(No, I'm not from Texas.)
The year was 1986. The internet was just a gleam in Al Gore's eye and computers spoke a language called MS-DOS. These boxy machines connected to each other through phone lines using a screechy (and now obsolete) electronic device called a modem.
A young advertising professional in New York City (okay, that was me!), housebound with a case of Hepatitus A, logged onto her client's online chat service to do some research for their upcoming ad campaign. Given the slightly jaundiced pallor of her Hep A complexion, she logged on using the pseudonym Yellow Rose.
Safe at home in her flannel and fuzzy slippers, "Yellow Rose" flirted anonymously with a cadre of online suitors, but was especially charmed by a young man who claimed to be from the South of France. Hours flew by as the witty repartee scrolled across their computer screens, until finally her Frenchman bid her "Bonne Nuit". The next day, a dozen yellow roses were delivered to her door, with a card reading "Feel better soon" and an invitation to chat online again.
To make a long story (very) short, that suitor is now my husband of 25+ years.
The hepatitus was gone after 5 weeks, but the subsequent relationship resulted in a wonderful transcontinental courtship, a storybook wedding off Central Park, complete with horse-drawn carriage, a great life in a garden brownstone on New York's Upper West Side and eventually, the birth of our son and a move to the West Coast.
Throughout all this, my husband has good-naturedly "shared" me with whatever messy, crazy and creative projects I was working on, many of which habitually rendered the various tables in our home unsuitable for the preparation and serving of meals. He took it in good stride when, despite it being my turn to cook dinner, there was not a single pot simmering on the stove at 8PM, the piece of meat for the evening meal was still encased in a frozen block of ice and the dining chairs were piled high with thread, fabric scraps, bits of leather and various items that I'm certain looked to him very much like trash, because most of them were. (To be fair, I WAS planning on reusing them in my projects.) In addition, he puts up with my erratic, off-the-wall hours (you never know when a creative urge will hit!) and now that we are empty-nesters, he even allows me to drag him to craft fairs.
Given that history, it seems only fitting now that I am launching this web site and online store, that I dedicate it to the memory of our early courtship and the quarter century of benevolent tolerance that followed.
Why Yellow Rose?
Where to find us