Aging, Community, Curiosity, Family Dynamics, Grief, Life, Reading, Spirituality, Wisdom, Work, Writing

Not To Be Morbid or Anything

1 Comment

One of the tasks I am responsible for at work is checking the obituaries. We have an Excel spread sheet that is used to track the vital information: name, city, date of birth, date of death. We do this so that we remain aware of who has passed in our county. That way, if it happens to be a client, volunteer, or donor, we can ensure a sympathy card goes out in the mail and/or a name is taken off our mailing list, lest a widow or widower receives a solicitation from our organization in the mail with their deceased spouse’s name on it.

Some obits are short and to the point, not revealing much about the deceased beyond who preceded them in death and who from their earthly orbit is left to mourn their loss. These trigger my imagination. I ponder what the reasons could have been for these sparsely worded obits. Perhaps the deceased was not well-liked by their family? Or maybe, perhaps even worse, not well-known? Or perhaps they were so beloved that their loved ones just couldn’t put their heads around how to even begin to express their love for them in writing, momentarily emotionally paralyzed by their grief.

I suppose a percentage of the obits I read are written by paid professionals, though I can’t know for sure. It makes me wonder what information is requested of the families by the writer to allow them to create a tribute to the dearly departed that accurately captures who they were in life. What a sacred thing to be entrusted with.

Often, it seems, in particular with elderly females that have passed, the newly deceased are described in their obits as being “selfless”. I understand for those penning these obits this is high praise, but I can’t help but wonder if these “selfless” women actually got to enjoy their one and only precious lives at all. Or were they just too busy making sure everyone else was taken care of to do any taking care of themselves? No doubt this is a result of both the patriarchy and the generation these folks came up in.

One trend that I’ve noticed in these obituaries, which occurred on Mr. NOA’s side of the family (his maternal grandmother), is that folks are not always having funerals, or even “celebrations of life”. Often, it’s stated in the obits that this is per the deceased wishes.

I don’t get this at all. Funerals and “celebrations of life” are for the living. They are for the people who are devastated that you have passed on from this earthly sphere. Honestly, I think it’s selfish. However, I do understand a person not wanting to have an open casket when their family is having a funeral. I think that’s where Mr. NOA’s grandma was coming from; she didn’t want people looking at her lifeless body in a casket. I don’t want that either. I say cremate me, have a big ‘ol party and listen to my favorite songs.

Some obituaries are so beautifully written and with enough detail to make me wish I had known the person. Like the woman who had a dog named “George Michael Bluth“. I think she was an educator and loved to garden. Or the man who woke his children up by singing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” at the top of his lungs every day.

There are times when the obits I read are of people who were not elderly. The ones whose lives were cut very short by a sudden medical emergency, accident, or cancer diagnoses. It brings it home for me that life is so fleeting and any control we think we have in how it’s going to end is delusional. It makes me feel like I want to take my life more seriously. Not take myself more seriously, mind you. Just life. Recognizing that each day I get is one to enjoy and appreciate.

I struggled a bit to find the right song to end this blog post with. As an elder Gen Xer, my brain kept returning to the first sad song I remember hearing as a kid, Seasons in the Sun by Terry Jacks. My sister had it on an old ’45 that I could play on my little plastic turntable back in about 1975. When I checked YouTube, I was surprised to learn that Nirvana recorded their own version of this song. Seems fitting to me.

So if you could use a good cry…enjoy?

ADHD, Anxiety, Emotions, Life, Mental Health, Overthinking, Psychology

This Darn Twitch

5 Comments

I am sick of the twitch in my left eye.

This annoying twitch comes about when I’m overstimulated, or when my brain is rapid-fire running through scenarios in my head where, for instance, the response I’m waiting for from someone is the most awful I can imagine. Or I’m gearing up to tell someone something I’m scared to tell them. Or when my must-be-planning-something-all-the-time-brain is in overdrive (which is often). Or when two people are talking to me at the same time.

Can anyone relate to this whatsoever?

