Walking into the hardware store with a photo of our grey-ish, tone kitchen in hand I felt confident that I was going to find the paint color for our bathroom in a jiffy, and run home and paint until midnight. Sans interruption.
Handing the photo to the salesperson I explained what I had in mind… "this type of grey color paint for our bathroom…." I knew in a flash "jiffy" was dream word.
His face had the look of concern. Like he was contemplating brain surgery, or worse that the woman in front of him (moi) needed brain surgery. Often my accent and massacred French causes the French face to go into contortion… I literally can see pain in their regard.
"What?" Was his only response.
After twenty years of living in France either one learns to speak French perfectly, or learns to speak French well with an accent, or tries to speak French with a smile on their face, or like me, uses sign language, pictures, charades, and finger pointing.
I told him I wanted to distress a perfect wall. I wanted to mix colors to have the wall look like the color of rabbit fur ("Fake rabbit fur of course!" I smiled hoping he wouldn't throw paint on it.)
My French language skills are lacking. Yet I am keenly aware of what is being said under one's breath. I knew he was trying to find a way around me… He simply said, "What?"
I grabbed the paint chart off the counter knowing darn well it spoke my language. I pointed to a few colors and asked for little pots please of each.
Several pots of every imaginable shade of grey, taupe and sheet rock blueish-green in hand I came home and quickly changed. I sanded the walls, opened the paints and the phone rang.
Sacha was ill at school and I needed to go to Marseille (an hour drive or more round trip) to pick him up.
I jumped in the car, and took off only to realize half way down the road that I should have looked in the mirror before heading out.
Sacha had a tremendous fever. I drove straight to our doctor's office and she prescribed him some medicine and a blood test. He came home, went to bed and around midnight his fever broke.
I started to paint.
French Husband thought I was nuts. I reassured that I was a nut: "Almond Joy!"
He looked at me and said, "What?"
Life is a canvas of rich color.
What color are you today?
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