the couch in her dressing room, but he would never admit that he had slept there.

As they grew their roles as kings and queens became more familiar to them than their memories of England. Memory faded in the way that dreams do in the morning; occasional bursts of niggling remembrance, but full recollection just out of reach.

Lucy was the beloved one, the one who always supported her people, the one they could reach out and touch. Edmund was the lawgiver, surprising everyone with how quickly he learned the intricacies of the legal system. He was not afraid to speak out when he felt his it necessary. Susan was the politician, arranging alliances with visiting dignitaries and charming them with her wit and diplomatic skill, her elegant proficiency at being hostess mellowing even the most aggressive ambassador. Peter was High King, the leader of his armies, the one to whom all the others turned when they were unsure.

They held banquets for the smallest occasion, opening their doors to their populace, keen to demonstrate fondness for even the smallest of their subjects. And yet, Peter found, it was hard to pursue conversations when everyone was so eager to tell you how much they appreciated you. The courtiers learned that they did not need to bow each time he passed, but he could not convince them to give up the slight nod of deference. Then he stopped trying, and became used to it.

It wasn’t that any of the children were lonely as they danced towards adulthood. Lucy was still accepted by her people, still went for tea with the Beavers, and they were all surrounded by the crowds of the court. But they, all four, remained closest to each other. It was to Susan that Lucy went after attending the funeral of a centaur of whom she had been particularly fond. It was from Peter that Edmund sought advice when he believed one of the courtiers was a Calormene spy. And it was to Peter that Susan went each time she gently let down another suitor and deflected another marriage proposal.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t have married them, she supposed, as she tried to negotiate an advantageous alliance that didn’t involve tying either herself or Lucy to some distant prince, but that in doing so the group would split. And they were Queens of Narnia in their own right, were they not?

Peter asked her about it one evening when she stood on the balcony overlooking the sea, salty tears drying on her face. Why had she rejected the nobleman’s son, he wanted to know, when she was so obviously fond of him?

“I didn’t love him, he was just a nice man,” she replied softly. “It wasn’t his fault that half my heart belongs already to Narnia.”

Peter rested a knowing hand on her shoulder, giving her silent support. When she turned into his embrace, burying her face against his broadening chest, it was no different than any other time he had comforted her. He stroked her hair, made soothing noises, and she tilted her face up for kiss like she had when they were children. It was instinct that turned the kiss from a chaste press of lips to something more; neither of them had kissed that way before but it seemed natural to tip their heads and open their mouths. After all, they loved each other as they loved Narnia. They were Narnia.

There was no conscious realisation of what they were doing; all was a continuation of that first, true kiss. Peter settled on the embroidered couch, Susan in his lap, and they murmured gentle words to each other between kisses, touching each other’s shoulders and arms and waists. Peter’s hands on Susan’s breasts were soothing, almost unintentional, stroking her the way he calmed his horse. When Susan shifted her weight and felt Peter’s erection pressing up against her, it was impossible not to press back.

Even when their breathing became more laboured, their kisses never grew more urgent, still gentle encouraging licks and presses, their fingers white with clutching one another, the clothes between them hot and damp, their movements clumsy and beautiful.

When Peter came it was a constricted pulse against Susan’s petticoats, and he tipped his head back and gulped the air as Susan squeezed her thighs around him, shuddering with her enlightening release.

Even then, sweaty and entangled, as they shared a deep, exploratory kiss; even then, when they realised something between them had changed irreversibly, they never considered any alternative to accepting it.

It became a badly kept secret that King Peter rarely slept in his own bedchamber, though no comment was passed. And although Edmund frowned when he found out, he couldn’t quite fathom why the thought brought him displeasure. Peter and Susan were radiant and he could think of no reason to deny them their pleasure.

When Queen Susan’s stomach began to swell, and her gowns had to be let out, there was never any doubt that the child was the High King’s. The people of Narnia rejoiced that they would have an heir and the Golden Age was complete.

The baby was born in the spring, just as the flowers began to bloom. They called their daughter Arian, and no child was more loved. Queen Lucy was in attendance throughout the birth and was the first to lift the child into her arms. It was from King Edmund’s knees that the little princess took her first step. Each year her birthday was celebrated with the grandest feast of the year, the creatures of the country coming to attend her and lavish her with their affection. The little princess learned the ways of her land and was as fond of the woods as the palace, often spending the whole day with her animal friends.

It was on such a day as this, shortly before Arian’s eleventh birthday, when she was happily sharing tea with Mr Tumnus, that the four kings and queens stumbled back into Spare Oom.

It took only moments for the combined weight of their memories to send them sinking to the floor. Susan looked up into Peter’s childishly round face and her eyes filled with tears. Edmund bit his lip and avoided looking at them.

When Susan sobbed herself to sleep there was nothing little Lucy, sitting with her arms around her sister, could do. There was no way back through the wardrobe, the professor said. Susan’s daughter was gone.

She tried to talk of Arian to Peter once, in the days after their return. He gripped her hand until his nails made her bleed, but he never spoke a word.

The shared memory of another life was oppressive and the children drifted apart, unable to speak of what had happened, unable to maintain that closeness with those who reminded them of their other lives. But it was still there.

Sometimes Susan forgot and took Peter’s hand, kissed his lips instead of his cheek. Once she bought a little handkerchief embroidered with the monogram AP, and then realised none of her siblings had those initials. One day late in March, when he was fifteen, Peter returned home with a small package, and Lucy asked if they might have a little party, and Susan burst into tears. Their mother, confused, saved the iced buns for another time.

When Susan brought home her beau, a tall American sailor, Peter couldn’t eat his dinner and hardly spoke a word all evening. When Susan lost her virginity for the second time she returned home and sought out her brother, curling silently in his bed, pressed against his warm body.

It was only then that they consciously stepped over the line, just once, to let themselves memorize every touch and every breath, so that, when they had to return to being brother and sister, when they could no longer be King and Queen, they had a way to remember Narnia.
It’s a fanfic a friend of mine made.

Hmmmm…
I don’t remember this being in any of the books.

edit—that fanfic is SICK.
Well written, but too twisted.