I’ll admit it: I’m blessed to have my lovely wife because her color palette is superior to mine, but that’s not saying much. I once painted a huge wooden desk the brightest yellow that a five dollar bill could buy. It took an entire week to restore that desk and remove all of that crap. She actually believes that I’m partially colorblind. I don’t buy it. We argue over brown versus olive green, grey versus silvery blue. I’m close. Definitely not blind.
One thing we agree on is we don’t really like pink. It’s not a color we’ve ever had any draw to. In fact, I have an aversion to the color. The quality of the color is one that actually pains my eyes a bit. So when we got word that a baby girl named Ellison was coming along, it put us in a bit of a predicament. I mean, tradition would suggest that you have to work in some sort of pink, but we don’t want it to be overpowering. And, most clothes, bibs and anything that you can fashion out of plastic for a girl is a shade of pink. You can build a palette or color scheme that is just absolutely void of pink, but it’s gonna work its way in whether you like it or not. The solution for my lovely wife was the following scheme.
Man, she’s freaking good. I mean, she’s a col’ gangsta of interior decorating. I complain that sometimes it takes her about four times to get the wall color right, but when she does, it’s a beautiful thing, man. She took the pink and basically made it the strawberry in neopolitan. Flowers, corduroy, dark wood, a pink hippo from my auntie Inez. Yeah, now we’re cooking.
Spent Friday night at Babies R Us pounding myself in the head over which pacifier to pick. Maybe we need to move to a socialistic society. Is it seriously necessary to have over 50 different pacifiers on the marketplace? Can’t someone just make the best pacifier and make it your only choice? How difficult is it to achieve a superior pacifier? It’s a freaking rubber nipple. I don’t care what color it is.
I was amazed at how many products were “nippled.” The breast feeding section brought on a bit of discomfort. Started wondering why I have nipples. They don’t do anything except suffer an occasional pull and twist from my brother. Yep, still. Just a useless bumpy pieces of flesh set upon my torso. They get big when I eat too much and accentuate through tight t-shirts. That’s not much of a purpose. That’s just annoying.
I’m starting to believe that 33 years old is, by today’s standards, a little old to be a new father. Looked around at BRU and noticed that most of the dingleberry fathers who were languidly following their respective wives were probably five to ten years younger than me. Oh well. I was always last to do a lot of things. I’m that way on purpose. I’m not stalling, I’m thinking.
In “meanwhile back at the ranch” news, Red Sox are one game back in the AL East. Holy cow. AL East are close to having three teams that are at .600 or above. There’s no other teams in the majors that are above .600 and the AL East could have three of them. And, unlike most years, it could even be a FOUR-horse race in the AL East. Toronto’s only 4.5 games back. My lovely wife reminded me last night, “It’s early.” Geez, buzzkill. I think she’s measuring the remaining baseball season with the arrival of Ellison because she’s well aware that September 27th is not only Ellison’s due date, but it’s also the day after the last regular season series between the Sox and Yanks. When she says, “It’s early.” She’s actually moaning about how long and how hot of a summer she has ahead of her. Or she really could be just trying to kill my hopes for postseason baseball.