One of Los Angeles’ best kept secrets is the happy little gang that sells flowers outside of a certain 711. And NO, I cannot divulge the location, I already GAVE you a hint. Anyway, they have the freshest, prettiest, most inexpensive flowers in all the land. They come packaged in these humongous bouquets which are so big that from one, I fill every vase in my house and still have plenty of leftover stems for the bathrooms and such.

So, whenever Chris comes home carrying one of these most desirable bundles (which to his maaad flower cred, is all the time), its a big moment here in the Bell house. Me with the ooh!’s and holycow!’s and Max the Hammer and Babaganoosh with their very own pieces that don’t make the cut stashing them all over the house for later use. When all is said and done, our person and our place is totally ensconced in flowers. After we finish doing whatever the hell it is we do, we all collapse in the livingroom totally strung out on nature. Hippies, I sware.

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