Name Silliness

You have but to know an object by its proper name for it to lose its dangerous magic.  

~Elias Canetti~

 My parents called me "Suzanne."  Well, truth be told, my mother called me that, and following her lead, all of my brothers used the name I'd been given at birth.  My father always called me "Suzy"  -- a moniker that I would tolerate from no one else.  


As a young adolescent, I tried to get everyone to use my middle name, and so for a short while, I became "Beth" outside of my family.  It wasn't something I ever successfully convinced my parents to accept, and the whim didn't last very long.


In college, I wanted desperately to be one of the guys.  The mining college where I studied as a young woman was a seriously male dominated world, and my jeans and denim shirts and combat boots belied the feminine handle I'd worn all my life.  There, I became "Zimmy,"  a shortened version of my surname.  


I spent years of with no name at all save the tags of "wife" and "mommy."


Arriving here nine years ago, to create a life of my own choosing, I flirted briefly with calling myself "Ahnold," but became instead, Master's "swan."  I've been swan for a really long time, and it is a name that I've loved and cherished and held close to me.  Of all the gifts He's given to me, that name holds a particular sort of mystery and magic.

Just lately, though, it seems that I've lost my "swan" label in favor of a more prosaic and less melodious appellation.  As Master has recovered from His shoulder replacement (and so been pretty restricted in the use of His right arm), He has taken to calling me without actually doing that directly.  It goes a little like this:

"Dammit!  I wish I had some more coffee."
"Dammit!  I wish I had my sandals."
"Dammit!  I can't find my glasses."
"Dammit!  I left the remote on the table."
"Dammit!  I dropped my pen."


And so it was that, about two weeks ago, I asked Him, teasingly, if He really thought that my name was "Dammit?"  I wondered out loud if I'd missed the one where He told me, "I love you, Dammit."  Wink!  


I don't know that I'm back to being swan, but I have heard way less "Dammit" in the last few days.


swan Dammit