Where I come from they say that a person who has had one or two too many is “blau,” i.e. drunk. In America, blue is not a condition so much as it is a mood. We sing the blues. And if it is all about unrequited love, oh dear, things are not just bluer then blue can be, they are outright indigo if you listen to Duke Ellington. But those are the unhappy people. What if you wake up relaxed and the sky is blue from horizon to horizon and the sun is shining and it is Sunday and you have no appointments? And the Forget-me-nots are wearing their Sunday best blue? Suddenly the color blue changes meaning for us and we remember that the standard measure for beauty is to be blond and blue-eyed.
What does that have to do with me? Simple. I have kept an old German “Personalausweis,” a sort of Nation-wide identity document that states, in German of course, that I am six feet, two inches tall, my hair is blond, and my eyes are blue! So there.