This twitch of which I speak, I wonder: could it be related to my thus-far undiagnosed ADHD? After reflecting on my ways of being around other people ever since forever, along with recent commentary from two of my dearest family members, I’ve decided once and for alI to get the testing done. I saw my new primary care provider last month and she is referring me to another provider who does ADD/ADHD testing. For the longest time, despite suspecting I have it, I’ve had the attitude of “well, so what am I going to do with that information if I test ‘positive'”? Part of me still feels that way. In spite of that, I’m moving forward with it. Because I figure it’ll help me, whether I have ADHD or not, to understand my weirdness better. And if I do have it, perhaps I can learn tips and tricks that will help me function better in the world. Or get on meds that will chill me out.

It occurred to me recently, after not keeping a running to-do list for a week or so, that I feel so much better when I have a to-do list in progress at all times. It’s like a trick that helps to keep me on track. And it further occurred to me that the reason my to-do lists have proven so beneficial to me personally is because of my alleged ADHD.

Members of my family agree with me that my mom, Bonnie, most certainly had ADHD all her life, though she was never officially diagnosed. She was very high-energy, extraordinarily chatty, easily distracted, and was forever making to-do lists (like me). Bonnie always, always, had to have something to do. And if she was merely taking a breather between, say, ironing everyone’s clothes in our little kitchen, and baking some goodies, her fingers would be tapping out a tune on the table in front of her, or she’d be humming a song to herself.

Bonnie isn’t the only family member with ADHD either. There’s lots of examples of it throughout my family tree. There must be a hereditary component to it, right?

It stands to reason that I would fall somewhere on the ADD/ADHD spectrum. We shall see. I just need to get over the angst I feel at the thought of scheduling the appointment.

Wait, is that another clue that I have it? The angst over scheduling this (or any) appointment?

In any case, I sure hope this twitch hits the bricks soon.

Any way I slice it, I know that some mental health support will be beneficial for me in this season of my life where things feel heavier than usual and my brain feels overloaded. The song I’m sharing to cap off this week’s post does a good job of capturing where my head is at these days.

4th of July, America, Americana Music, Blogging, Community, Faith, Memories, Mental Health, Voting

Happy Birthday, America

4 Comments

Happy Birthday to you, America, I guess.

Please forgive me for not feeling as enthusiastic about your special day as I did when you turned 200.

Of course, at the time, I was 9 years-old, living a safe, somewhat sheltered, comfortable life with my family in a small town in northern Minnesota. I rode my red, white, and blue bike in the 4th of July parade that year. Carefree and happy to celebrate you with my family and friends.

Let’s just say I’m conflicted about celebrating your birthday this time around. On one hand, I grieve for you and what you have become on account of three things: greed, hatred, and fear. On the other hand, I’m pissed at you. You got played so hard by our current administration and their allies and associates. Decisions you made and “truths” you were groomed to believe have put us in one hell of a mess.

Your flag, which is the greatest physical manifestation of who you are (next to the Statue of Liberty) has been used and abused by those seeking power over you and yours. You’ve allowed it to become sullied. Disrespected.

The people that thought you up are long gone now, but surely the state you are currently in was not their vision.

It’s time for you, (and me and you and you, and you), to start taking you more seriously and stop taking you for granted. One could argue it’s past time.

I can only speak for myself, but there are things that can be done to put you on the right track. Speaking up and speaking out in ways that feel authentic, staying informed about current events and sharing what you learn with others, and voting for candidates that most closely align with American values, like civil liberties and justice for all.

(Yes, I am a proud card-carrying member of the ACLU and you, my kind and smart readers, ought to consider financially supporting this vital organization).

My hope is that when you turn 251 next year, you will be in much better shape. I hope by then you will have weathered the storm that began in earnest in 1980 (with the election of Ronald Reagan) and picked up speed in 2025. That you will finally have realized in your soul that when we work together, we all benefit.

