I remember when my mother decided to paint our living and dining room teal. She came home one evening with three large buckets of paint from Home Depot. I was 10; too cool to help but bored enough to watch. She slathered the teal mess all over the walls. She even put on a pair of old overalls and a bandanna. My father came home from a weekend trip and hated it. He said she'd traded in butter-cream lovely for true teal (truly disappointing teal). She painted over the molding and got spatters on the ceiling. Our family dog had teal speckles on her floppy black ears for at least a month. After a few month she was holding up paint samples again, now its a mauve-ish pink color.
One of my best friends has a friend who I don't particularly like. That friend is getting married soon. She's one of those wedding-on-a-budget types. She'll be at Michael's and Frank's almost every day sifting through isles of decorative nonsense looking for things to make her bridesmaids make the week of her wedding. I'm glad I don't know her that well. The first time I met her, she pulled out a scrapbook that was overflowing with swatches, magazine cut-outs, scraps of paper with notes, and paint samples. She pointed to two of the samples and gingerly put them together. She said, "These are my colors. What do you think?" I wanted to say, "Your wedding is going to look like you and your man are huge Tiger fans, and you aren't even from Detroit. Burnt orange and Navy blue are NOT wedding colors, pick something else." But I simply nodded and said, "Well that's unique."
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