Grey/gray

I bought a steel gray shirt at Target a couple of years ago, and when I was celebrating (it's my favorite color of gray!) Lina shot me down: how can you have a favorite color of gray? I guess technically gray isn't a color at all, but I loooove it.

Gray:
My room. It's beautiful. I can't get over it.

My cheapety cheap Gap loafers that are falling apart but were worth every penny because they're gunmetal and perfect.

Cardigan (also from target).

Bella the kitten. Her name was Sprout before her owner (a friend of my roommate, thus the reason she's been living in my bathroom [Kjersten (sic): There's a kitten in the bathroom! Don't let her out!]) saw Twilight. She's also been litter training in my bathroom. But she's very very sweet and has this tiny scratchy meow that is terribly endearing.

The sky this morning. I wrote about how impoverished and light-starved November always feels, but this morning the overcast sky was the warmest, richest tone of gray I've ever seen. I wanted to weave it into a sweater and wear it. Or spread it on toast or something. I keep trying to write a poem about it, but I started with the title "Shades of Gray" which is cramping the vibe something awful...I'll look into that.

From "My Many-Colored Days," a lesser-known Dr. Suess:
"It's gray day, everything is gray. I watch, but nothing moves today."

Any insights on the gray/grey deal? It depends, always on my mood.





PS: what is it with poets and plovers? Admittedly, it's a lovely word to say, but I think some MFA program bet all the others to see how often they could fit plover into poems. A drinking game of some kind? Plover plover plover.