Jami, Defined

I had a pretty awesome dream last night, and since I just did a post about dreams, I won't bore you with it, although at some point it might actually make a good short story. Or graphic novel, if I could draw, which I can't. The long and short of it was that I was a supervillian. A really, truly awesome supervillian, too, not that anyone who knows me would be surprised by the super or the villian part of that. Anyway, at the pinnacle of the dream, as my very cool plan fell into place, I asked the elite cadre of superheroes opposing me: "This challenge forces you to ask yourself, and tell the world- what defines you?" And I woke up thinking about that question. What defines you? PaperbackWriter used to have a little blurb on her blog listing the many titles she can claim, for lack of a better term. As in, daughter, wife, cousin, friend, writer, etc. That is one way we define ourselves. Most important in my life are my roles as wife and mother, but that isn't the extent of me. On some levels, our actions define us, as do our choices. We are what we do. But is that it? I've heard it said that we we do and think behind closed doors is who we truly are, but I'm not sure I totally agree with that. If Gandhi went home at night and kicked his dog, does that make what he did of less value? My thoughts, the most private parts of my souls that no human sees or knows - can that be the very essence of me? Or is that just an aspect of the whole - isn't what I show outwardly also part of the definition of Jami? Superheros choose a name. Most of the names are fairly clear and shed no light on the person in the mask. Spiderman - he's a man who has the power of a spider. But what about Ozymandias from the Watchmen (which I watched last night, very good, btw)? Knowing the poem and a tiny bit of the history, I wondered at a man who would choose such a name for his alter-ego. It's a hint, IMO, about what lies beneath. What about Superman - who would allow himself to be called that if he didn't believe that he is superior to men? He didn't come up with it himself, but he didn't offer a more catchy alternative, did he? If you were to name yourself, would you pick a name with a meaning more important to you? My name means successor, supplanter or usurper, depending on which translation you look at. I have always liked "successor" with its promise of something important waiting for me. The other two have a more negative connotation. But would I pick something else? Something I long for, like Serenity or Sage (meaning wisdom)? Something I think I am, like Cara (friend) or Drusilla (strength)? Or would you decide that a single name can never define all that we are. So, my dear heroes, now is the time to tell the world - what defines you?

Jami Plays the Name Game

So here's the deal, folks - we know this baby is going to be a boy and we're tossing around some names. However, we will not be sharing the name with anyone until Gurgle (as Eddie has named him) makes his appearance in this world, probably around the end of September. It's nothing personal, it's just that we don't want everyone's opinion of the name we pick. We have some friends and/or relatives for whom tact is a foreign concept, and since we can't tell some of you and not all of you, well, you all suffer. So sorry. This way, by the time you hear it, even if you hate it more than any name ever created in the history of man, it's just too late. BUT - if you have naming suggestions, we will be totally happy to consider them. Post them here, email me, tell us in person, whatever. I promise you we will at least say it once out loud before rejecting it and mocking your complete lack of taste in names. Since all of us currently have 4 name-names, we will be giving this little sprout two middle names of his own, giving you one extra chance to get your suggestion in there. Of course, my laptop also is nameless, so if you prefer to stick with naming the basically inanimate, we'll be accepting suggestions there, too.

Jami Needs Help Naming

Okay, I have a handheld computer thingy that needs a name. I'll just been calling him "him" and "the Intermec".Here are some pictures.


He really needs a name, and I feel especially bad about him not having one because I dropped him on his head this afternoon. He kept working just fine and I couldn't even say "Sorry, ____, Thanks for not breaking". I am a loss, no ideas even. He's definitely a guy, though.

Jami's Friday Feast

Feast 175 Appetizer What is your middle name? Would you change any of your names if you could? If so, what would you like to be called? I have two middle names - Lynn and my maiden name - and I wouldn't change it. I always wanted a name that came with a nickname, Jami is already a nickname so I didn't have a really formal name. Soup If you were a fashion designer, which fabrics, colors, and styles would you probably use the most? Um, I would probably use a lot of black, and whatever fabrics are comfy and inexpensive? I know nothing about this. Salad What is your least favorite chore, and why? Doing the dishes. I got a dishwasher and now EVERYTHING goes in it. If it can't go into the dishwasher, I don't want it in my kitchen. Baking stones excepted. Main Course What is something that really frightens you, and can you trace it back to an event in your life? I am really terrified of being permanently lost, see here. I don't know what could have caused this. Dessert Where are you sitting right now? Name 3 things you can see at this moment. On the recliner in the living room. I can see my son, my dog and my telephone.

