The Name Game: A Turtle Week

What was that horrid sound that stretched from Friday through Wednesday?

It was like. . .like gears grinding to a sad and tragic halt.

What have you people been doing all week? Where are the names?

But Amanda kicked it back into gear with a submission on Wednesday. She wrote:

Amy, got a few more names for you. I realized you said you don't listen to
kids' music and then it hit me! More names! I am in love with Laurie Berkner
and her unbelievable voice. I have to admit, I leave her CDs playing in the
car when there aren't any kids riding with me! She is fantastic! I'm smitten.

Anyway, she's got some male names for you. You ready?Joe
(I see you have Joey, not sure if this counts) [AP!: Afraid it doesn't, as
we've been counting derivatives and their originating names as one]

From Candy Cane JaneFreddie: From Victor Vito
(and there's a second Victor while I'm at it!)

The rest all come from the same song...her
version of "The More We Get Together":

Tobie
Andrew
Owusu (I checked, this is a guy)
So there's another five for you.

Tell you what: I like it. I like it a lot.

I like how Amanda did the research to discover that Owusu is a guy's name. And I like even more--because it's a lesson to the rest of us--how she accessed music she knew she was familiar while supposing that many others are not. That is, she thought through to the "deep cut."

No one here minds that she listens to children's music when there are no children around.

So let's all take a lesson from the "deep cut." It's time to mine the recordings in our posession that might not be too well known and/or that we ourselves don't often listen to.

I did this myself this week. I listened to U2's All That You Can't Leave Behind, a CD with many excellent tracts such that the lesser ones are lesser to me. As I listened to "Peace On Earth," a song I admittedly skip over often, I heard these names:

Sean
Garreth

Products of a deep cut.

This gives us

Andrew

Toby

Vito

Owusu

Garreth

Sean

6 Names. Steady progress. Mostly thanks to Amanda. Our current total now:

1. Abie
2. Adam
3. Al (taken as different from Albert, because it might be short for Alan)
4. Albert
5. Alex
6. Amadeus
7. Andy
8. Anthony
9. Austin
10. Ben(nie)
11. Bernie
12. Bill(y)
13. Bob(by)
14. Brady
15. Branigan
16. Brian
17. Buddy
18. Cadigan
19. Cain
20. Casper
21. Charles(Charlie)
22. Chester
23. Chris
24. Cletus
25. Connely
26. Daniel
27. Davy
28. Dean
29. Diego
30. Donnely
31. Dooley
32. Duffy
33. Duke
34. Earl
35. Eddie
36. Eli
37. ElRoy
38. Elvis
39. Ezekiel
40. Felix
41. Fernando
42. Flanahan
43. Flannigan
44. Flynn
45. Fogarty
46. Frank
47. Franklin
48. Fred
49. Gabriel
50. Galileo
51. Garreth
52. Gene
53. George
54. Gilligan
55. Gus
56. Hagen
57. Harry
58. Henry
59. Hogarty
60. Jack
61. Jed
62. Jeremiah
63. Jeremy
64. Jerry
65. Jessie
66. Jesus
67. Jim/James
68. Joey
69. John(ny)
70. Jonas
71. Jose
72. Juan
73. Jude
74. Julio
75. Kelly
76. Kenneth
77. Lafferty
78. Lanahan
79. Lawrence
80. Lazarus
81. Lee
82. Lenny
83. Leonard
84. Leonid
85. Leroy
86. Lester
87. Levon
88. Lloyd
89. Louie
90. Luka
91. Luke
92. Madigan
93. MaGinn
94. Mahone
95. Malachy
96. Malcolm
97. Malone
98. Manahan
99. Manny
100. Marciano
101. Marty
102. Marvin
103. Maurice
104. Max
105. McGuffy
106. McGuinness
107. Michael
108. Micky
109. Milligan
110. Monty
111. Moses
112. Muldowney
113. Napoleon
114. O'Fagan
115. O'Hooley
116. O'Houlihan
117. O'Kelly
118. Ollie (perhaps not always a derivative of Oliver)
119. Oliver
120. Owusu
121. Pablo
122. Paul
123. Peter
124. Pherb
125. Phinnas
126. Rafferty
127. Rasputin
128. Rene
129. Richard
130. Ricky
131. Rico
132. Robin
133. Roland
134. Romeo
135. Ronnie
136. Roy
137. Sam
138. Sean
139. Shanahan
140. Silas
141. Stan
142. Sue
143. Thomson
144. Tim
145. Toby
146. Tom(my)
147. Tony
148. Tuck
149. Ulysses
150. Victor
151. Vincent
152. Vito
153. Walter
154. Wayne
155. Whelan
156. Willie
157. Wyatt

Oh! I went to update the list and saw that we have "Andy," so "Andrew" is not new. So we had 5 this week, not 6.

