Authors note: I am using the "u" in colour and the spelling of grey for gray, despite the protests of my spell checker, because That Darn Cat asked for this post and I feel that I should do something to honour the fact that she is plagued by the defect that is being Canadian.  When will those people give in and admit they live in the 51st state and stop putting on airs?

Grey is the colour of most of the things in my life.  It is the colour of my car.  Well, the manufacturer calls it silver, but really, what is silver but trumped up grey?  The leather seats are flat grey and the dash board is dark grey.  The crumbs of food that have fallen between the seats and the random pieces of candy that are under the seats are all covered in a grey moldy fur.  The back windows have a grey haze of dog slobber coating them. On the bright side, this all acts as a deterrent to the ruffians in my neighborhood that boost cars.  So, there's that.

Grey is the colour of the fine layer of dust that covers most of the furniture in my house.  Yeah, you try to keep ahead of the dust in a house where 300lbs worth of dogs live.  It is also the colour of my 13 year old dog Bruno's undercoat, which he sheds constantly, and is therefore the colour of all the dust bunnies, or rather dust doggies,  that gather in every conceivable corner of my house.  It is the colour of my once white vinyl kitchen floor.  Dogs, shoes, and the turkey I dropped on the floor on Thanksgiving add to the growing greyness that floor cleaner and a steam mop can not remove.  

Grey is the colour of most of my sets of white sheets, pillowcases, and Dave's socks.  Remember those old Wisk adverts for "ring around the collar?" In my house there is a grey ring around just about everything that used to be, or should be, white.  My life seems to leave a patina of grey on everything that I touch.  It's a shame that Wisk doesn't make a shower gel.

Grey is the colour of more than one of my pubic hairs. Yes, the drapes match the carpet, as they say. And why is it that they say this?  Most interior decorators are gay men who don't care what colour a woman's pubic hair is. Every month I dye my hair. (No not my pubic hair, Dave closes his eyes when we have sex so he doesn't notice the discrepancy. ) Yet, by week two my grey roots are peeking through.  For many years I wore my hair grey, deluding myself that it was the same lucious silver white colour that my aunt Melantha and my mother have.  But I have miles to go before I am rewarded with that luxury.  One day I got bored, and put some of that cheap ass hair colour that you buy at the Rite-Aid in my hair.  I thought perhaps auburn would be a good change.  I got pink instead, and not that fun hip vibrant pink the kids wear.  No I got an ugly dusty rose.  So now I pay a nice girl to colour my hair and regularly debate shaving my head and starting all over again. Unfortunately the fact that I'm losing my eyebrows and will look like I'm going through chemo with a shaved head stops me every time.  Oh, yeah, my eyebrows, all 12 hairs that comprise them, are grey too. Oddly enough the hairs on my chin and upper lip haven't turned grey yet, but having seen mamoore's ancestor's photo, it's only a matter of time. 

Grey is the colour of my eyes when I get really pissed off.  It would be nice if I could invoke an icy blue stare, or could wither people with a Maureen O'Hara emerald green glint, or a vicious violet gaze like Vivian Leigh could whip up. Oh to have a glare that evokes terror in whomever it is that pushed my buttons. But, no. I get a less than threatening filmy grey colour that could easily be confused for cataracts. Ah, yes cataracts... one more thing to look forward to with age.
 
Grey is the colour of my mood on most days.  I am in a fairly constant state of ambivalence. My life isn't tragic, but it isn't as exciting as I had once hoped.  It is in a static state and grey is the color of stasis. It is the colour that software developers choose for inactive buttons. It is the colour of pause.  And that, right there, is the description I find most apt for my life.  I am on pause.

Grey is the colour of the tennis shoes I wear every day to the gym.  They match my grey workout tights and grey sweatshirt.  It is the colour of my favourite fake cashmere Target sweater and most comfortable pajamas, which are frayed around the cuffs.  This is the outfit I wear while writing this post.  Glamour is not required when no one can see.

Grey is the colour of my favourite salt. Vignalta Sale Alle Erbe delle Marlunghe (Herbed Seasoned Sea Salt.) My sister Parrish gave me a bottle of it as part of my wedding gift, which was a basket of all the fabulous thing a chef likes and never wants to open and share with the peasants.  I use it on damn near everything I eat.  It, and the memories of my sister season every part of my life.

If anyone askes you about me...you could say, they can colour me grey.