Asked and Answered

Growing up my friends and family called me Debbie. At some point in adulthood, I became, Deborah and I corrected folks who slipped to call me Debbie or . . ugh, Deb.  

There was a regime change at my work a year or so ago. My new supervisor began referring to me as, Deb.

Other colleagues followed suit (mostly in emails and IMs).  I never made any moves to stop/correct them, convincing myself it wasn't that it wasn't a big deal.  

It isn't.  Really.  But, . . . .   

If you ask my name or what I prefer I say, Deborah.  Deb o rah

Last week a patient insisted on changing the pronunciation from Deb o rah to Dee BOR ah when she noted how I spell my name (the context being my name is part of my work email).

For the record, I detest the Dee BOR ah pronunciation; though technically many folks accept that way of saying Deb o rah. The conversation with the patient was more frustrating than the dozens of emails and IM messages that begin, "Hi Deb" . . . 

The saving grace was knowing I wouldn't have to speak with her again; her problem was solved, and her case was closed. 

It will feel weird to add in my reply to the Hi Deb emails with...oh, by the way, my name is . . . 

All things considered, there are greater issues with which to take umbrage.  

But if you ask me my name, I'll say . . . 

DebOrah

 

Thank You. 

Revelation

ONE 

This week has been . . . telling, eye-opening, has had an air of finality. I'm still processing the biggest news of the week and am not ready to speak on it with any sense of , clarity, I guess. But, speak of it, I will. Trust.

In the meantime, know that the new Brin has a name, her own name.  Before, getting into that, allow me to reveal that I'm betwixt and between whether I'm more turned on by piano players or guitarists. This weekend it has been an equal measure of  . . .  heat.

Back to my the new Brin's back and forth re: her name. Considered and tossed were:  >Stella as in the one who got her groove back, Millie as in the thoroughly modern,  Alicia as in Keys, Bonnie as in Raitt, Sharon as in Isbin . . .    and many others, the common thread? Music or something musical, on that are in sync.

Finally, we got down to one caveat, she didn't want a name made famous by someone else, she wanted to forge her own path, so to speak. Given the givens, we then narrowed possible names down to two:

Harmony and
Melody
A coin toss later and the winner (insert arpeggio) is:  M*E*L*O*D*Y

 . . . tune, air, or theme composed of tones arranged in a pleasing succession

*the sketch is the result of spending a good chunk of the weekend trying to tame the jungle we call a yard. The rains created a condition that was bordering . . . well, let's just say, thankfully, the temps were pleasant enough and the rain held off long enough to get some growth trimmed way the heck back.

Extra! Extra!

Kim, Kanye and their baby naming drama magnetized much media this week. I stumbled upon many of the stories strictly by accident. I am as invested in their
not following the K  trend as they are in me, my own name drama, or that which brings me here today: the new Brin.
In these past few days the new Brin's personality has begun to roll forward. She is revealing herself a smooth operator. Some tweaking to her brakes and a new saddle will serve to further enhance the overall riding experience. But so far, so pleased.

Getting to know the new Brin this past week has been enlightening. And while her new identity is not yet solidified a few factors have come to light. 1. she will not Brin, the sequel. 2. She will not be hyphenated. 3. She will not be North West (or East or South).

She is already a treasured and valued member of the team. She is family.

And her name is . . .

Her Name

A friend asked Ellen DeG to give me a wake-up call. She did and I was tickled pink. Thanks friend.

I, in turn, asked Ellen DeG to call Neta (and a couple of others). Ellen DeG had a problem with my request for a call to Neta. "I'm sorry, I cannot say that name." I was given the option to have the call made without a name (boooo) or choose another name. Well, Neta has a middle name so I tried that. Nope. "I'm sorry, I cannot say that name." Well, fudge.

I went back to Neta, spelling it the way it sounds: n-e-e-t-a-h. No go.

I tried n-e-a-t-a. "Sorry, I..."

I thought about trying any one (or all--until accepted) of our endearments for one another. Then I thought, screw it and just went with the message without a name.

Well, double fudge.

I'm inclined to think it was just a glitch. Neta isn't a rare name nor particularly hard to pronounce. Oh sure, some folks might say Net-ta instead of Nee-ta, that would have been acceptable. But unable to say any variation at all? Odd.

Then again, my mom has a difficult time with Neta's name too.

Mom: How is...uhm, your friend, in Tennessee, what's her name?

Me: Nee-ta.

Mom: Oh, I thought it was Net-ta.

Me: No, it's Nee-ta and she's fine. (aside: yum).

Mom: Oh, I thought...well, you know your father's wife is.. Me: Yes, I know, but her name has two Ts, it's Net-tie.

Then, of course, we get on to a conversation about 'dear old dad' which is where I sign off.