Can you guess how many entries I made in the wordpress.com name line before one was accepted? A LOT. Words, phrases, nicknames that seem so personal to ME have already been used by people who are NOT me.
I experienced a similar situation fifteen years ago when I ordered my vanity plates, I was granted MARYL8. Because SEVEN MaryL’s got to it before I did. As someone who is chronically prompt, I was hesistant to commit to Mary Late, but since my birthday is on the 8th, and heaven forbid by the time I reapplied they be up to MARYL37 (no numerical affiliation), I commited.
Commiting to a name is a big decision. I would like people to read this, enjoy it, tell their friends– and the link should be easy to remember, right? I tried to be clever, I tried to be tricky, I tried to be obvious– all taken.
When I was born, my parents were expecting a boy. They had a name selected, Eric Hayes. When I emerged into this world, not a boy, I’m not sure why they didn’t just go with the obvious Erica, but instead chose to name me after my Grandmothers. My mom’s mom was Emma Frances, my dad’s mom was Mary Lou. Now, there was a time when I could tell this story and get the reaction I was seeking– back in the 70’s and 80’s, for instance. I would say, “so the choice was either Mary Frances or Emma Lou.” Back in the day people would agree with me that I got the better end of that deal. Then, in the 90’s, Emma’s popularity TOOK OFF. All of a sudden, I’m telling my story and I’m getting pitiful glances and nods! Nothing against Emmas, some of my kids’ best friends are Emmas, some of my friend’s best kids are Emmas, but, hello, I am SO a Mary.
A Mary Frances, to be exact. Or, in the clever case of my blog posts, Mary Fran Says.
(I assume future blogs will address my obsession with letters, words, and sounds. I hope you’ll check in and check them out.)