Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Test Key
NOT EDITED SINCE JULY, 2006
[If you've just joined us, scroll down to see the two preceding posts first. Then maybe, just maybe, this will make sense to you. No promises.]
"Must a name mean something?" Alice asked doubtfully.
"Of course it must," Humpty Dumpty said, with a short laugh. "My name means the shape I am and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape."
Through the Looking Glass - Lewis Carroll
ro-bear: Robert took French in college, and remembers very little, but his name in French converts nicely to a teddy bearish sort of nom de plume. The master of the “little yellow house on the hill,” and husbandman of all within and without, Ro-Bear is where the buck stops on Eddings Hill. Frankly, I’m glad he’s in charge. [btw, he was having fun that day, but the sun was bright.]
rachel tsunami: This pseudonym happened when my friend Queen Shenaynay took a look at me during an all-nighter at her house and suggested I had a Tsunami hairstyle. (No photos, thank you.) Did she know my middle name is Sue, and that all my life till adulthood I was known as Rachel Sue to my extended family? (No. She didn’t.) Actually, they called me “RacheSue” and, who am I kidding, my aunts still call me that. In their hearts. I settled on this name for one reason. I knew it would make Leck laugh.
moo: When Molly was little, this was our pet name for her. Okay, yoo may be wondering; it was short for "Molly Moo-Cow"—(the name of a favorite toy.) Though this may not sound musical to you, it has sentimentally lyrical overtones to our ears—Our songbird's brain is one big file of song lyrics, tunes, poems, and movie quotes. She’s marvelous with a pencil, to be sure, but it turns out that music is her Grand Passion. Works for us. We’re the fortunate audience. (And she can still quote Peter Rabbit word for word.)
multifarious: Have you seen this name around in The Comments? Have you looked up “multifarious”? [having many aspects; "a many-sided subject"; "multifarious interests"; varied] In between achieving her goal of reading every book in our home library, and keeping one hand in a jigsaw puzzle at all times while finding anything in our home that happens to be lost, Kathryn manages to run circles around the rest of us, and at least starts everything that needs to be done even if she can’t stick around to finish it because she’s hurrying off to one of her jobs or running the errands no one else wants to run. Whew. Like I said.
monolog: Logan’s real name is fraught with potential we didn’t even think of when we named him 16 years ago. As a little tyke, it went from Lo-Lo, to Log, to Logo. Perfectly suited for cyber nonsense, he could be Log On, Log In, or Log Out. But “monolog” seems to fit perfectly. He’s the quiet, understated sort who can put one instantly in stitches when one least expects it. These days, it’s either a mandolin/guitar/banjo/harmonica, a basketball, or a sandwich that can be seen as an extension of his right arm. Also known as Flogart McSlothenguarde to his double cousins (known around here as the Beauch Boys) and his newest cousin, Jason Sacran, who dubbed him.
~e: That’s all. Just ~e. But she used to be “fairybird,” and it was fitting: Eleanor is 14 years, 4ft. 10”, and 92 lbs dripping wet, in and out, flitting about, devilishly clever at being unnoticed until it occurs to me that the dishwasher is *still* not unloaded. That’s about the time I hear her at the piano and my mouth just slams shut while she plays. It’s hypnotic, I tell you. The girl gets away with shenanigans untold because of that twinkle in her eye (not to mention the one in her fingers). But she’s our EllieBird (and about that big—except for the massive mane of dark hair that keeps her anchored to the ground).
ham ‘n cheese: The name says it all. Dalton is our resident 9yo scholar (soon-to-be-10), budding naturalist (it was that insect collection that did it for him), geologist, bookworm, humorist, (did I mention goofball?) and all around Did-You-Know?-er. He’s a data-sponge, I tell you. A sponge. With dimples “as big as all outdoors.” They’ve all got ‘em, but Dalton’s are dangerous. Get too close and you’ll fall in.
mr. incredulous: Our youngest, and our littlest Green man, 7 year old Shafer is at that delightful age when the world is still amazing. The end of one marvel is the beginning of the next. How do I know? Simple. The more marvelous it is, the wider the eyes, the higher the eyebrows, and the higher the pitch of his exclamatory sentence. Exploration of uncharted territory, settling the Old West, and surprising Dalton around a corner with a rubberband gun are some of his favorite pastimes. Mama’s baby. (And did I mention goofball?) Also known as Clueless.
There. How did you do?
[If you've just joined us, scroll down to see the two preceding posts first. Then maybe, just maybe, this will make sense to you. No promises.]
"Must a name mean something?" Alice asked doubtfully.
"Of course it must," Humpty Dumpty said, with a short laugh. "My name means the shape I am and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape."
Through the Looking Glass - Lewis Carroll
ro-bear: Robert took French in college, and remembers very little, but his name in French converts nicely to a teddy bearish sort of nom de plume. The master of the “little yellow house on the hill,” and husbandman of all within and without, Ro-Bear is where the buck stops on Eddings Hill. Frankly, I’m glad he’s in charge. [btw, he was having fun that day, but the sun was bright.]
rachel tsunami: This pseudonym happened when my friend Queen Shenaynay took a look at me during an all-nighter at her house and suggested I had a Tsunami hairstyle. (No photos, thank you.) Did she know my middle name is Sue, and that all my life till adulthood I was known as Rachel Sue to my extended family? (No. She didn’t.) Actually, they called me “RacheSue” and, who am I kidding, my aunts still call me that. In their hearts. I settled on this name for one reason. I knew it would make Leck laugh.