OK. This is OK. Slow and steady finishes the race, folks! Let's harvest some names this week!

Them Song Thursday: To Live is to Fly

I'm a huge fan of the Cowboy Junkies. The lead singer has a gorgeous voice, their main song writer is brilliant, and those two plus one other are brothers and sister, making them one of the great family bands of all time.

I saw them in concert once and they sounded terrific live. So many of their songs are mellow and lovely, they can't help but sound romantic. And, as I was single at the time of this concert, I remember feeling very lonely. Maybe I should try to catch them now that Bryan can take me.

This song, "To Live is to Fly" was written by someone else. And this live version is with only a guitar whereas the studio version is full-band and wonderful. But this is all that was posted on YouTube.

It has been a theme song of mine for a long, long time. Between graduating from college and this past year, I had never lived in one state for more than 2 years. So yeah, to live was to fly.

Now that we've been here for 3 years, and hope to be here for several more, I'm beginning to feel a little nostalgic for the flying-life. But we can take this song to be metaphoric, and while in one place, living still requires flying.

Days up and down they come
Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
But don't turn none away

Everything is not enough
Nothing is too much to bear
Where you've been is good and gone
All you keep is the getting there

One of the things I am coming to love about the Springs is that there is so much to do with my family. We could have a different adventure every weekend if we had the energy and time for it.

Labor Day weekend is the Hot Air Balloon Festival, a free event in Memorial Park. We left the house at 5:45 AM. This balloon was the demonstrator. People could ask questions of the crew and see the basket up close. We spent a bit of time by it as we waited for the other balloons to get up because the fire put off so much heat, it was the one warm spot in the whole park.















The sun came up and we had a little breakfast snack on our blanket as we watched the crews spread out and blow up.

Gemma refused to smile because she was so cold. This is the best she could muster. I was warm because I was wearing a wig. Normally, according to wig policy, this would have been a hat activity. But because we left so early and I knew it would take a while to warm up, my choice was between my arctic fleece hat and a wig. Worked out just fine.

Last time we went, we parked ourselves on a hill and watched the balloons from the edge of the park. This time, we walked in and among them. They stood up and took off all around us.

We almost got hit by this one. But, just as in the movies, hot air balloons don't travel very fast, so we were able to get out of the way.

Additional pics:

The kids right before we left for church. Bryan looked at Gemma and said, "Is she going to wear all that?" Yes. Yes, she was and she did.

Finally, Gemma and Joshua found the corn stalks Bryan had pulled out in order to thin the crop out. They gathered them, gave them a "haircut" with their scissors, tied them up with ribbon and then included it in whatever game they were make-believing.

I don't know why we spend money on toys.

Wig It

I didn't post on Saturday nor Monday. This is mostly because the weather has been gorgeous and I'm feeling great. I'd rather take the opportunity to do things under these circumstances than sit at the computer.

The upside is that I have a lot of photos to show you from our weekend.

But before I get to all that, it's time for the Big Reveal: Amy!'s Wigs. I've mentioned them. Now you get to see them.

And before we get to that, a few comments on wigs:

It is crazy how many wigs are for sale online. Racquel Welch has her own line, and that alone features 74 selections. Look at this! That's a lot of wigs, and on this site, hers is only one of 6 major lines.

(Note, too, how Racquel models most of them herself. And I got to say, that woman looks great in a wig. . .)

And this web site is only one of a dozen big on-line stores.

Who is buying all these wigs? Are there that many female cancer patients in the country? I am told that it used to be the rage to wear a wig on top of your own head of hair. Women pinned their own back, wore a tight cap on top, and then fitted the wig onto all that. Really? Who would do that? Women still do that? To judge by the availability of product, I guess so.

