Everyone has a “thing.” Some people’s thing might be that they’re into clothes. Others may be into travel, while others yet may be into cars. This “thing” that I’m referring to is something that you genuinely enjoy to the point of possibly spending an overly excessive amount of time, money, or energy to participate in. My “thing” is food. Shocked, huh?

Okay, although that may not be a surprise to most who know me, but let me explain to what extent I dabble in gastronomy, or the art and science of good eating. In many of my previous blogs, you now know that Tom and I will travel great lengths to eat at destination restaurants. We’ve thoroughly enjoyed ourselves at numerous establishments around the country stretching from Beverly Hills to one of the food meccas of the world (and our all-time eating paradise) New York City. I can honestly say that I probably have one of the most diverse palettes of just about anyone out there. I can (and have) eaten some of the worst to noshing on some of the best in the world and everything in between.

I’m a strong believer that you can’t know what good food is unless you’ve tried bad food. If all you have is good food, then how do you know it’s really good? Wouldn’t it just be average? I mean, what do you have to compare it to? However, many people probably wouldn’t go to the extent that Tom and I go through. In fact, some people might find it downright moronic to spend more on one meal then some people spend on a mortgage payment. It’s what’s in your taste, really, and what drives you. However, I never thought my “thing” would be taken to an extreme.

Tom and I moved into our new home last November. We worked with an interior decorator to choose all the selections inside and outside our home. When it came time to do the exterior, the decorator talked us into a color palette that I wasn’t really comfortable with. It just wasn’t us. It wasn’t quite unique enough. However, in an attempt to keep the momentum going, we decided to go with the decorator’s suggestions.

Last minute, however, I had a bit of a panic attack and decided that I didn’t like the exterior colors after all. That spewed an ongoing process of hiring a new interior decorator as well as finding new exterior colors. After countless meetings and near hair-pulling for me and Tom, we finally decided on the new colors.

Well, the magical day finally came. The painters arrived at our house to start the painting process. Over the course of the weekend, Tom and I watched the painters do their magic. We watched as they transformed our unpainted, raw James Hardie-siding house to a flourish of colors in a span of a few days. Everything was starting to take shape and the colors held a beauty of their own. Throughout the process, however, I watched with intrigue as our house was starting to resemble something that was strangely familiar, but I couldn’t exactly put my finger on. As the painters were halfway done, it finally dawned on me what this something was.

I looked at Tom and uttered two words: Spanish olive.

Yes, my “thing” for food somehow, subconsciously, affected my decision in choosing the paint colors for our home. At first I was a little unsure of the resemblance, but now I’ve embraced it. Why not? It’s perfectly apropos, considering what I do for a living. Hey, it could have been worse. It could have been salmon color to represent my love for fish or black to represent caviar. Rather, it is a palette of colors rivaling the best of salad bars. So now I can just tell people to look for the giant Spanish olive in the cul-de-sac. You can’t get more unique that that.