dream team

I mean, oh snap! Look at this brilliant team of tough nutz! An intimidating marlon brando-esq maitre' d named "J-Z" took this photo of us after a 12 hour day installing a great big wedding at Cipriani 42nd Street we knicknamed "Dances with Branches."

We've never attempted such a large, complicated job. I can't begin to describe the process. I can tell you that it included a color coded schedule broken down in 1/2 hour segments and that when I woke up this morning I couldn't feel my arms. Because they fell off in the night.

I mean we had walkie-talkies, folks. Staging areas. Coffee and coconut water. (I've mastered the balance of simultaneously de-hydrating and hydrating.) At some point in the afternoon, overwhelmed with the transformation of the ballroom, I looked around and felt immense gratitude for the beautiful women working with me to make this happen. I CRIED.

So somehow armlessly I'm typing here - to tell you how thankful I am to have the toughest, smartest crew a florist could ask for. I also want to tell you that when you ask you're friends to come assist at a wedding they may tell embarrassing stories about your college days to your employees.

I'll post photos of the flowers later in the week, and ladies at our next dinner I promise to make sure all the wine is cold.


Postscript
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...As I type this up in our lofted office, a 100+ degrees up here, I am secretly eating italian cookies from a delivery to Union Street gone awry. In between attempts to deliver to a woman named Edwina (what a name!) I did a little toodle-ing at a fancy grocery on Court Street (Union Market for those of you familiar with overpriced brooklyn epicurian enterprises) and came across a pretty basket of radiccio and proceeded to handle each and every one until I found two that suited me for dinner. Glancing sideways at a woman glaring at me I was reminded of my father, who used to complain that I had to touch every piece of bread in the basket before making my selection. I'm fussy. And happy father's day, Dad.

And for the record, when I say toodle-ing what I meant was I walked directly to the meat counter, elbowed an indecisive man with a baby to order the biggest rib-eye in the case. Continuing the well-deserved tradition of steak eating after a big wedding. I need iron.