Green

I love getting good deals. One good deal I got at Kohl’s was a lime-green polo shirt for $2.50. Shortly after I purchased that shirt, I wore it to Disneyland. After a little while in the park, I used the restroom. While I was in the restroom, I moved my jacket from my waist to my backpack. I thought I had tied it securely, but apparently I had not.

As I ran from the restroom area to join my husband Danny and the rest of our group, I heard some shouting behind me. Danny started pointing behind me. “Green shirt!” a man was shouting, “GREEN SHIRT!” My jacket had fallen off my backpack, and this man, in an attempt to be helpful, had picked up my jacket off the ground and tried to get my attention the only way he could: by yelling out my most defining characteristic at that moment—a green shirt.

I turned around and walked back toward the restrooms, my face as red as my shirt was green. Danny couldn't help but laugh as I walked sheepishly back to the group. He called me a mint julep. Unfortunately, at that time I was too mortified to see the humor in his comment. My day at Disneyland had been slightly tainted.

***

Fast forward about one year, and I finally dare to wear my green shirt again. It's a beautiful summer day; my mood matches the brightness of my shirt. I've been working out, I'm in good shape, and I'm feeling good.

Enter Majed.

Majed is my coworker. He is a nice, older gentleman, and an Iraqi Kurd. His interactions with me are generally either (1) super polite and courteous, or (2) super sarcastic (if he's joking around). But on the day I'm wearing my green shirt, Majed's humor takes a turn for the inexplicable ...

Majed passes my cubicle and stops to say hi. His eyes widen and he looks like he's trying to keep from laughing. I ask, "What?" He says, "That's a nice shirt." I said, "Yes, it's a bright color, isn't it?" I briefly explain to him what happened at Disneyland (Green shirt, GREEN SHIRT!!) And he says, "It's nice." "What?" I ask. "No, it's nice," he replies. Then he chuckles as he walks back to his cubicle.

What's that about? I wrote Danny an e-mail about what happened and he tried to console me. He likes the shirt. He's sweet.

Plus, why should I care what Majed thinks anyway?!? This, coming from a man who wears a uniform of a blue shirt and gray pants (of various shades) everyday. Of course he would think my shirt was *ahem* "nice."

Besides, when you're getting a good deal, you can't be picky; but more on that later.



18 November 2009--

Finally, here is the picture of the infamous green shirt:

Notice the wrinkles in the fabric ... due to an extended period of being crumpled in the back of my closet.  Unfortunately, this photo doesn't do justice to the intense green-ness of this shirt.