We can pause the news cycle to sit down and look at each other and figure out the best ways to get you in better shape. So you can continue on and be there, in all your glory, for generations to come. We must shine our brightest lights to lead the way for you to become who you were intended to be: a place where people are all on equal footing, the air and water is clean, tyrants are not tolerated, and other countries like yourself trust and believe in you.

Because I believe in you still.

As Senator Paul Wellstone from Minnesota said: “We all do better when we all do better”.

With Sincerity,

An American Woman

The song I’m sharing today is a cover of a famous Woody Guthrie song, which I think all of you are familiar with. The cover is done by an American rock band that I’m starting to dig more and more these days, My Morning Jacket.

Do yourself a favor and stop what you’re doing and revel in this masterpiece of a song, a loving ode to America.

Flower Gardens, Grandparenting, Gratitude, Intentionality, Lifestyle, Minnesconsin, Simplicity, Summer

8 Simple Summer Delights

2 Comments

One of the many things I love about living in Minnesconsin is that there are 4 distinct seasons. This is not the case in every part of the U.S. or other countries, for that matter.

Historically, I’ve thought of fall as being my favorite season. Not too hot, and not too cold. Or spring, when new life is beginning to bloom, the grass is starting to green up, and we all know that summer is on the horizon. Winter, I’m not too fond of.

But summer is something else. I especially appreciate it after a cooler than usual spring this year.

Do you live in a place that has distinct seasons?

There are so many sweet little delights about the summer season in my mind.

My top 8:

  1. That feeling of exhiliration that comes when you emerge from a jump into a cold lake. How your heart beats so fast. How the sun’s rays feel on your wet skin, like a hug from the universe.
  2. Spontaneous ice-cream runs. I recently discovered smores flavored ice cream at our local general store. So decadent!
  3. Running through sprinklers on a hot, humid day. I recently bought a new one to enjoy in the yard on hot days with our grandsons. I’m hoping to put it to use next weekend when we celebrate the youngest’s first birthday.
  4. The lovely, peaceful beauty I get to enjoy on my drive to work in the mornings. The little country road with a lots of curves and dips, surrounded on either side by lush vegetation is a really pleasant way to start my day.
  5. Flowers. I’ve got a new one I am totally in love with. I’ve never seen anything like it. Daisies in various shades of yellow, orange, and red. And there’s our butterfly garden, which is slightly unkempt but wild and beautiful nonetheless.
  6. Speaking of flowers, the smell of lilacs is absolutely delightful to me. We planted a couple of lilac trees in our butterfly garden last summer, but they failed to bloom. Mr. NOA recently replanted one of them in a different spot and it seems to like it there quite a bit. No blooming yet, but thankfully the smell of our neighbors lilacs wafts our way when the wind is right.
  7. Going to Farmer’s Markets. There is the one we typically go to on summer Saturday mornings, but there’s a couple of other ones nearby on different days that I have yet to check out. I adore soaking in the energy and sense of community found in these spaces.
  8. Dining al fresco. Whether on our little deck or at one of our local restaurants with outdoor seating, sipping a refreshing beverage and breaking bread with others in the open air is a true delight.

Please share in the comments what your special summer delights are!

To cap this little blog post off today, here’s a song that is all about sweet summer vibes. Enjoy, and Happy Summer!

Celebration, family, Grandparenting, Lifestyle, Love, marriage, Minnesconsin, Parenthood

M.O.B. Diaries: The After

6 Comments

A large sigh of relief came out of me the Sunday after last, upon returning from our overnight in a hotel following our daughter’s wedding.

The whole event went very well. Though it was hot outside at about 80 degrees, no rain poured down from the skies. Our daughter looked beautiful and everyone was happy to be there to celebrate the love between our daughter and son-in-law.

Highlights:

Seeing the groomsmen volunteer to help get Mr. NOA’s parents out of their vehicle and into their seats in the front row, then helping them up and into the vehicle when the ceremony was over. Our son-in-law danced a bit with my MIL to “Everlasting Love” as it blasted from the speakers before she was helped into the vehicle to head to the reception. I would love for someone to have caught that on video, but regardless it will remain a cherished memory for all of us who witnessed it.

