The Name Game

I feel the need to post about names of kids. I’ve been making lists of names I might name my future children; this is spawned partly because I work with people’s names at work so I run into unusual ones a lot, partly because the promise of children is much more realistic now that I have someone who genuinely wants to father them, and partly because I’m a girl and I do stuff like this. I’ve found I’m attracted to unusual names like Azemina, Elon, Lael, Perri, Callinta, and Aurian, along with names like Adair, Elise, Tage, Wesley, Brinn, Marcy, Emily, Leslie, and Ainsley. Some of these names might belong in the list of names for characters and not on the list for children. Does anyone have any opinions about giving your kid unusual names that will be mispronounced, misread, and asked to spell all their lives, as opposed to kids who might be one of many in the same class? I know my parents chose a middle road; All of our names are nt too terribly common, like John, Justin, or Jennifer, but are known enough that people aren’t asking us constantly how tospell them. Of course, this is an age where children’s names have creative spellings, but my only inkling toward that is with the name Jennie/Genny, and that’s only because I still have a bit of the obsessive tendency toward isaidello, though it’s not nearly as bad as it was Senior year. Well, and I have a great-grandmother Jennie who I admire.

Any opinions? Comments either way? And no, I’m not pregnant and am not planning to be for awhile, nor am I hinting at it.

Trenchcoat Boy Strikes Again

It’s been five months since this incident, and I’ve seen the guy in a handful of occasions on campus. Last week he came to take a test. He was ushering for a play some friends and I went to last semester. He walked into work again today. I was handling the flow of people, looked up and recognized his face, but said, “Can I help you?” because that’s my automatic response, and he stepped up to the counter. He paused, then pulled a mass of dark blue cloth over the counter and said, “Does this fit?” with a grin. I tried it on quickly and told him it did, thanked him several times, grinned back at him, and went on with work. He told me, in this exchange that this is a Navy trenchcoat, and that one button is missing. I carried it around with me all day (because it was warm and I didn’t need another layer) and tried it on in front of the mirror when I got home. I then cut off the shoulder pads (funny these should be on a man’s coat; I guess they feel the need to boost their ego too) without altering anything. I’ll ponder a bit on what to do about the button, but ne’ertheless, I’m pleased because I expected the guy had forgotten about his offer and had written it off as a pass from a guy who then felt rejected. So have a free trenchcoat!