Sunday, 27 May 2007

Tagged, music, and Nancy

What’s in a name? Does a rose by any other name… Did your parents struggle over yours; did you have angst over your children’s or did you pick it out of a pail? Did you change your name when you married (male and female)? Do you like your name; does it fit your personality or is it more suited to a serial killer or a transvestite? Does your name label you as being from a certain country or religion, say a Hindi from Chicago? How did you choose your blog name? Is it your alter ego, someone you admire, or revenge for a teenage prank? Do you think our names have some part in forming our personalities, or is it more that cream pudding you spilled down the front of the dean’s wife’s dress?

This onslaught of thought came as a result of being tagged by ‘Twas Brillig to answer the following question:
Where did you get your child’s' name from?
Q has a family first name, she is just grateful she bypassed Edwina. Her middle name is one that I did hope would influence her personality. It is a name of passion and independence; at times I got more than I bargained for, in my thinking. I am glad to say she likes her name and it does suit her well.

I firmly believe any action taken in your twenties, without evil intent, should be forgiven and forgotten. One’s brain is not fully formed until you are thirty. I base this opinion on personal experience! It’s just one of those opinions I thought I should put out there. What do you think?

Someone has been playing Celine Dion for a week now – over and over in one of the houses on our street – all of the day and into the night in competition with the prayer calls. We have the windows open to get the ocean breeze and the sound comes curling in through the open shutters. It is surreal. Celine Dion in North Africa? They only play the sad, whining ones so we are thinking perhaps a broken heart, or just tone deaf? And I heard the blues as I was walking through the medina today – sounded like B.B. King. Standing life size outside an appliance shop in the medina is a cutout of Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, in his weight lifting days. The man had a waist like Scarlet O’Hara. You get these wafts of western culture and it catches you unawares like a stumble.

A friend of ours can’t get her cat neutered until she returns to the States because her Moroccan boyfriend thinks it is evil. Yes, that’s the word used, evil. This attitude may have something to do with the large number of cats in Morocco. He thinks that depriving the male cat of the ability to have sex is WRONG. He doesn’t mind spading the female cats, but his reasoning here seems somewhat more just to my mind, because she can still have sex.

When we were in Fez we lived in The Villa across from the American/Arabic Language School. It is a big rambling place that is home to foreigners taking lessons at the school. We had the larger apartment on the first floor giving me a bird’s eye view of the activity. When we arrived in September most of the Fulbright Scholars that came to Fez with us took up residence in The Villa. Already in residence was a young woman from New England. A Grace Kelly look alike but with serious attitude and a plan to do her bit for saving the planet, the sort that gives one hope for the future. She is the one who organized the big Thanksgiving Day (for anyone not American this is a BIG holiday) party at which everyone made and brought food and in general had a brilliant time. She is the mother you want on the Parent-Teacher committee because she will have the costumes ready, make the food, and pick up the children for the play while you are still trying to get your mascara on. During our sojourn a young man in his thirties arrived from Norway. He was a Moroccan with a voice like mink and a face you would expect to see on the sheik riding his white Arabian through the desert sands (sigh, oh yes). Nancy and I both thought he was totally yummy and we swooned whenever he was near. She was a through delight and when she departed she sent me this letter.


Thanks for the e-mail, I'm pretty bad at face-to-face good-byes anyways. Nevertheless I wish I had a chance to see you before I left, because I have one more thing to tell you…

I knew I had to tell a comedian about this because it was a moment that could not have been more perfectly constructed… I knew it had to be you because, well, you'll see….

So I was up early as usual on Wednesday and getting ready to make coffee when up from the dungeon comes our Norwegian deity in his green sweater (my personal favorite). We chat a little about the imminent end of classes - he being irresistible, I trying to make sure I don't spit out my tooth chip by accident.

"I've been meaning to ask you," (my ears perk up) "I was thinking if I liked your room I may move in, after you leave of course," (…I mean… you really don't have to suffer down there a moment longer…) "so could I have a look sometime?"

"A'jee, say no more." I gave him a trademark head flick – smooth, sexy… nice work Nance. We climbed the stairs as I tried to recall my room's state of cleanliness and decided that I had naught to worry about.

"It's a good room," as I unlocked the door, "but there's something wrong with the…" shit shit shit shit FUCK. Maybe it was selective memory, but Nancy, this is ridiculous. I opened the door and was confronted, freshly laundered and draped to dry over every outcropping in the room, by EVERY last pair of my underwear, panties, knickers, and drawers.

"I see…" he smiled.

"TakeyourtimeIhavetogoaskPamelasomething!" I ducked under his gaping (gorgeous) gaze, on the fast track out of the room "sorry about the… laundry." I left him face to face with my prized possession – an old pair of yellow briefs filched from an ex-boyfriend with a bottle of Heineken Beer embroidered where my "manhood" should be.

LM– You're so much fun. Thanks for hanging out, lending movies and being a great Mama. I'll be looking for you on the bookstands…

Love Always,
Nancy ******r


Omega Mum said...

It's always the way, isn't it? But wouldn't it have been worse if he'd revealed his longstanding passion for her just before departure - what could she have done? PS Baffled by mink voice. Just makes me think of ermine robes and House of Lords.

lady macleod said...

