I hear that all the time. In my case it's more of an impatience than a necessity, though. Couldn't find the little pink cherry blossoms I was looking for when I went to the craft store. They only had fall colors out now - there weren't even any in the clearance buggy in the front of the store. I pulled the sample flower I keep in my purse out and compared to everything that seemed remotely close. If they'd only had the hydrangeas in pink instead of just blue they would have worked. Guess I was still going to have to keep looking. Wonder what the odds would be that same exact flower would be back in the store next spring? Since they were 99 cents, I'm thinking pretty low. decided then I'd just check at, you guessed it, Wal-Mart, the next time I went. I strolled down their artificial flower aisle and didn't see too much pink. There were those same hydrangeas that Michael's had in blue. Doesn't anyone want pink anymore? There were some cherry blossoms. They were the right color but slightly bigger. I guess they'd work. I put the $5 branch in my basket. After pushing my squeaky cart around (and I wonder how they can get so squeaky so fast - they just replaced all their carts about a month ago) I decided to go back for one more look around the flower aisle. I spotted a large branch of baby's breath, but when I pulled out my sample flower, they were the same size. Only problem was these were white and mine were pink. I stood there thinking a minute and decided I could paint them. If they didn't look good enough, I could glue them on my shoes since they won't be seen anyway. And, as a bonus, these flowers were $2 compared to the $5 cherry blossoms. Next step is to head over to the checkout. I get in the shortest line. I notice the checkout lady's name; it's Precious. I try being friendly, because I know checkout people have crappy days sometimes and feel underappreciated. "I love your name," I lie. I think it's crazy and for some reason reminds me of "Lord of the Rings". She barely says thanks and gets on with her scanning. We're doing well until we get to the last item, my flowers. Oh, crap, there's no price tag on them. I tell her it's $2, hoping she'll just take my word for it like they sometimes do and just enter the price in by hand but she says she needs the section code on it. I expect her to call someone over to run and check on it for me, but no, Precious decides she needs to leave her register herself and go hunt down the price. The guy behind me says, "I hope she knows where she's going." Looking in his cart I see his case of beer and know, that even though it's 10 a.m. on a Friday morning, he's probably looking to crack one open as soon as he gets home if he can wait that long. I look behind him and see the line behind me growing with elderly folks. This must be their regular shopping time. Can't they see there's no cashier here, that the line has stopped moving? I try to wave them off to another line but they just think I'm being friendly and wave back. I decide that she was given her name to be used in a sentence like, "She'll waste a lot of your precious time." Precious comes back, rings up my flowers as the $2 I told her it was. I get home and go through my box of paints, pulling out a pale yellow, pale pink and darker pink and pour a dollop of each out onto a paper plate (this is what I use for my palette). I sat there and painted each and every little white flower until it was very close to my original flowers. Now all I have to do is sew them on the dress!
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