No Princess Bride jokes, please....

What am I doing up at this hour? Well might you ask! I have been confronting the challenges of trying to cook in a strange kitchen. The kitchen itself is marvelous--literally four times the counter space, way more storage, it ought to be great, right? It probably would be, if I could *find* anything.

*eyeroll* It never fails to amaze me how differently women keep their kitchens. What we regard as essential in the pantry or for equipment varies so much. I, for instance, find it absolutely inconceivable that there is not one, single can of tomato sauce anywhere in the house. (Otherwise, there would be chili happening in the crockpot and I'd be in bed already.) There's also a marked lack of pans suitable for roasting a meatloaf...I improvised with what I think of as a "brownie" pan.

Personally, I prefer the meatloaf method my dad taught me---baked in a cast iron skillet. It gives it a nice crust. I have enough cast iron for three kitchens...I think I know what S. is getting for Xmas! I understand that she has a digital abomination one of the newer stoves with a solid surface top, but no cast iron AT ALL? I guess she never bakes cornbread, either.

The other day, I picked up a new bottle of polish from the clearance rack at the grocery store. $1.25 for Cover Girl #545: Candy Corn...a sassy shade of orange. I had the forethought to bring my manicure bag with me, and after I got through showering away all the sand and salt, I was in the mood to pamper myself, so I painted my nails this evening while watching TV.

I admit, I've gotten no writing at all done this week, but I've blissed in the hot tub every night except tonight, gone for one long walk on the beach, and actually started reading a *new* (to me) book---The Vanished Man by Jeffrey Deaver---part of the Lincoln Rhyme series that began with The Bone Collector. (Yes, they made a movie that somewhat resembled it.) I've gotten about a third of the way into it, and I'm quite enjoying it. This doesn't surprise me; although I haven't caught *all* the books in this series, the ones I have read were pretty good, and I enjoyed an earlier series of his with a young lady named Rune.

S. called this afternoon from St. Thomas, and was just bursting to tell me it was a U.S. Territory and that we bought it for $25 million dollars just before World War I. (I confess, I did not know that.) And she said that just went to show that $25 million didn't go as far as it used to. I forebore to mention that in those days, gasoline was less than a dime a gallon. Conservatively, that's about $5 billion today, if I've got the maths right. And I seriously doubt we'd sell it for that, so really, we've definitely gotten our money's worth out of it.

Am I babbling? I'm babbling. Twenty-eight minutes before I can stop baby-sitting the meatloaf and go to bed!

No Princess Bride jokes, please....

What am I doing up at this hour? Well might you ask! I have been confronting the challenges of trying to cook in a strange kitchen. The kitchen itself is marvelous--literally four times the counter space, way more storage, it ought to be great, right? It probably would be, if I could *find* anything.

*eyeroll* It never fails to amaze me how differently women keep their kitchens. What we regard as essential in the pantry or for equipment varies so much. I, for instance, find it absolutely inconceivable that there is not one, single can of tomato sauce anywhere in the house. (Otherwise, there would be chili happening in the crockpot and I'd be in bed already.) There's also a marked lack of pans suitable for roasting a meatloaf...I improvised with what I think of as a "brownie" pan.

Personally, I prefer the meatloaf method my dad taught me---baked in a cast iron skillet. It gives it a nice crust. I have enough cast iron for three kitchens...I think I know what S. is getting for Xmas! I understand that she has a digital abomination one of the newer stoves with a solid surface top, but no cast iron AT ALL? I guess she never bakes cornbread, either.

The other day, I picked up a new bottle of polish from the clearance rack at the grocery store. $1.25 for Cover Girl #545: Candy Corn...a sassy shade of orange. I had the forethought to bring my manicure bag with me, and after I got through showering away all the sand and salt, I was in the mood to pamper myself, so I painted my nails this evening while watching TV.

I admit, I've gotten no writing at all done this week, but I've blissed in the hot tub every night except tonight, gone for one long walk on the beach, and actually started reading a *new* (to me) book---The Vanished Man by Jeffrey Deaver---part of the Lincoln Rhyme series that began with The Bone Collector. (Yes, they made a movie that somewhat resembled it.) I've gotten about a third of the way into it, and I'm quite enjoying it. This doesn't surprise me; although I haven't caught *all* the books in this series, the ones I have read were pretty good, and I enjoyed an earlier series of his with a young lady named Rune.