Jami and Beloved Stanley

I never did announce it, but I named my iPod. His name is Stanley I. Poddy, though his close friends call him Poddy. I occasionally call him Beloved Stanley because I adore him. I had been wearing "real" headphones with Poddy, because I don't really like earbuds and for the life of me, I can't get them to stay in my ears. I think I just have malformed ears. Unfortunately, my real headphones were super-cheapy-free-with-purchase ones I'd had for awhile and they died. Very sad. I've taken to wearing the earbuds, since I didn't have anything else, and I've found a way to wear them that suits me. Basically, I run the cord up behind my ears and rest the buds on the top of my ears, like tiny speakers broadcasting from my head. Not only does this keep the buds in place more effectively, it also gives me a vaguely alien appearance, like I have antennas that I just didn't quite manage to hide. And that makes me silly-happy. Every time I catch my reflection with my little white antennas, I just grin. Just one more reason I love Poddy. Then, on the Simpsons opening a couple weeks ago, Bart wrote on the blackboard "There's no such thing as an iPoddy." Of course, Stanley is an "I. Poddy" but still. We were incensed. Even Eddie is familiar with Poddy. He calls it "Mommy's pod-pod" and will listen to one of the buds, if I let him. If it's music, he'll dance a little. If it's talk, he'll bring the bud down to his mouth and say "Hi, mommy's people". He's brilliant. Just think, he'll not remember a time before iPods. And so, Eddie, the Husband, Joxer, Stanley I. Poddy and I all wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving. Go forth and eat much. PS - I had originally written that I had alien-like antennae, but when I double-checked the spelling, I learned that the plural for the mechanical kind is antennas whereas the kind on animals is the -ae plural. Since mine are mechanical, even if they are on my very own human head, I went with the -as plural. Any English majors want to chime in on which of those is more appropriate?

Jami's Odds and Ends

Does anyone else think the name "Umberto" is just too close to "umbilical"? Every time I hear someone say "Umberto" my head adds "cord" to the end. I don't follow baseball much, but isn't the World Series, at least in theory, supposed to be a contest between the two best teams in North America? Then how could I have turned the game on last night to see Boston ahead by twelve runs in the bottom of the eighth? They are still just one point a piece, right? It's not like they've added touchdowns. This is true: the commentators were so bored they were discussing Van Halen. Again, I'm not that up on the current baseball situation, but as far as I know, Van Halen is not really involved in the game, even the finals. I have never locked the keys in the car, but I did leave them in the car today, in the ignition (!!) and with the passenger side door unlocked (so technically, I still haven't locked the keys in the car). I'd have to say that the Galleria parking lot must be a very safe place, because the keys, the car and all its contents were still there an hour later when I got back. And finally, back to the Word Game, which I forgot last week: Rules are here. I expect EDW, Patrick and previous winner PW to humor me this time, please? This week's word: abstruse /āb-strōōs'/ 1.hard to understand; recondite; esoteric: abstruse theories. Obsolete. secret; hidden. 2. Concerned with obscure subject matter. Have a great Thursday. Hope I haven't been too abstruse.