I rather think she would have melted on the spot.

mink: like running your hand though one of the coats; soft like a spring breeze, cool like silk, warm like a fire on a winter's eve, and enveloping like a lover's embrace - that do it for you then? (he he)

I see where YOUR mind is...

jenny said...

Pardon me while I go look for Hubby...

jenny said...

**Smoothing clothes and tucking strand of hair behind ear**

Now then, where was I?? Oh yes-- Mink voiced men.... siiiighh...

Names-- as you see, I have a very common name: jennifer, and Hubby also has a common name so when it came time to name our girls, we looked for old fashioned names. Names that people have heard of, but dont really use anymore. We vowed not to use names with unusual spelling such as: Katelyn, Caitlin, Catelyn etc... And all three have middle names passed down from their grandmothers.

As for non-stop Celine... well, when my heart was lonely and I was apart from my very first serious boyfriend, I took to playing 'Wilson Phillips' all day, everyday, until my upstairs neighbor came up to me and said, "Enough! For fuck's sake!" It was the dose of reality I needed to jolt me awake and move on. What can I say... we all have our lonely-hearts moments.

Chopski said...

I heard the other day that a "study" found that people who's surname starts with a letter nearest to the start of the alphabet i.e. Blair, Bush etc were more likeley to acheive more than someone who's surname starts with a letter nearer the end! I'm not bitter! Love, Chopski Zeon!

wakeupandsmellthecoffee said...

I named my daughter after two songs dedicated to women. I love those songs. My daughter hates her two names.

Celine Dion? Was somebody being tortured?

I remember inviting a co-worker back to my apartment (in my single days) and coming home to find my knickers on the floor. I quickly kicked them under the bed, but not before he saw and commented on them.

lady macleod said...


I am sure your children thank you for not naming them "apple" or "poptart", spelling not withstanding.
I can only hope that whatever emotional distress is causing the CD fest will end soon.
Thank you for coming by.


Oh dear, perhaps you should just not read any more "studies". (Zeffierlli, Zeus, F.L.Wright, led zeplin)
thank you for coming by.


You never know, she may come to like them in time. If not there's a form for that..

I should think it was torture, what other explanation could there be?

Yes, we have to learn to put our knickers away.
Thank you for coming by.

Liz said...

Knickers will always be the downfall of the true lady.

Liz said...

Harvey was named after the invisible rabbit.

mutterings and meanderings said...

My grey mare was named after a little gypsy girl, my black cat after the devil and my black and white cat after am Australian mammal ...

lady macleod said...


True, and oh my!
Thank you for coming by.


You win!
As always, thanks for coming by.

jmb said...

Hi Lady Maccleod,
I am always nipping over here to check you out and reading a bit here and there. But I don't think I have gotten around to commenting as yet.
You have a very interesting site, you are an excellent writer and I am a bit frustrated not yet getting back far enough to see why you are in Morocco. You are so prolific I have trouble keeping up with the current stuff.

Thanks for following my Alaska posts. Where did you live exactly in Alaska for that year?

I'll call again, I've blogrolled you to make it easier for myself.

lady macleod said...


I am always glad to have you over. I thank you for all the lovely compliments.
I lived in Anchorage and traveled all about, north to Denali,south to Seward and up to Prudhoe Bay. It was a grand year with many adventures.
Thank you for putting me on your blog roll. That is kind and I shall be happy to see you again.
Thank you for coming by.

I Beatrice said...

I have agonised for weeks about what the 'Q' could poossibly stand for in your daughter's name!

Girls' names starting with Q are extremely thin on the ground you see - and it couldn't possibly be 'Queenie', could it...?

(Oh, do please say no!)

Perhaps it's some exotic nickname you dreamt up in your inimitable fashion.

I chose I Beatrice by the way, because it was the nearest I could get to I Claudius .... not because Claudius was an Emperor (heaven forbid I should nurture such delusions!) - but because, by virtue of his assumed idiocy, he managed to sidle pretty much unnoticed through all the important events of Rome.

And then there's Your Good Self of course.....
"Is she really Lady?" a caller here asked yesterday, when glancing through the comments on my blog. To which I replied that I didn't know - but thought that on the whole you probably were.

A comment-vote ought to be taken on this question perhaps?

lady macleod said...

i beatrice

I can assure with you with all of the truth possible in blog world that I DID NOT NAME MY CHILD QUEENIE. (shiver) Albeit I am sure there are some quite happy with that name and have gone through life doing good works, but not for me, no.

I Claudius, he was a slippery old cod wasn't he? Interesting reasoning on your part. hmmmm...

Thank you for coming by dear.

Andres Carl Sena said...

your last few posts have proven interesting as ever, but . . . i hesitate to critique, but i will because. . . well, because i enjoy your writing. . . I do enjoy your ostensibly dicordant juxtopositions and in the last few posts they seem to have been neglected somewhat. like you wanna hear that, riught? anyway, i find it is the strength of your insight. you bring things toga=ether that would otherwise remain far apart. i am a loyal reader, nonetheless. i just thought i'd pop in with my two cents. for what it's worth. thanks.

Andres Carl Sena said...

oh, and i love the description of Q's name, how it came about and its purpose.

lady macleod said...

andres carl sena,

I DO want to hear. I appreciate you taking the time and interest. As always thank you for coming by.