My mother calls me “George”.
We’ve had a cat named “Puppy”, a Mustang “Sally”, and a “Charlie” horse.
I have a pair of stuffed animal racoons from high school days dubbed “Smokey” and “Bandit”.
My iPod is named “Soma” after the addictive drug in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. Kevin named his “Life Support”.
You already know about the cow called “Patty” and her offspring, “Slider”, and the two calves christened “Norman” and “Mailer”.
For her 4th birthday my daughter received her first Barbie. She could have named her Buffy or Ariel or Jessica, but instead, she chose the prettiest name she knew: LEONARD.
Our vehicles have had the following names:
“Stella!!!” (An ‘old lady’ Buick)
“Tank the Sable Tooth” (The 1992 white Mercury)
“Fiona” (The green monster Taurus)
“Armadillo” (Kevin’s little gray Dodge)
“Lucille” (Kacey’s current van because, and I quote, “She drives like she’s drunk and she’s always kind of angry and loud.)
And, of course, my beloved “Eddie van Honda” Odyssey.
My kids answer to “Daughter-Face” and “Kevie-Poo”. And Mayah and Charlotte are affectionately known as “Yaya” and “Latte”.
But of all the weirdly-named things in our little world, my favorite was Kevin’s first Beanie Baby. It was a lobster, which, as a preschooler, he pronounced “lomster” and christened it with the biggest word in his little vocabulary: APPARENTLY.
she said 