The Moody Blues

I've been getting through this week okay.  Last week, I had my brothers and my friend Gimpy to distract me.  This week, the house looms quiet.  (And, considering what introverts my mom & I are, saying that the house is even quieter is saying something.)

I phoned my buddy Robomarkov the other night, in the hope that some conversation about anything would distract me from my new orphanhood.  It worked fairly well, except for when he was discussing his elderly cat who seems to be in decline.  (It sounded too similar to my mom's final months.)  I phoned a cousin last night.  It helped a little.  (Her dogs, whom she yelled at, apparently are in great health.)

What gets me, and I noticed the same thing after my dad passed, is the little things.  I still get up, eat breakfast, go to work.  Routine hasn't changed, and it comforts me.  However, when I arrive home and yell out, "I'm home!" but no one answers, the house seems awfully danged quiet.

Anyway, that's kind of a deep, sobering thought, so I choose to end with a bit of levity.  I thought of it the other day, when I misread a woman's name in a book.  It recalled my mom's best friend relating, years ago, how a relative of hers was trying to choose names for her newborn daughter.  She thought "Amanda Lynne" would be nice (and it is), until you say it out loud:  "a mandolin".  The name I misread was similar.  Again, "Mary Annette" sounds nice, but would you like to be called a "marionette"?

I should take some time to ponder what other women's names sound similar to real objects.  What men's names do?  And, the biggest question of all, would being called a Muppet be a compliment or an insult?