I am pleased to share that after this past weekâ€™s adventures in p-neumonia, cadet has now been prescribed Amoxicillin. (You ever feel weâ€™re facing a future where many of the greatest great band names will come be the direct result of Auto Correct? I can see it now: Cadet â€“ with lead guitarist, Search Stream.)
My iPhone keeps insisting Searchâ€™s name is Cadet. Itâ€™s not that far off really â€“ Search means â€œspirit of battleâ€ and my Websterâ€™s dictionary iPhone app tells me cadet is essentially a small soldier (I paraphrase).
This is not the point. We had a whole slew of criterion for naming the muppets. I did not choose Cadet. That would just be weird. (Mostly because I am not presently a celebrity looking to support the future of the therapy industry by bestowing a wackadoo name upon my progeny. Iâ€™m looking at you Norman Lear â€“ who names their daughter Chanda?! You didnâ€™t see me naming the muppets River and Forest now did you?)
As I mentioned in my Weird Sisters review, those characters undoubtedly found it difficult to live up to such renowned fictional namesakes. The current book discussion over on BlogHer takes that notion into account and asks, â€œDo you Like Your Name?â€
Hereâ€™s the funny thing about my name â€“ Iâ€™ve never actually used it.
Iâ€™m a Patricia. (This is why my name is NOT spelled with an â€œshâ€ anywhere within.)
But Iâ€™ve never been called that in my life. At least not by anyone who knows me. There have been the rogue legal encounters, but otherwise â€“ itâ€™s all Tricia.
I like that name. But much like my personal bubble (do not invade my personal bubble), I absolutely despise the familiar shortening. â€œHey Trish.â€
Too often, someone Iâ€™ve never met before will be introduced to me as Tricia (that being my name and all) and immediately deem themselves buddy buddy with me. This instantly makes me skeptical that youâ€™re trying to sell me something â€“ metaphysical, metaphorical or material. And then I donâ€™t like you so much. (Consider yourself warned.)
Guess what. Weâ€™re not there yet. Oh sure, *weâ€™re* there â€“ you can call me whatever you like. But I like you.
Let me be VERY clear on this. I. Am. Not. A. Patty.
Years ago I was sitting in my cube, clicking away on my keyboard. My phone rang. And, as much as I recoiled at the thought of whatever random issue the caller needed me to deal with, I plucked up the handset from the cradle and began â€“ then as I do now for every professional phone call â€“ â€œHello, this is Tricia.â€ (This is what one might call, â€œa clue.â€) This is how the conversation went. I am not making this up.
Caller: Is this Patty Casserole?
Me: Iâ€™m sorry, you have the wrong number.
Caller: This is HR. Iâ€™m looking for Patty Casserole.
Me: Ok. Iâ€™m sorry, you have the wrong number.
Caller: Corp Comms department? Been here 4 years. Works under Mary?
Me: Well, um, yeah. Thatâ€™s this department â€“ but thereâ€™s no one here by that name.
Caller: Huh. Employee number 12345?
Suddenly a wave of realization washed over my clueless head. (And this was WAY before mommy-brain.)
Me: Are you looking for Patricia Cosaro?
Caller: Yes, thatâ€™s what Iâ€™ve been asking.
(No itâ€™s not.)
Me: This is Tricia.
Caller: Great. Patty, I need to set up a meetingâ€¦
In any case, Iâ€™m pretty sure Iâ€™ve discovered my nom de plume should I find myself faced with the desire to write under fictional cover.