Recently, my husband has developed an obsession for distinguishing colors. If you read the recent debacle, then you know we had a dispute over the specific variations of the colors orange and tangerine. Based on his clear and unshakable stance on the side of the latter, I have come to the conclusion that Nathan needs to leave the color distinguishing up to me.
My mother and I frequently make up our own Crayola Crayon colors. Ever since I was a kid, we would point out a color and make up a new name for it; such as: Zesty Blue (named after a favorite shirt of mine), Granny Apple Guacamole (a.k.a. the color of mom’s office walls), Hazelnut Latte (the color of the Drury Inn off exit 4 in Paducah), Mushroom Gray, Baby Puke Green, & the ever so creative Horse Poo Brown (I think that one might have been created out of a bad situation when dad let a horse loose in the front yard…).
Since Nathan is fully aware that I have a knack for putting a name to very oddly specific color variations, He frequently asks me to name colors for him, and I oblige because, let’s face it, I’m only creative in a linguistic capacity.
So the other day we were walking through the store and he pointed out a very specific shade of blue. “What would you call that?” he asked. “Well, that’s just plain ole’ Cornflower Blue” I said.
“CORNFLOWER?!? What the heck is cornflower?!?” “Well,” I went on to tell him, “Cornflowers are actual flowers, and that’s what color they are. It was a very popular color for living room wallpaper in 1972.”
“Who in the world names colors after REAL THINGS?” he exclaimed!
I paused for a moment, slowly turned away from my shopping cart, looked him dead in the eyes and said “TANGERINE”!