Familiar Names

Happy New Year to all! After almost two weeks of letting the wrist heal from the sprain/strain/jam/whatever, I am back to writing. We are on our way back up to Fayetteville, a town just outside of Syracuse where Mom lives. This area is called Upstate NY, as opposed to NYC, and Fayetteville is this area's version of Ann Arbor to some degree. Certainly, the housing prices and school taxes are similar. This area is the home of Stickley furniture, and so the shopping center around the huge Stickley showroom is loaded with the names one would expect... Panera, L.L. Bean, Chico, Anne Taylor, Bonefish Grille, etc. Instead of Whole Foods, they have the local equivalent, Wegman's, where I will be heading later today.

Tomorrow night we are having a thank you dinner for the neighbor who helped Mom with her nose bleeding attack. Fellow neighbor Marge informed Mom that they eat Italian food (they are of Italian descent), and we assured Mom that Northern Italian cooking was not too spicy for her. While she was inviting Tom, I had asked her to inquire about anything they did not eat, so she put me on the phone to hear the answer. I was a bit unprepared for Tom's hale and hearty responses, as I have never met him before. In the space of two minutes, I became "Hon" and "Honey." Those of you who know me realize I am usually outgoing. However, I have never become used to people other than close family or dear friends calling me by names other than Judy.

Now, in our traveling around I do not mind being called the various familiar names one receives at the Mel's Diners, such as "Hon," "Dear," "Sweetie, " etc. That just seems to be part of the territory, rather like "Well, eat ma grits." And, I can tolerate it in sales associates/clerks in stores, although I am not fond of it, as in the "Oh, Honey, it is YOU" catagory. But, I generally do not appreciate it coming from other people

One offender was a prissy, fussy, ever-so-wonderful antique dealer in California, who was just much too precious to learn our names. George never referred to 1HW by any name at all, and I was always "Dear." Since he bought large quantities of expensive items from us, I was forced to overlook it and frequently bit my tongue to hold back smart aleck comments.

Probably the worst case was from my step-mother Fang (aka, Hang-Nail by 1HW), named thus because her fake, curving nails stuck out 3/4 inch beyond her fingertips, much like talons, and the little finger was a gold one with a cubic zirconia in it. Really. I am not joking. Her self-proclaimed "profession" of nail "stylist" meant she glued on fake nails for people, most of which came unstuck and flew around the room. The one time she forced me into having my nails done (at a hefty price, too, I might add), one of them went across a dinner table and almost landed in someone's wine glass. Not good. She wanted everyone to think she was from Texas (instead of eastern NM), and she adopted a fake accent and called everyone "Dahlin'." She never once called us by our names. Some time I will relate other stories about Fang, as she was a work.

So, as we get ready for Saturday's dinner, I just hope that Tom will remember my correct name and use it. More later on our "candlelight supper," as Hyacinth on BBC's "Keeping Up Appearances" would call it! Have a happy Friday!