The Color of Life

I read on Coats Thread website that there are 10 million colors that the human eye can distinguish although we don't have the language to describe them, to name them. And how many people know what "cerise" is anyway? They made 150,000 colors last year at their 40 dye houses around the world.

That is a lot of color.

Coats also credits Gordon Sundbank with the related item the zipper. The zipper had been thought of earlier but Gordon, bless his Swedish engineering soul, perfected it.

What would our Universe be without color?  What would our life be without color? Disneyland without color? Baby Josie without color? The Pacific Northwest's beloved green and white ferries? Did anyone else love Crayolas as a child? How many have doodled with colored pencils? I drive to work on grey highways, the sun shines on poor and rich, flowers and weeds, cows and whales, dessert and forests, and all of it pleases my eye -- somehow.

Color is best distinguished against a neutral grey background viewed at a 45 degree angle. I don't know why, something about the refracted light. Ask an engineer; Marc, Mark?

Color and zippers; two important elements in life. And not just for keeping your privates private, but metaphorically speaking. The colors of our life are endless, amazing, amusing, powerful, seemingly inexhaustible. Birth death love passion are all elements that color our life...

...And bound together with some kind of human zipper.

How does a stranger become a friend. I notice one reading a book, another asking questions, another in the smoking area almost as much as me. Mary, Lynn and Claire. A phrase, a peek, a conversation over tea or coffee in the break room blooms with color and surprise into a longer conversation, a laugh, meeting outside the boundaries of work. Slowly our lives become entwined with drives, bookclubs, siblings. Claire has almost as many siblings as I. Mary turned me onto great books, especially The Curve of Time, one of my favorite books ever. How can I not feel the beginnings of love for such a gifted reader. Lynn loved drives and walks and eating and mini adventures. They all made my life better, more interesting, more fun, more thoughtful, more colorful.

I watched Carol crochet a beautiful pink baby sweater sitting next to me at Washington Mutual, well you all know how I feel about little girl pink crocheted baby sweaters -- with a white ruffle going down the front, and she was reading also. She colored my life with amazement at her talent. I didn't know then that I was glimpsing the very tip of the proverbial ice berg of her talent.

We don't have to develop a friendship with our siblings, we are born to that, but friends come different. Jean worked with a girl who had a mother. Jerry worked with a man who had a wife. Ian met a goofy kid who knew Nila.

What is the color of a safe harbor? A place we just know we belong. The right fit, the right balance. The right color. Thank God for those 10 million colors and my place in them. I always tell people, "I'm not the sharpest crayola in the box, just one of the more colorful."

Speaking of friends: At work the other day I was writing an email to the customer service team and used the phrase "Patience is painfully hard work." Being a writer I like to attribute credit so I Googled the phrase and Google pointed it's finger at me. That was weird, that was more than weird it was spooky. It seems I had used the phrase on a blog and Google gave me credit. Now you know how much Google can lie.

Then later at bookclub my colorful friend, Eleanor, said she Googled a person for an innocent reason and found out enough to be embarrassed by it. Now my curiosity was aroused so I Googled me, yep, it is scary what the world can know about you. I don't, and don't know how, to set up privacy blocks, so the whole world can know about me.

Most of it was from The Spirit of Maxine, but also that I have lived on Mary St., might be related to Robert Jones, all of my alias', and I have a bunch, any variation of my names is listed as an alias. Even the misspellings of Neomia and Carrillo. Apparently the colors of my life are transparent.

I am apparently transparent at work also, to some. I am just not a color in their universe.

My house purge continues. Ian carried out seven more bags.

I thought I could write a blog and not mention Connor, but I have discovered that it is not possible. He told me the other evening to clean my bedroom because it was a mess and full of germs. Sweet boy.

I had a little birdhouse for him to paint and he enjoyed painting it for about fifteen minuets then he told me he was going to take a break, and for the next three hours he crashed cars. I don't think he will be an artist.

I am zipped up to that wee colorful kid.

Bo and Christian gave me a 3% chance of going to reunion this year. I said with a 3% chance I'd better reserve a cabin, however the cabins are all booked. Anyone have a spare? Or spare camping gear? Christian was trying to explain to Bo about his middle America family reunions and Bo asked rather sheepishly if there would be any other Asian's there. Christian said no, but his family would welcome her with open arms, love, and affection, as they would him after an absence of many years.

I loved it that Christian had no doubt in his heart. That is the color of family.

The world, the universe, is filled with color, go zip yourself up to some. Brazil, The Maldives, Madagascar, colorful places all, or so I have been shown. And Alaska. Alaska will color my life soon, soon.