My daughter pulling out her vows (turns out wedding dresses have pockets these days!) that she had, the day prior, typed up and printed at our house, and reading them aloud to her beloved for all to hear got me teared up. My son-in-law tossing the box the wedding rings came in into the woods behind the officiant felt really special to me. It was a gesture that symbolized him being done for good with his bachelor era and committing to forever with our daughter.

Our 12-year-old grandson spontaneously saying “I love you, Grandma” as the two of us were taking apart the photo backdrop at the end of the reception warmed my heart so much. Watching him run around, dancing and playing with the other kids (including his best friend) at the reception made my heart happy. Knowing how much this kid has gone through in his young life on account of his bio dad and seeing him being authentically happy and carefree is just everything to me. I’m so looking forward to the fun we’re going to have with him this summer here in Minnesconsin.

And that baby. He hardly fussed the entire time. He had his two other grandmas, along with me, a groomsman, two of my girlfriends and more cuddling him throughout the entire event. When we got to the hotel when the night was over, it was a simple “here’s your bottle kiddo” and before I knew it he was out like a light. Waking up next to an almost one-year-old in the morning is quite the delight, I discovered. Sing-songy, studying and playing with my hand and trying to put his hand in my mouth was how we started that morning.

Witnessing the beaming couple take to the dance floor as if they were truly the only two people in the room. Or on the planet really. So sweet and romantic.

Not that the whole day didn’t have a few snafus here and there. Like when I lost my footing while carrying the baby and not so gingerly plopped him in his wagon, leading him to cry as the first of the wedding party began their descent towards the alter.

Or when some of the guests overserved themselves at the bar and created a bit of a ruckus, spouting off their unsolicited opinions and being generally obnoxious. Not that any of that isn’t to be expected at a family wedding though, right?

It was perfectly imperfect.

At the risk of sounding unoriginal or like a cliche, I’d say that our daughter’s wedding was a beautiful example of “framily”. The blending of biological and non-biological family members and friends. All to witness the beginning of a marriage between soulmates. A day that we will all remember with fondness and love.

I have great hopes that this event is just the first of many spent with our new extended “framily”.

A few pics from this monumental day:

Now to share a gorgeous collaboration between Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees and Brandi Carlile. I recommend you turn up the volume and just marinate in this beauty.

Anxiety, family, gardening, Grandparenting, Lifestyle, Love, marriage, Motherhood, Summer

Before the Wedding: M.O.B. Diaries

5 Comments

My daughter’s wedding is on Saturday. Mr. NOA and I had our wedding anniversary to celebrate and grandsons to love on last weekend. Summer is now here and I’m filled with joy about beautifying our outdoor space. Life is just humming along for us here in Minnesconsin.

Here’s a few pics of what we have going on thus far.

As mother-of-the-bride, I’ve got a bit of anxiety about how this whole shindig is going to unfold. I’m worried about what state the farm where the ceremony is taking place is going to be in. I haven’t seen it in person yet, only a few pictures. I’m worried that accessing the precise spot where the ceremony is will be difficult because as I understand it, there’s a little hill to get down to it. I’m worried baby will cry his head off as he’s being pulled in his bedazzled-by-Grandma-and-Grandpa-wagon by his oldest brother. I’m worried it’ll be pouring rain and not everyone will fit into the barn for the ceremony.

For months now, my brain has been tuned into the wedding.com channel, so to speak. More recently I’m zigzagging between being super stoked for this momentous occasion to yearning for the time when it’s over and I can relax. It’s quite the rollercoaster.

I have a few small things to put together and remember to not forget, as there are grandkids I, along with Mr. NOA, are responsible for (not that we won’t have volunteers pitching in). And there are chin hairs to pluck and nails to trim and legs to shave. Cards and checks to sign, framed photos of loved ones to gather for the memorial display, and no doubt lists to make.

So many things could go wrong. Or go completely different than expected. So many things could go right, too. And probably will. Both wrong and right.

Yikes! I’m so wound up.

