I could’ve sworn this cooler was blue yesterday, I thought to myself.
Standing in our kitchen, I was looking at the small cooler we often use to haul gatorade, ice, and cooling towels for our son’s baseball. My eyebrow was gently cock-eyed as my mind tried to decipher what exactly I was looking at here.
The cooler was looking like a reverse Dalmatian. It had obvious white spots on what had previously been a pristine royal blue exterior.
Before I was married to an artist, I saw the world in simple colors.
Green was green. Whether it was your run-of-the-mill fescue grass you find on suburban Canadian prairie lawns or the coarse baize covering a billiard table, the color was simply green.
Same for blue. Whether it was the crystal-clear sky on a cloudless day or the inimitable, googly-eyed Cookie Monster, the color was simply blue.
“Yay, networking,” my artist wife said last September.
She was sitting in the corner of our living room in her navy blue easy chair. She had completed a mural the previous week. In my super casual, completely stealth, I’m-hunting-for-story-inspiration way, I was asking her about how the opportunity had come about in the first place.
Apparently, the opportunity to paint this mural came about quickly. And it came with the added pleasure of collaborating with another artist.