“We have to have a serious discussion.”
“Uh oh,” I said, “About what.”
“On Monday night we are going to a basketball game. It’s a big game. There are going to be like 30,000 people there.”
“Wait, you said 20,000. You just increased it by 50%. But it’s ok. I’ll bring a chill pill.”
“Karen. They all are going to be wearing orange.”
“Jesus christ. Am I going to have to touch any of them?”
“Well, you might bump up against some of them.”
“Ok, ok. I’ll deal. So what color is Notre Dame? You know, so I don’t offend anyone by wearing their color.”
“How the hell should I know?”
“We should google it.”
Z and I are not sports fans. So why are we going to a basketball game on Monday night? Why are my folks flying in to town today to attend the game with us even though they hate the winter and swore they’d never visit in the snow? Ok, I’m going to brag about Z yet again. Sorry, can’t help it. He’s awesome.
Last year he was nominated for the Continuum + Arthur Pulos Award for innovation in interdisciplinary design education by the Dean of the School of Information Studies. And he got it. How cool is that? It was announced last fall, but the powers that be decided that there’d actually be a little ceremony right before the Syracuse vs. Notre Dame basketball game. There’s also going to be a lunch on Monday. And cocktails. And a dinner. And then the presentation. And then the game itself.
So Monday is celebrate Z’s awesomeness day. I don’t give a shit if I have to be near people wearing orange. Ok, that’s not totally true. It’s going to make my skin crawl. Have I talked about the orange thing here before? I hate it. The color, the flavor, the everything. Z was doing freelance work for SU with the hope of parlaying it into a full time job when I was first pregnant with T and we lived in Providence. He actively hid the orange thing from me for months. When the job prospect started to look really good he sat me down one night and told me we needed to talk. I was hormonal his seriousness scared the shit out of me. That is when he told me SU’s color was orange. I was so relieved that I told him I didn’t care. He said that I didn’t understand. The mascot was the Orangeman. Thankfully this all happened at a really vulnerable time for me–I wanted Z to get a job with benefits so I didn’t have to worry about being a first time mom and the family breadwinner. So I just dealt with it. And it’s a good thing I did. Syracuse rocks and Z has thrived here. So my chill pill and I will stoically deal with being surrounded by the color I despise.