I have been thinking – for quite awhile – about giving my family pseudonyms in blogland. I read many bloggers who do this – and they all have funny/appropriate/applicable names they have chosen for their loved one. Names which give their family members anonymity, yet also describe their personalities to some degree – I assume!
I love this idea. I love that I then wouldn’t have to call my husband “him/he”, or call my son “my son” or confuse you readers when describing my two daughters.
I have finally arrived – due to a new acquisition in our household – upon my chosen names. It’s only taken me a year.
My husband: The Sailboat King. More about this in a moment.
My son: Jack Pumpkin Head. (He’s 12. Need I say more?) I hope that using this name isn’t an infringement on L. Frank Baum’s copywrite. I tried to check but had no luck on turning anything up.
My oldest daughter: Meep. This has been her nickname for years, so it seemed appropriate.
My youngest daughter: Boo. When I was young we had a cat named Boo. She was a bit feisty. We named (with permission from her soon-to-be owners) one of our current kittens “Calli Boo” and she is an explorer, a runner, a cutie. ‘Nuf said.
Now for the explanation about my husband’s moniker.
I came to my husband a couple weeks ago with a request. A kinda major request that involves free airmiles and being away from home. He, looking slightly relieved and slightly guilty at the same time, said, “I’m glad you asked because I want to ask you something too.”
He wanted permission – my blessing ? – to buy a small sailboat. A Laser, to be exact.
The upshot: I am going out – with the kids – to Washington again this summer, and he went out to Wisconsin – with two of the kids – and bought the boat.
Then, of course, he had to sail it. I forgot that risking his life would be involved in this agreement.
Okay, perhaps I’m exaggerating. He can swim well and he wears his lifejacket. When he remembers.
He took the boat out the first time with his mentor-in-sailing, his boss, sailing alongside in a sailboat of his own. Everything went well.
He then took it out for the second time by himself. In 25 mph northerly winds. To the western end of the lake.
He’s a determined guy.
Two friends, at separate times, passing by on their drive around the lake, stopped to watch as he struggled against God and the wind to get the boat in the water. They, the luckies, drove away. I, on the other hand, had to watch as he tacked across the bay, nearly spilling at least once, and decided that the errands I had meant to run while he sailed would have to wait while I put “911” into my speed dial.
The kids and I sat in the car and
winced watched. Finally, after what felt like ages, but really was only about 15 minutes, he came in to shore, happy that he’d proven he could sail in such winds…and freely admitting that he would not likely ever do it again…at least, not on purpose.
I am pleased to say that nothing was wrecked or lost despite the spills the boat took while being launched and landed. I am displeased to say that I had forgotten to reinsert my memory card into my camera so I have no shots to prove any of this ever happened.
The next day we saw one of the friends who had stopped to marvel at The Sailboat King’s tenacity.
He was pleased that The King was still alive.
As am I.