Oh me oh my...
Sometimes there are days when I can't escape a color. It creeps its way (unnoticeable to the rest of the world but violently loud to me) into my day in all manner of odd places. Back in high school, there were the pink days. These were the days God would use for a good laugh because we all know that a Texas male in 1997 associated with pink is asking for its own ABC sitcom (not to imply that God at all appreciates ABC). I'd have on a pink shirt and that would happen to be the day when my only guitar picks were pink and/or my choice of vibraphone mallets (chosen for the sound quality, I swear) had to be pink. And of course I couldn't help but sense even the pink of the eraser attached to the good old wooden pencil donned behind my ear a la Tom Thumb. It was like Pig Pen's dust cloud following him around (or the bad luck cloud I've grown accustomed to - sorry; different entry for a different day); seemingly inescapable.
Today: avocado. The only t-shirt I wear on a consistent basis bears the same guac green that graced the bodies of gigantic Dodge autos of the late 60's. As fate would have it, my only really clean pair of socks (don't begin to pretend that you don't have various stages of "clean" for socks) held the same hue. And as I was sitting in Starbucks (hello...) today, I pulled out my latest book, "Praise Habit" by David Crowder and the cover could have been printed on my t-shirt with nary a clashing pixel. Have I mentioned yet that my eyes love being surrounded by this particular color? Because, in proximity to it, they chamaeleonically change to match!
I won't bore you although the story does continue with more color stalkings throughout the day. For this is not the point. The point, dear readers, is that I should have known this bombardment of the palish green was not without meaning. No, no. It was telling me that I was about to buy a car that is, by far, the dumpiest vehicle I've ever owned. My latest automobilic aquisition, while it is not colored "puke green" (as the color is often referred to in car form), is certain to cause others and perhaps myself to see to the very verb that adds descriptive flare to the shade.
Wow! My new car is the biggest eyesore, piece-of-crap beater I've ever seen.
Hasta
Today: avocado. The only t-shirt I wear on a consistent basis bears the same guac green that graced the bodies of gigantic Dodge autos of the late 60's. As fate would have it, my only really clean pair of socks (don't begin to pretend that you don't have various stages of "clean" for socks) held the same hue. And as I was sitting in Starbucks (hello...) today, I pulled out my latest book, "Praise Habit" by David Crowder and the cover could have been printed on my t-shirt with nary a clashing pixel. Have I mentioned yet that my eyes love being surrounded by this particular color? Because, in proximity to it, they chamaeleonically change to match!
I won't bore you although the story does continue with more color stalkings throughout the day. For this is not the point. The point, dear readers, is that I should have known this bombardment of the palish green was not without meaning. No, no. It was telling me that I was about to buy a car that is, by far, the dumpiest vehicle I've ever owned. My latest automobilic aquisition, while it is not colored "puke green" (as the color is often referred to in car form), is certain to cause others and perhaps myself to see to the very verb that adds descriptive flare to the shade.
Wow! My new car is the biggest eyesore, piece-of-crap beater I've ever seen.
Hasta