Not charcoal. Not black.
Not Fox Hound or whatever the other one was called.
Not Weathered Wood. (Confession: I used to pick nail polish and lipstick based solely on the name.)
Although while I'm thinking about it, a bunch'a ya'll'ns owe Tan a big, sloppy apology. What's so wrong with Tan, yo?
(I love you, Pinterest, but these binders have been with me for 12 years now. I'll not abandon them.)
True, we had already decided against tan for various reasons, but what can I say? I feel protective of her. She may be a little quirky, but that's usually not a bad thing.
A friend of mine sent me this link and referred to my situation as "your tan/light grey discernment process". It spoke to my soul, and not just because my soul always longs for the truth to be told in as wordy a way as possible.
And now, a word from my main girl, Tan (and her muse, Jeremy):
But back to you. I love you, man. I might get all in a wad over the roof venom you're prone to spewing, but in the end, you help me make sense of the earth-toned voices in my head.
You made valid points about the lighter shingles potentially staining.
You're probably right about having a little more contrast.
Staci? You're an angel, sent from above, where there's nary a mauve roof to be seen.
What I'm trying to say is, thank you for blatantly disobeying my orders. Thank you for not agreeing just to agree.
For those of you who did agree, thank you. You are my favorites.
Just kidding. I don't play favorites.
Except when it comes to salsa.