moo: When Molly was little, this was our pet name for her. Okay, yoo may be wondering; it was short for "Molly Moo-Cow"—(the name of a favorite toy.) Though this may not sound musical to you, it has sentimentally lyrical overtones to our ears—Our songbird's brain is one big file of song lyrics, tunes, poems, and movie quotes. She’s marvelous with a pencil, to be sure, but it turns out that music is her Grand Passion. Works for us. We’re the fortunate audience. (And she can still quote Peter Rabbit word for word.)
multifarious: Have you seen this name around in The Comments? Have you looked up “multifarious”? [having many aspects; "a many-sided subject"; "multifarious interests"; varied] In between achieving her goal of reading every book in our home library, and keeping one hand in a jigsaw puzzle at all times while finding anything in our home that happens to be lost, Kathryn manages to run circles around the rest of us, and at least starts everything that needs to be done even if she can’t stick around to finish it because she’s hurrying off to one of her jobs or running the errands no one else wants to run. Whew. Like I said.
monolog: Logan’s real name is fraught with potential we didn’t even think of when we named him 16 years ago. As a little tyke, it went from Lo-Lo, to Log, to Logo. Perfectly suited for cyber nonsense, he could be Log On, Log In, or Log Out. But “monolog” seems to fit perfectly. He’s the quiet, understated sort who can put one instantly in stitches when one least expects it. These days, it’s either a mandolin/guitar/banjo/harmonica, a basketball, or a sandwich that can be seen as an extension of his right arm. Also known as Flogart McSlothenguarde to his double cousins (known around here as the Beauch Boys) and his newest cousin, Jason Sacran, who dubbed him.
~e: That’s all. Just ~e. But she used to be “fairybird,” and it was fitting: Eleanor is 14 years, 4ft. 10”, and 92 lbs dripping wet, in and out, flitting about, devilishly clever at being unnoticed until it occurs to me that the dishwasher is *still* not unloaded. That’s about the time I hear her at the piano and my mouth just slams shut while she plays. It’s hypnotic, I tell you. The girl gets away with shenanigans untold because of that twinkle in her eye (not to mention the one in her fingers). But she’s our EllieBird (and about that big—except for the massive mane of dark hair that keeps her anchored to the ground).
ham ‘n cheese: The name says it all. Dalton is our resident 9yo scholar (soon-to-be-10), budding naturalist (it was that insect collection that did it for him), geologist, bookworm, humorist, (did I mention goofball?) and all around Did-You-Know?-er. He’s a data-sponge, I tell you. A sponge. With dimples “as big as all outdoors.” They’ve all got ‘em, but Dalton’s are dangerous. Get too close and you’ll fall in.
mr. incredulous: Our youngest, and our littlest Green man, 7 year old Shafer is at that delightful age when the world is still amazing. The end of one marvel is the beginning of the next. How do I know? Simple. The more marvelous it is, the wider the eyes, the higher the eyebrows, and the higher the pitch of his exclamatory sentence. Exploration of uncharted territory, settling the Old West, and surprising Dalton around a corner with a rubberband gun are some of his favorite pastimes. Mama’s baby. (And did I mention goofball?) Also known as Clueless.There. How did you do?
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Okay, time’s up. Put your pencils down and turn in your papers…
Been flirting with doing a family blog for about a year now. We generally don’t rush into things. (See the date on the previous post.) It started out as just a technicality; I had to be a blogger to access other blogs. Then it became a joke, as the comments will attest. Then a sort of a dare. And now, well, there it is.
I realize that for many of our good friends who might be reading this, the blog thing has peaked and isn’t such an interesting novelty anymore, so our timing may seem a bit off the beam. And it is probably fair to say that those of you who only had a virtual existence during the school year have discovered a real life in the plethora of summer activities. But I’m betting the cycle will come around again. (As cycles always do.)
However, one of our primary motivations for pushing this through even now—because it is summer and we have a little time—is because it has always seemed it would be a good vehicle for sharing information with some folks in our extended families: Beauchamp/Chandlers, Denmans, Greens, and Davises. Sort of a weak alternative to all those cards I should have written to aunts/uncles and cousins, and all those holiday here’s-what-we-did-last-year letters that have written themselves in my brain but never found a way out. If you are family, and you got word from me asking you to visit our family’s blog, you’ll know that guilt had something to do with it.
Also, admittedly, we’ve missed out on the satisfaction of having a venue for the mishmash of ideas, favorite poems and pictures, and slice-of-life snippets that are just too good not to share.
So there. Our raison d’être.
Our reason for being.
Tomorrow, I’ll post the test key and you can check your answers.
I realize that for many of our good friends who might be reading this, the blog thing has peaked and isn’t such an interesting novelty anymore, so our timing may seem a bit off the beam. And it is probably fair to say that those of you who only had a virtual existence during the school year have discovered a real life in the plethora of summer activities. But I’m betting the cycle will come around again. (As cycles always do.)
However, one of our primary motivations for pushing this through even now—because it is summer and we have a little time—is because it has always seemed it would be a good vehicle for sharing information with some folks in our extended families: Beauchamp/Chandlers, Denmans, Greens, and Davises. Sort of a weak alternative to all those cards I should have written to aunts/uncles and cousins, and all those holiday here’s-what-we-did-last-year letters that have written themselves in my brain but never found a way out. If you are family, and you got word from me asking you to visit our family’s blog, you’ll know that guilt had something to do with it.
Also, admittedly, we’ve missed out on the satisfaction of having a venue for the mishmash of ideas, favorite poems and pictures, and slice-of-life snippets that are just too good not to share.
So there. Our raison d’être.
Our reason for being.
Tomorrow, I’ll post the test key and you can check your answers.
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