Finally. A new, peaceful theme.
I wasn’t truly loving the orange in my last digs, but something odd has happened as a result of that recent having to live with it for as long as I did and survive. When I’m out and about, all things orange catch my eye. And I have been doing a bit of shopping since our vacation is looming…
…in twelve days.
So why am I messing around with my blog theme, you ask?
I’ve been wondering that myself all afternoon. Actually for quite a few days now.
I have this tendency to procrastinate when I least should. Like there’s actually a good time to procrastinate? Obviously, it’s some misguided passive aggressive behavior my subconscious has manufactured to lull me out of my humdrum existence.
Sounds good, right?
But back to the shopping and the orange. I’d notice a sporty Carmen Ghia in a parking lot, patterns on furniture featuring a light rust. Or cute cotton tees of a rich cantaloupe. And bright orange patent leather sandals. I knew I had a fetish for red shoes, but orange? Mmmmm….cute little summer sandals with little clicky heels. Straps. A smart bow.
Like I said, orange. Did I actually buy them? Sadly, no. And that’s too bad, because they looked like a seriously good time waiting to happen. I would not expect to have a good time walking about in Italy wearing them. It’s so not worth the pain and scars. Okay, so maybe sometimes it is, but not this time. Does it count, however, that I now own an orange Mario Batalli lasagna pan? And two — not one, but two orange tee-shirts?
When I was little, each time that I received a brand new box of Crayola crayons, first I’d inhale their waxy fragrance, then notice that two of those crayons fit right in in my “ugly color” category. Purple. And orange.
Who knew that I’d end up thinking about orange? Actually liking it. And purple? Hell will freeze over before I even think about liking purple.
So which came first? My orange blog theme, or the fashion industry cajoling me to think about all things ORANGE? If I learned anything from Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, it would be that.
Who cares. What does matter is that I also noticed I wasn’t keeping up with my writing here, and when that happens, I sort of begin to wilt a bit. Sure, I’m spending more and more time in foodland, and…well
How could I get away with writing something as stoopid as this in foodland?
Nobody likes orange.