Worrying isn’t going to get me anywhere. Intellectually, I know it’s best for me to surrender and focus on what I can do, what I can control (which is not as much as I’d like it to be).

Because this is going to be a beautiful day, no matter how it all pans out. Beautiful because my daughter found her one and only who treats her with the care she deserves. Beautiful because two families are coming together as one in support of both of them and their future. Beautiful because we are all pitching in here and there, doing our parts to make it a wonderful day.

Wish us all luck and I’ll check in when I’m on the other side of this.

For your musical enjoyment, here’s a song I find terribly romantic and sent to my daughter as a possible bride/groom song to dance to but I didn’t tell her that directly because I didn’t want to sound like my mother, who was the architect of our wedding, when Mr. NOA and I were but babes. Our daughter is 10 years older than I was when we got married, has an established career and 3 kids so even if I was okay with sounding like my mother in this scenario, it wouldn’t get me very far.

And I couldn’t be prouder of my daughter for that.

Americana Music, Community, Gratitude, Joy, Live Concerts

Brandi Carlile by a Mile

1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
What is the best concert you have been to?
View all responses

That is my answer.

My husband and I were at her show in Minneapolis in February of this year.

From start to finish, we were blown away. I was thrilled to hear Brandi and her band play my favorites, like “The Story”, “You and Me on the Rock”, and “The Joke”. I was surprised and delighted when Brandi covered “Uninvited” by Alanis Morrisette, and when she brought out the opening act, an awesome band in its own right, The Head and the Heart, to sing Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida”, to when she told the story of when she met Elton John, after having idolized him since she was a kid.

Brandi shared the impetus for the lyrics in her song “War with Time”. It came from her previous perspective as a young woman leaving the nest for the first time juxtaposed with her perspective as a mom to a daughter in the current who will naturally do the same before she knows it. You know, the emotional push and pull that goes along with all motherhood and daughterhood.

And Sista Strings and the Twins? Putting them all on one stage, complimenting each other’s musical skill sets and working as a team, infused with joy throughout. Chef’s Kiss.

As it was not long after ICE thugs murdered Renee Good and Alex Pretti in Minneapolis that this show took place, Brandi gave a lot of love to the crowd in appreciation for the courage shown by the citizens of Minneapolis in the face of that. At the end of the show, she invited the Singing Resistance onto the stage who led us all in a song with the rallying cry “It’s Okay to Change Your Mind“, which was what they sang at the ICE officers during Metro Surge as an act of political non-violent activism.

I’ve never been to a concert that felt more like community in my life. Brandi Carlile is not only a gifted, dynamic songwriter, performer and musician, but she is also a builder of community. She is a national treasure.

I’ll sign off with a song of Brandi’s that I love so very much that she didn’t play at this concert. I hope you enjoy!

Arts and Crafts, Creativity, Home Decor, Imagination, Inspiration, Lifestyle, Repurposing, Thrifting

Re-Re-Re: Purposing, Entry Number 8

2 Comments

As I’ve rekindled a serious obsession in the last 6 months or so with arts and crafts (a natural by-product of my participation in The Artist’s Way group last fall), I am a very eager student of repurposing.

Repurposing aligns with a phrase I’ve always appreciated: “Necessity is the mother of invention”. Like those inevitable moments in our lives when we don’t have what we think we need or don’t have access to what we think we need, we improvise. We take a look around and see what’s there, right in front of us. What can be used in a pinch. Repurposing really appeals to my interests in both creating and problem-solving.

I recently discovered a new t.v. show, “That Thrifting Show”, hosted by Lara Spencer. It’s a competition reality show on Hulu that has two teams of two people competing for who can do a better job designing a room using exclusively thrifted items, with a budget of $2000. I love seeing the thrill of the hunt for treasures and what the design teams do with them once they’re back in the warehouse to put their rooms together. A lot of times they upcycle items they thrift. One time a team painted leather dining chairs purple. Lara’s special room which she has filled with treasures she has personally thrifted is the stuff of my daydreams.