Jami's Security Issues

The past few days I've been making the switch from summer clothes to winter, which felt strange in the upper-70's weather we've been having, but I know that if I don't do it now, I'll wake up to 3 feet of snow and sub-zero temperatures and not be able to find a single sweatshirt. Part of my routine is to run all the clothes through a short cold water rinse cycle in the washer and then the dryer to get them all nice and smelling fresh. One of the loads yesterday contained the baby's winter blankets. I scooped them up and tossed them in without looking. And what did I find as I transferred them to the dryer? My WOOBIE!! If you're a regular reader, you'll know I struggled with whether or not to keep it, being that I'm a bit old for a security blanket, but the truth is, I kept it until it got too hot to have a fleece blanket wrapped around my head at night. The plan became: I'd throw it in with Eddie's blankets and when I got it out this fall, I'd be over the whole woobie thing. Wrong again, Jami! I couldn't wait for the dryer to buzz and when it finally did I triumphantly freed my woobie from the pile, wrapped it around my head and shoulders burka-style and happily wore it the rest of the evening. It went back to my bed last night and is waiting for me still. I'll admit it's odd. I've been attached to objects before, but generally only when I've been sick or had a serious stressor in my life. When I miscarried, I got super-attached to my body pillow, Madrid, and I carried him from room to room and sat or laid on him everywhere. When I had the flu, I couldn't let go of my blue beanie baby bear, and dragged him along until I didn't feel like I might die at any moment. But right now, there's nothing critical or serious going on. Sure, I have stress, but not more than any other given week. Still, I love my woobie. Yes, the normal time for having a woobie, lovie or security blanket/object is ages 2-4, and I am just a few years past that, but hey, I've never done anything the "normal" way; why start now? Speaking of Lovies, I can't for the life of me understand why Lovie Smith's parents would name a boy that. I can see calling your baby Lovie and all sorts of other endearing cutesy nicknames, but come on! You knew that little baby was going to grow up and have to be Lovie in junior high and high school. To make matters worse, Gilligan's Island started airing when Mr. Smith was about 6 years old, with a rich white lady named Lovey. This has nothing to do with my woobie, I'm just saying.

Jami's Random Ramblings

I haven't had much to blog about lately. I could talk about neighbors who rev their motorcycle engines for no apparent reason for 15 minutes before actually leaving on it. Or construction that starts at 7:50 am so that they can apparently be done by noon and not come back until the next morning. I could tell you how my adorable and perfect son decided that my arms are covered in sprinkles (not, he insists freckles) which he then pretends to eat. I could even explain how he's totally potty trained as long as he's naked from the waist down and in the same room as the potty. But none of those seems like a full post. I would like to say, to those women who need to hear it - stop dating and marrying like you have no brain. He's not going to change just because you're married. Cheaters still cheat, liars still lie, abusers still abuse. The first time he calls you the C- word, DUMP him and never, never, never look back. If he doesn't like your kids, he's not going to, and they need you more than you need him. Don't date a man who doesn't want what you want. Don't get pregnant by someone you aren't sure you want to marry. Don't date a man you have to support financially, unless you plan on doing it the rest of your life. Okay? Please? I'm starting to be embarrassed to be a woman. On a lighter note, the Circle of Friends Review blog took a bit of a break, but it's back and I'm working to keep new reviews coming up. The reviews are done by people with generally good taste, which of course, means people who like the things I like. The summer TV season is about over, and the fall season won't start for awhile (a whole MONTH until new Heroes?? Come ON!), so there's not much on the tube - not that I have the time to watch much. Why does Thomas the Tank Engine have an estimated 17 million friends? There are rarely more than 4 or 5 trains in the entire episode, plus, of course, the helicopter, the bus and the tractor. So why do we need all the minor characters? It can't just be so that I'll buy every stinkin' engine that comes out, can it? It can? Sigh. My friend Kristi and her husband Ben are having a baby boy - in the spirit of parents helping parents, I'd like to suggest James as the name, after yours truly. Or, if they want to get creative, why not combine your names and call him Krinjamin? Benti? Hey- if you're that person that won the Powerball? I'd really love just a little of that cash. I promise to put it to good use. Seriously, you won't even miss - let's say - 100 grand? And it would totally help me out. Let me know. I couldn't believe I didn't win, we had like TWO totally different numbers. TWO!!

Naming Ourselves, Part 2

Yesterday I mentioned that at the tender age of 4, I attempted to rename myself Cindy. The continuing part of this story is that as I got older, I practiced using the name Cynthia Jones as a psuedonym, in the event I had to flee and use a different name. That's right, as far back as Junior High, I had a name in reserve, just in case. I'm a big contingency planner. If you think it's a bad thing that I've told you my "secret" emergency name, don't worry, I changed that shortly after high school, out of concern that someone might remember that I went by Cindy and that could endanger me or them should I have to use it. Therefore, I can assure you that if I disappear, you won't find me living under the name Cindy Jones. My emergency name is common, but not too common. It's a normal spelling of a normal name, and no one, no one knows it, not the Husband, not M, not my parents (never know who I'll be hiding from). It's not a name that any one who knows me would make a connection to me, like a former pet's name or a favorite actor/author/character name. I think I'd be safe. I was going to ask what kind of thoughts went into chosing your emergency name when I mentioned it to the Husband, who insisted that 1. He doesn't have an emergency name, 2. Never put any thought into having one and 3. Neither has any sane person. It can't be just me - anyone? Anyone? PS - Look - M's got a blog!

