Don't judge me: Mothers Day 2009

Mom, Dad, Paul and I all settled in around my beautifully set brunch table on Sunday to enjoy a feast: french toast with strawberries, scrambled eggs with brie cheese, tomatoes and spinach, orange juice in wine glasses, and bacon. I used my good china, fancy napkins and my new place mats. The centerpiece was a gorgeous arrangement of stargazer lilies, purple orchids and some lavender spritzy baby's breath-esque fillers. "Cal, the flowers are gorgeous! Where did you get them?"

Paul looked at me, saw the frozen look on my face and burst out laughing. "Yeah, where did you get them?" He taunted. He burst out laughing so hard I thought he was going to choke on his bacon and got me laughing, too. I could hardly talk. Tears streamed down my face.
"Promise not to judge me?" I asked. My parents looked at each other, slightly alarmed, but they did promise. "Well," I took a deep breath and choked out, "I got them in the alley out of my neighbor's trash bin."
"No," Dad said in disbelief, "You didn't." I explained how I had seen a giant bouquet with some perfectly fine stems looking so bright and cheery that I couldn't leave them languishing in a dirty dumpster. After about five minutes of hysterical laughter we started to calm down, clutching our stomachs.
"Mom why did you ask me where I got them? You've never asked me that before."
"I don't know," she answered, "but I'm never asking again!"