Yellow

It's not uncommon for someone to ask me if my favorite color is yellow, given my name and all. But when I think of yellow, I think of my friend. The Moaner. You'll meet her tomorrow, but I want you to hear this story. Because it's hilarious. To me anyway. If you don't think so- then pretend you didn't read it and spare my feelings.

Last summer, I moved in with a dear friend of mine into her well apointed condo. To paint a mental image for you, think of an easter basket. Now think of a bomb. Put the bomb in the basket. Detonate it. Taa Daa!! Her apartment. Every surface is covered in some sort of pastel creation. And the blankets on the couch. Ohhhhh the blankets. Ever been in a guest bathroom and seen that hand towel? The one that you know is there for you to use, yet you are hesitant because you know that the second you do, it's no longer perfect, and it's your fault. You ruined the aesthetic. How selfish.

But blankets. They're everywhere. Fragile quilts from a bygone era when Grandmothers sat in circles, sewing these beautiful quilts to pass down to future generations so that their descendents wouldn't shiver on a cold winter's nights. Clearly they didn't see the invention of fleece or sewing machines in the future. Regardless, several of these quilts made their way into her living room. And I don't like to move them. But back to yellow.

When I moved into my apartment, quite a few neighbors were moving out. Embarking on their individual journeys out into the real world. And leaving their junk furniture at the garbage facility in our complex. Lots of furniture. We became quite the scavengers. On one random passing, she found it. A wicker chair reminiscent of one she'd seen on a magazine cover. It was painted yellow and had a pink chenille coushin. Adorable, really. But the one she found was hideous. It looked like it housed a whole colony of bugs. But she saw the potential and snapped it up and thew it in the bed of her truck.

About this time, I had decided to paint a few end tables black to match my new bedroom decor, so I was in the market for some spray paint. As luck would have it, so was she. So we went to Walmart and spent a good fifteen minutes staring at the paint cans, trying to figure out which would be best. Gloss? Flat? Primer?! I grabbed two cans of black, and she got three cans of yellow. Surely three cans will be enough to paint a small wicker chair, right?

Wrong. Dead wrong. Six cans later, we had successfully painted a parking spot sunshine yellow, but the chair was soaking up the paint. We didn't know what to do. In a stroke of genius, she thought to call her friend, whose boyfriend knew all about it. In about .16 seconds he told us we needed primer. Ahhhhh, yes. Primer. So, after the third trip to Walmart, we had two cans of primer, the last four cans of paint in the store, and some of our confidence back. Boyfriend was right, and we soon had one yellow chair. Success!

*I might also mention here that we had quite the scare when I realized the possibility that what yellow paint didn't make it onto the pavement or chair miiiiggghhhtttt have accidentally blown all over the black mustang beside us. But it didn't. Whew. That were close. There's no denying yellow spray paint when every neighbor you have saw you out in the parking lot.

Fast forward 12 hours and Moaner and I were painting my new bedroom the most beautiful shade of grey. It was Ralph Lauren paint, Orion Grey. I was obsessed. This was around the time I had a little grey addiction. Ok big.  Grey paint, grey bedding, grey cardigans, grey jewelry... you get it. My little helper was sitting on the ground doing a horrendous job at trimming out my windows when I went to hand her the phone. Her girlfriend with the boyfriend had called to check the progress of the chair. When she looked up at me, I saw them. Two completely yellow nostrils. I don't know how to explain it. Except to say that her nose looked like someone had swabbed the inside of it with a hilighter.

I laughed so hard I might have had to sit down and cross my legs. Then realized that wasn't working so I ran to the bathroom. That might have happened.

So now you know. When I think yellow, I think of her. And her yellow nose hairs.