Repurposing, however, is not limited to finding thrifted items and upcycling them. I say this not only because it’s true, but because while upcycling excites my creative spirit, I don’t have a ton of personal experience with it. This is on account of the time constraints of life coupled with fear that I’ll bite off more than I can chew (I have a special talent for that-or maybe it’s undiagnosed ADHD?).

Yet, there’s lots of simple ways we can repurpose things, like:

  • Using plastic bags from the store to line garbage cans or to carry lunch to work in.
  • Affixing googly-eyes or using a Sharpie to create finger puppets out of old winter gloves to entertain babies.
  • Taking discarded wrapping paper and framing it to create a one-of-a-kind piece of art.

Or, going much deeper, other “things” can be repurposed, right? Such as:

  • A personal blog
  • A shed
  • A career

Putting this in black and white gives me much, much food for thought.

But I digress.

What say you all about the notion of repurposing? Do you think about arts and crafts or furniture, or do you think of simpler, day-to-day things that could be repurposed? Or do you think it’s more interesting to ponder more substantial things, like how your life could be repurposed in some way, shape, or form?

I repurposed the tissue paper flowers made by my in-laws (what a beautiful part they played by doing this) for decorating the venue of our daughter’s wedding shower (put on by my gem of a SIL). There were so many left over! I brought them into work to decorate our offices, for my co-worker give them to her granddaughters to play with, and/or to use as decorations for our annual volunteer appreciation party in June. I just couldn’t bear to toss them in the garbage.

Aren’t they pretty?

Naturally, I’m going to choose a song to cap this last-in-my-re-re-re series blog post by sharing a cover of a tune. One that was excellent in its original form but got repurposed and given new life by some really talented singers and musicians. Please share in the comments any songs you love that have been respectfully repurposed by other artists.

America, American Politics, Anxiety, Creative Writing, Fashion, GenX, Optimism, Psychology, Words

Re-Re-Re: Considering Red, Number 7

14 Comments

Today’s entry is a pondering of yet another word that begins with “re”, my favorite prefix.

That word is “reconsider“. What comes up in your mind when you read this word? Perhaps something you might want to reconsider? A chance to go back and change your mind about trying something? To “un-chicken out”?

This fall, I put myself in the most uncomfortable position by participating in my first virtual writer’s meet-up. Let me tell you, there’s a reason you don’t see me posting videos of myself giving you advice or telling you all what I think about something. I am an absolute mess when it comes to having to use my actual literal voice to interact with others. I get so freaking nervous. And my messiness is a good 800% higher when this interaction is with people I don’t know IRL.

But, I got through it. I perservered. And I was witness to a story told by another participant in which she relayed a recent experience she had while wandering through Paris (she was living there on a short term basis with her husband-how cool is that?). She focused on being present while meandering through the streets of gay Paris, and she said she noticed the funniest thing: the color red. It seemed to pop up everywhere, and in particular, in the pants worn by Parisians. It completely delighted her. And her telling of this story in turn delighted me.

That got me thinking more deeply about the symbolism of the color red. Like the MAGA movement and how this faction of the American populace has claimed this color as part of their brand (of course this began with the Republican party, like the Dems have comandeered the color blue). I hate those dumb red ball caps I sometimes see people wear that bear the catchphrase borrowed from the Reagan era by the Trump crowd. I cringe inside as I process the disappointment I feel in humanity when some fool opts to wear one of these ridiculous ball caps in public spaces. Fortunately, sightings of these red ball caps are few and far between these days as fans of the President are becoming more disillusioned every day.

But obviously there’s more to the color red than a political party and movement that doesn’t align with my values, so I’m going to reconsider it.

I recently heard someone say that red is a color that is universally flattering (depending of course on the undertones). And then there were the red hats I saw online worn by people in Minneapolis protesting against ICE’s Metro Surge. These were a different sort of red hat though-a knitted hat that’s pattern originated in Norway (hey-my DNA results say I’m 4% Norwegian!). They were worn by Nazi resisters when Nazis occupied Norway in the early 40’s. And then there’s the warmer shade of red seen in tomatoes I am eager to get started in the new raised bed garden Mr. NOA plans to build this spring. And that cheery red rose bush we planted last spring, which, before long, will be blooming. There really is a lot to appreciate about the color red.