S. called this afternoon from St. Thomas, and was just bursting to tell me it was a U.S. Territory and that we bought it for $25 million dollars just before World War I. (I confess, I did not know that.) And she said that just went to show that $25 million didn't go as far as it used to. I forebore to mention that in those days, gasoline was less than a dime a gallon. Conservatively, that's about $5 billion today, if I've got the maths right. And I seriously doubt we'd sell it for that, so really, we've definitely gotten our money's worth out of it.

Am I babbling? I'm babbling. Twenty-eight minutes before I can stop baby-sitting the meatloaf and go to bed!

The Name Game

Wandering thru Slate after reading this week's "Dear Prudence" column, I ran across "Where Baby Names Come From" (http://www.slate.com/id/2116505/), an interesting article that proposes that parents from the lower end of the socio-economic scale "borrow" baby names given to more upwardly mobile infants in hopes of bestowing similar success on them.

I gave that some thought; remembered my answering service career, where a very busy pediatric practice exposed me to the local trends in child-naming fashion, circa 1988-92. Of course, I have no way of knowing which callers were high or low income---what stuck me was how often I could tell mama's soap opera preferences by how she'd christened her offspring. (Lots of Krystals, Alexises, Kaylas....) Although, thinking of it in that light, that's also use of a more affluent name---Dynasty was 80s excess at its best.

A character's name can certainly evoke feelings for a reader---as well as potential trouble for a writer: I will never again succumb to the impulse that made me name a trio of brothers Eduardo, Ernesto and Esteban. *shudder* Never mind that I once knew sisters Dawn, Doris, Debbie and Denise. Keeping those guys sorted out was a nightmare.

A wise reader will see a name like "Gabrielle Angelica Ravenscroft" and KNOW that she's a Sue. Want to disguise a Sue? Call her Jane, or Martha or something else that doesn't sound like it's wearing a lacy dress on its way to a tea party. Or, if you're going to write fic in which your protagonists spawn, consider the fandom---do you honestly think Greg House and James Wilson are going to name their adorable little assbaby "Buttercup"? If so, you really need to stop smoking that shit. Your brain is melting. Srsly.

My fics tend not to introduce a lot of OCs. Reviewing the list, canon trumps new characters by about 10 to 1. In several stories, I didn't name the original characters at all; introductions can be less important than action. Sometimes that adds mystery; other times, a nickname can convey more than an "official" name.

I used the nickname "Lisiado" (which means broken) for a lame character who is a man with a past...under another name. Since it's from the canon of Robert Rodriguez, who's been known to give his characters names that translate to things like "Snot" and "Blue", "Broken" fits right in. But is he really broken?

For an enigmatic and deadly former CIA agent, I simply used initials: RC. Deceptively innocuous, it doesn't even give away the character's gender. (One of these days, someone may catch on to that....)

Skyflower is a magikal practitioner. Sounds all kinds of New Age hippy-dippy, doesn't it? That's what the hero expects, anyway.

Richard Arlington Terwilliger is a former professor of anthopology, who's living on the streets and suffers from mental problems. (The initials are not coincidental.) Someone was running a check on his background, which is why his full name came up, but that isn't revealed until after he's been shown as a derelict.

With a name like Nadine Cooper, you know this is a woman with roots in the deep South. 'Nadine' is far more likely to be found in Georgia or Alabama than New Jersey, and the possibility of her using a cast-iron skillet as a murder weapon fits right in.

"Marlena Wentwell" hints of the silver screen and fading glory. No surprise then that she's an aging actress whose glamour days are long gone.

And so on. Not a Gwynnyvyre Brigitta in the bunch. Now, if it's meant to be funny, by all means, lay it on thick. Giving names based on sweets to the wanna-be brides in "Lonesome Confectioner Seeks True Love" was intended to be tongue-in-cheek, as was creating a Mary Sue named Mary Sue for the sequel, "Mary Sue Sells Mary Kay". (Both at the Pit of Voles.)