I ordered one as a "safety" wig, one that I was sure I'd be glad to wear. I ordered a second, which didn't cost much, because it looked fun. When I got it and put it on, Gemma said, "You could wear that to Crazy Hair Day at AWANA!" Indeed. I'll be sure to take a photo of it when I do.

And then I ordered one that Gemma pick out for me. It's pink. And SHE can wear it to Crazy Hair Day herself. After I tried it on and showed her, she said, "When you're all better and have your hair back, can I wear that wig?" Ah ha. . . So, really, she picked it out for herself.

Each wig offers color selection, most of which come in 10 or more colors. It's kind of hard to tell what color you're going to get from the little swatch you see on your screen, which goes far to explain this first wig I'm wearing. I thought I was buying something mostly brown with a bit of blondish highlight, but the wig put all the highlights in front and all the brown in back, so, well, there you have it.

Joshua and I are at the Hot Air Balloon Festival, something I'll tell you about tomorrow.

I wore this wig to church last weekend, and nearly no one recognized me. (Except for you, Kim!) At one point, Carol, whom I've known for 2 years, walked up to Bryan and, while standing right in front of me, asked him, "Wasn't Amy feeling up to coming tonight?"

I tapped her on the shoulder. She did her double-take and then said, "Oh, I thought you were Amy's mother or something."

I said, "You mean, 'Amy's younger daughter, right?'"

I realized the potential for an amusing evening, and started walking up to people I knew with the obvious intention of hugging them. Each time, the targeted woman would kind of put up her hands and look bewildered as she struck a "Strange woman coming for me!" post. I'd ask, "Don't you recognize me?"

And each one would shake her head, still baffled.

So funny.

I wore this second wig the next weekend and was recognized by all. This is my favorite of the 2. I think it looks better than my own hair has ever looked. And do you know where it came from? My neighbor, Stephanie.

She and her family are new on the cul-de-sac. Moved in a week after my surgery. I went over to introduce myself and we were making small talk when another neighbor, Mark, walked over, too. Before cutting to the small talk, he looked at me and said, "Are you OK? How are you doing? Is everything all right?"

A little odd, if you were my new neighbor observing this. So I had to explain.

I turned to Stephanie and said, "Hi, I'm your new

neighbor and I have breast cancer and I just had

surgery last week."

She laughed and said, "Last time we moved into a place, my new neighbor told me her husband was on trial for pre-meditated murder."

So, really, this was nothing.

Stephanie had just finished her treatment for cervical cancer before moving here. How about that! Her friend had sent her a wig to use, but her hair never fell out. She passed her wig onto me. How great is that?

I know what you're all thinking: Where in Colorado Springs are you standing, Amy? That looks like a corn field behind you.

Ah, yes. Well, heck, here come a lot more photos:

Here I am, modeling in front of Bryan's cornfield. Directly behind me is the front of his tomato patch. In this area, he also grows his pumpkins, basil, carrots and parsley. A whole forest of parsley.

Parsley? Why did he plant parsley? Why that much of it?

I asked him and he said that I was the one who bought the seeds. Really? I just don't remember that. . .

As for the outfit, I went shopping with my friend and decided to make an afternoon of it. Of course, once I was in Dillards, where the women's hats were 70% off, I took the wig off and tried all the hats on. So much for the illusion.

Here Bryan tends his strawberry patch. He's pulling back the net that protects it from the bunnies.

The kids love to poke through and eat the red ones off the plant. I think I've eaten 2 strawberries this whole summer. Gemma and Joshua? Considerably more.

A view of our yard. Each little section you see outlined in pavers within the mulch is a garden bed. The near one is our lettuce. I don't know which kind he planted, but they are all on the bitter side. Very fresh, though. And they grow like crazy.

Most evenings in the summer, we have dinner and then Bryan and the kids go out to the yard and tend the garden. Well. Mostly, the kids play. But Bryan is very diligent.

Bryan installed the patio last summer. Along the fence are our trellises for grapes. In the corner, he planted several berry bushes, but this summer has been so wet, and that corner is at the bottom of a slight slope. They all drowned.

