At Eleanor’s birthday dinner last night, the whole table got into a naming game of sorts. Eleanor is at the cusp of joining us in the blogosphere and is on the hunt for an appropriate, succinct and definitively charismatic surname that will help title her future blog’s home. Our group of six included myself, my Mother Peggy, Jillian, Tigger, Eleanor’s friend Gwen and of course, the birthday girl herself. Everyone was tossing out their favourite, or most hilarious suggestions. Popular name categories included:
- Anything British, to reflect her homeland
- References to her petite stature
- Places in and around Toronto (Coxwell, anyone?)
- Various things posted around the Restaurant – not sure if Eleanor “Restrooms” really has the right ring to it!
My personal favourite was Humperdink.
During the name-off, I told my Mother all about Nancy Francis and encouraged her to read. At which point she admitted “I already know about Nancy.” Clearly she has her sources! We then started discussing where the name Nancy had come from (Thank you, Jillian), and Tigger lamented that he would really prefer me to refer to him as Richard Nail a.k.a. Dick Nail. As we were all discussing our names, and what names we’d prefer Peggy decided this would be a great time to share that she had really wanted to name me Myfanawy. Myfanawy. Then they could have called me Miffy for short. What, what, WHAT? Miffy? I don’t think so.
This little nugget of information sent the table into hysterics, especially when we made the discovery that the name (as we were pronouncing it) sounds like someone with a terrible speech impediment is trying to say “My Family” – Muh-fam-wee. Cue belly laughs and streaming tears. Our server and other restaurant clientele weren’t sure what to do with us.
I’ve definitely bemoaned what I construe as the extreme commonality, and therefore lack of originality in my name, but am now extremely grateful that I dodged the Miffy bullet. What other horrors did you have up your sleeve Peggy?