If We Named Ourselves

Generally, we don't get to chose our own name. Sure, you can legally change your name to pretty much anything you want, including Max Power. But most of us tend to stick with the moniker our folks chose, possibly with the addition of a married name. We make peace with it and/or learn to love it, if we didn't before, and that's that. I'm fine with Jami now, though I still maintain that it's a nickname and I always wished for a "full" name, sigh, oh well. I think Jami looks cute typed and written. My middle, maiden and married names all also have 4 letters, making me a perfect square, at least name-wise. It's quick to write and even though old people tend to call me Janey or Jenny, most people don't say "WHAT?" when I introduce myself. BUT, if I'd named myself, it would have been at about age 4 when I decided that I was Cynthia (Cindy for short). I refused to answer to Jami, only one of the aforementioned names. I wrote "Cindy" in my coloring books and on my "papers" from playing school. My mother began to worry about how she'd explain to the kindergarten teacher that even though my name technically was Jami, she'd have to call me Cindy if she wanted an answer. Long story short, the situation resolved itself before school started, and instead of me, a life-sized doll answered to "Cynthia" (well, not really answered, but you know what I mean). Some days I wonder what would have become of me had my parents let me keep the more girly "Cynthia" and ditch the possibly unisex "Jami/Jamie/Jamey . . ." Would I have become more perky and bubbly as Cindy? A cheerleader and the Prom Queen? Would I have shown a stronger interest in name-brand jeans and eyelash curlers? We all know about Shakespeare and the rose is a rose . . . blah blah blah, but how can I be sure? Like it or not, you have an expectation of someone, however weak and changeable, based on their name. So would I still be ME as Cindy or would I have been some other me? We'll never know. If you'd named yourself, who would you be?

Pork Chop, Cookie and Roy

I hope the title caught your attention. Names are important, aren't they? I mean, when people find out you're having a child, one of the first things they ask is "Do you have names picked out?" What your parents rarely get to pick is what people actually call you. I'm not just talking about Eddie instead of Edward. I mean not-your-name nicknames - these fall into two groups, "Things" and "other names". Things are, well, things - not names. Like Bunny, Pumpkin and Spike. "Other names", are the ones that aren't really your name, but are still a name - Babs, Butch, Smitty, etc. The reason this comes to mind is that Coworker Tim and I recently named another coworker "Pork Chop". Pork Chop is a very nice lady who comes in twice a week and complains that our company has no money. She shares a given name with a woman who Tim and I are not particularly fond of. When we discuss the second woman, Pork Chop was getting perturbed, thinking we were talking about her. So, we decided (more me and Tim) that she needed a nickname. Thus, if we say <real name deleted> we don't mean her, and if we say "Pork Chop" we do. I think it's cute and fun, and she's not fat, so it's not a piggy joke. We'd suggested "Bubbles" which she flat out rejected, and then, when I suggested "Cookie" (it must have been nearing lunch), she balked - "It's someone else's nickname." Me: "Everything is someone else's nickname." After much prodding, Pork Chop's admits that her husband's friends call him Cookie, and she doesn't know why. I can't believe this. If someone called the Husband "Cookie", I'd sure as heckfire know why, and possibly before agreeing to marry him. But she won't even guess. Once she'd admitted this bizarre and personal fact, she was so flustered that when Tim said "How about Pork Chop?" She readily agreed. I hope it sticks. I have a history of giving people nicknames that stick, including Roy who is actually a woman named Amy. Good nicknames have a good story, and are something you can live with being called. I won't tell you the story of Roy here, it's already getting too long, and I also could share a funny story for a guy named Huff and a really "needs work" story for Sparky. My Phi Sigma Pi nickname was "Frieda" (which never really stuck) - props to anyone who can figure out why. Someday I'll discuss the pain of having a name that IS a nickname. . . .