There you have it. Wigs. Gardens. The connection? Umm. . . Things That Cover Up Stuff That Doesn't Grow and Things That Grow?

Sunday Storytime: The Tip

It is taking me a while to decide on a fake breast policy. When to wear it. When not to. It's kind of a tricky question, I realize now that I'm in a position to have to sort it out. There's a difference between looking nice, which I can do without it, and which has more to do with unwrinkled clothes, and looking. . .nice.

In theory, we think about looking nice for our spouses. But my spouse knows what the hardware looks like, so speak, so the illusion is kind of wasted on him.

Some days, I wear it just as a means of going incognito. You know, to be out and about in town as someone who's not deformed. But, really, people don't seem to notice that I am when I go out fake-less.

Meh. It's still a policy in the making.

Some things have happened to inform it, though. And the first is the feature of this week's storytime:

It has to do with Kwan, the deaf bagger at the Commissary.

Bear in mind that Gemma was speech-delayed until she was about 4 years old. You find this hard to believe, given that she's my daughter. But to clarify: It's not that she didn't talk a lot. We just had no idea what she was saying. So we all learned a little American Sign Language, and this is what kept us happy and sane before the speech came along.

So, when we met Kwan, the deaf bagger at the Commissary, we had a few things to say to her.

At the Commissary, baggers "work for tips only," but in exchange for the tip, your bagger wheels your groceries out and loads them into your trunk for you. No one asks you if you want a bagger. You're going to get one. Period. This is OK with me because it makes my life so much easier--I load the kids while the bagger loads the food. And you get whatever bagger is next in line at your check-out counter and, perhaps true to form on a military installation, there is a lady at the front of the line who tells you which counter you have to go to.

I never minded this system. But Gemma does. Since meeting Kwan a year a half ago, and signing, "Hi, friend" to her, and seeing Kwan's whole face light up upon seeing her, and the two of them hugging and then Kwan putting Gemma on the back of her cart and giving her a ride all the way out to our car--ever since then, Gemma insists on getting Kwan as our bagger. Either by ignoring the lady and picking Kwan's line, or getting up to the cashier and requesting Kwan by name.

Fast forward to the end of this summer, when I returned to the Commissary for the first time in 2 months to reclaim the grocery shopping chore from Bryan. It was just a few days after my port installation, so the left shoulder was sore. I still had my hair because chemo hadn't begun. And I was wearing my fake breast because going to my grocery store felt like the kind of event I wanted to get dressed up for.

As we headed out to the car, Kwan asked me where I had been all summer. I didn't know the sign for cancer. I could sign that I was "sick," but that didn't seem like enough of an explanation. Plus, in a few short weeks, I'd be bald and I hadn't decided at that point what my wig policy was going to be. Plus, and this was really the thing, if Kwan were a hearing person, I would have told her straight out what was going on. You can't hold back just because a person happens to be deaf.

We had gotten to my car by then. I used letters to spell out "cancer." Then I pointed to my fake breast. Her face was all horror and confusion. She knew I didn't have enough signs for her to ask where I was in the process. If I hadn't been wearing my fake breast, it would have been pretty obvious to her. But I was. In fact, I was looking very nice altogether and there was only one method I could use to explain the situation to her. I let out a sigh, held open my shirt collar and gestured for her to look down.

Oh.

She said she was sorry and that she would pray for me and the children. We finished packing up the kids and food, and we hugged and then she started back to the store.

I was just about to climb into the driver's seat when I realized: I hadn't given Kwan her tip! Doh!

She was all the way across the parking lot by then. I had no choice but to run after her. But the garment that holds my fake breast does not provide any sort of. . . athletic support for my real breast. And there was a newly installed port right above this real breast such that running made it all hurt a lot.

I was jogging down the aisle of cars, holding my real breast with my hand, calling, "Kwan!"--hoping that the customers walking right behind her would hear me, get my point, and stop her. Another bagger, an older black guy who has helped us before and who I knew to be a chatty fellow, called to me, "Oh, that girl ain't gonna' hear you! You got to go get her!"

Get, I did.

Just before she reached the store's doors. I handed her the tip and she told me I didn't have to do that. We hugged again. Then I trudged back to the car, my left shoulder screaming. Yes. Sure. I looked very nice, I told myself. And to what end?