On Jan. 25, 2012, I phoned the floral geniuses at Leppell’s to have some flowers delivered to my best gal. The phone-answerer inquired, “What kind of arrangement are you looking for?”

“Something grandma-birthday-ish.” I replied, as always using only the most technical of terms.

Having faith that Leppell’s would throw together an amazing grandma-birthday-ish arrangement, I gave them my financial data and bid them adieu. All of the hard work on my end (that phone call) was finally done. I sat back and waited for my gram to call, gushing that I was the best granddaughter that anyone ever had.

Very shortly after ordering the flowers, my gram’s number showed up on my Caller-ID. I was shocked that Leppell’s had delivered so quickly. I knew they were efficient, but I didn’t know they were THAT efficient.

I thought to myself, “How did they get everything put together and delivered in 20 minutes? I bet they have a pre-made arrangement for this exact kind of thing. It’s probably called, “The Grandma-Birthday-Ish Bouquet” If they don’t have one, they should. I think it would be very popular.”

After this short conversation with myself, I answered my gram’s call. Because I’m basically an impatient 4 year old, I didn’t even let her speak before I blurted out, “How did you like your flowers?!” No answer. “Oh no!” I thought to myself. “She hates them. Was my description not detailed enough? Did they have more of a great-aunt-birthday-ish look? Too many

chrysanthemums and not enough tibouchinas? I hate when florists skimp on the tibouchinas.”

My gram interrupted this second conversation I was having with myself when she asked, “What flowers?” *Sigh* “You didn’t get them yet, did you?” I said. “No.” She answered. “Well, maybe they left them on the porch. Hang on a minute. I’ll go look outside.” She was often cute like that. “No, it’s OK, Gram. I just ordered them, but I thought that’s why you were calling.”

We had a good laugh over the matter (I was crying on the inside) and then got off the phone. I hung my head in shame. My lack of patience had ruined everything. Nice job dumb-dumb. Way to throw all that hard work right out the window!

An hour later she called again. “I got your flowers!” She said with a laugh. “Surprise!” Apparently, the arrangement was gorgeous. Leppell’s scored a touchdown. I was the only one to blame for this loss. I couldn’t even claim that the refs were paid off.

The moral of this story is that I can never, ever be trusted with surprises or secrets. This is even more important to remember now that I have a newspaper column read by millions. That being said, if you like to live dangerously, you can e-mail your most sensitive information to christyrasmussen@yahoo.com.