Isn’t it fascinating to think of the ways in which particular colors evoke emotions and psychological responses? Check out this interesting article I found about the psychology of color. What thoughts and feelings come up when you consider the color red?

I’m off to see what options I may find for red pants online now.

I will leave you with a song I heard a few nights ago, on https://www.thecurrent.org/, while I was working on this blog post. I share it because I think it’s fan-freaking tastic but also because I thought “Red Rain” by Peter Gabriel was a bit dark for this conversation and “99 Luft (Red) Balloons” is just not on my highlight reel of songs from my youth in the 80s.

So, just stop and listen to this one. It’s fire!, as (I think) the kids say.

Creative Writing, Dogs, Humor, Imagination, Names

Re-Re-Re-Re-Re-Re: Number 6 about My Favorite Prefix

7 Comments

As a person who is keenly interested in discussing names and playing around with them, I was very amused by an episode of “Good Hang with Amy Poehler”. She interviewed Mike Schurr, the guy who, among other things, created my beloved “Parks and Recreation”. The two laughed about how it was Mike’s practice to come up with names for every single character in a scene. It didn’t sit right with him that the actors who made the trip across Los Angeles to work for one day on the set where they maybe had one line, to not have a name. You know, something other than “lady in clicking heels” or “male friend of other man in blue shirt who butts in line”

Of course, because they wanted to avoid being sued for using a real person’s name, they had to get creative. They had someone in the legal department regularly checking online to ensure that there was no record of anyone with the name Mike was choosing for that character. What fun that must have been, coming up with all of these names!

If you haven’t guessed it yet, the word I’m focusing on for this entry in my series about my favorite prefix of “re” is renaming.

Our dog, Radar, was named Leroy when he adopted us. This was not his original name, as the staff at the shelter he wound up at in Houston as a puppy, called him Leroy. But he wasn’t a Leroy to me. The name Leroy conjured up that old song from the 70s, “Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown”. But our Leroy was not bad. He was rambunctious for certain, but definitely not a bad dog.

We started calling him Ringo. That lasted about a week. Mr. NOA and I had been going back and forth about what we were going to name him during that span of time, and one night he suggested we name our boy Doppler. Did I mention Mr. NOA is trained as a meteorologist? I countered with the name Radar. And that was that.

If I had to choose a new name for our other GSD mix mutt, Dash, it would for certain be Tigger. When he’s outside, he jumps and pounces with glee and joy in his little puppy heart. It is the cutest thing ever. I can’t wait to get outside with him once it warms up more so Mr. NOA and I can try agility training with him. I think this dog is made for it.

A former co-worker of mine was named Mari (originally pronounced Mary). Yet, she preferred to be called “Marr-ee”. I thought that was so quirky. She told me that she answered to both pronounciations of her name, so sometimes I would teasingly call her “Mary-Marr-ee”. She was a good sport about it.

Sometimes people we know and love, or those we admire from afar surprise us by changing their names. I have zero tolerance for those folks on social media who insist on commenting that they refuse to refer to the name-changer using their preferred name. That, to me, is so childish. Not to mention disrespectful. If a person chooses to change their name, for whatever reason, the only option in my mind is to respect it. Because it’s not about us at all. Purposefully choosing to use a person’s original name against their wishes helps no one and does not change the fact that this person now has a new name.

Someone we are all familiar with has a penchant for renaming things to include his name. I’m looking forward to the day (and I do believe it will come) when someone new and actually competent will be in charge and can rename these things. These institutions.

How about you? What’s your take on renaming things, people, pets, whatever? Or maybe you’ve got a story to tell about renaming something or someone? Please share in the comments!

Here’s a sweet tune from that one-of-a kind band with a most unusual name, “ABBA”.