If I had an actual child to name---and thank the deity of your choice that I don't---I suspect I might be tempted to come up with a Buttercup name of my own. I wouldn't give my kid a rubber stamp name. Nothing too common---Jennifer and Kim are both *out*, despite knowing lovely individuals with those names. Ditto a whole stack of trendy name that I detest (and if one of them applies to you, it's nothing personal. Blame your mama.): Tiffany, Brittany, Briana, Paige, Trisha---the list goes on.

While bestowing a fanciful, unique name sounds like fun, I grew up hating my own given name, so I'd rather find something that's not common, but not completely off the map. A family name, maybe: Gordon or Peter are both simple names that are clearly BOYS. Lillian was a favorite aunt, and it may be time to reclaim my mother's pretty name, Laverne, from sitcom hell.

Not that this is going to be an issue unless I'm about to give birth to a two-year old. Nope, I have menopause and no love life on my side.
.

The Name Game

Wandering thru Slate after reading this week's "Dear Prudence" column, I ran across "Where Baby Names Come From" (http://www.slate.com/id/2116505/), an interesting article that proposes that parents from the lower end of the socio-economic scale "borrow" baby names given to more upwardly mobile infants in hopes of bestowing similar success on them.

I gave that some thought; remembered my answering service career, where a very busy pediatric practice exposed me to the local trends in child-naming fashion, circa 1988-92. Of course, I have no way of knowing which callers were high or low income---what stuck me was how often I could tell mama's soap opera preferences by how she'd christened her offspring. (Lots of Krystals, Alexises, Kaylas....) Although, thinking of it in that light, that's also use of a more affluent name---Dynasty was 80s excess at its best.

A character's name can certainly evoke feelings for a reader---as well as potential trouble for a writer: I will never again succumb to the impulse that made me name a trio of brothers Eduardo, Ernesto and Esteban. *shudder* Never mind that I once knew sisters Dawn, Doris, Debbie and Denise. Keeping those guys sorted out was a nightmare.

A wise reader will see a name like "Gabrielle Angelica Ravenscroft" and KNOW that she's a Sue. Want to disguise a Sue? Call her Jane, or Martha or something else that doesn't sound like it's wearing a lacy dress on its way to a tea party. Or, if you're going to write fic in which your protagonists spawn, consider the fandom---do you honestly think Greg House and James Wilson are going to name their adorable little assbaby "Buttercup"? If so, you really need to stop smoking that shit. Your brain is melting. Srsly.

My fics tend not to introduce a lot of OCs. Reviewing the list, canon trumps new characters by about 10 to 1. In several stories, I didn't name the original characters at all; introductions can be less important than action. Sometimes that adds mystery; other times, a nickname can convey more than an "official" name.

I used the nickname "Lisiado" (which means broken) for a lame character who is a man with a past...under another name. Since it's from the canon of Robert Rodriguez, who's been known to give his characters names that translate to things like "Snot" and "Blue", "Broken" fits right in. But is he really broken?

For an enigmatic and deadly former CIA agent, I simply used initials: RC. Deceptively innocuous, it doesn't even give away the character's gender. (One of these days, someone may catch on to that....)

Skyflower is a magikal practitioner. Sounds all kinds of New Age hippy-dippy, doesn't it? That's what the hero expects, anyway.

Richard Arlington Terwilliger is a former professor of anthopology, who's living on the streets and suffers from mental problems. (The initials are not coincidental.) Someone was running a check on his background, which is why his full name came up, but that isn't revealed until after he's been shown as a derelict.

With a name like Nadine Cooper, you know this is a woman with roots in the deep South. 'Nadine' is far more likely to be found in Georgia or Alabama than New Jersey, and the possibility of her using a cast-iron skillet as a murder weapon fits right in.

"Marlena Wentwell" hints of the silver screen and fading glory. No surprise then that she's an aging actress whose glamour days are long gone.

And so on. Not a Gwynnyvyre Brigitta in the bunch. Now, if it's meant to be funny, by all means, lay it on thick. Giving names based on sweets to the wanna-be brides in "Lonesome Confectioner Seeks True Love" was intended to be tongue-in-cheek, as was creating a Mary Sue named Mary Sue for the sequel, "Mary Sue Sells Mary Kay". (Both at the Pit of Voles.)

If I had an actual child to name---and thank the deity of your choice that I don't---I suspect I might be tempted to come up with a Buttercup name of my own. I wouldn't give my kid a rubber stamp name. Nothing too common---Jennifer and Kim are both *out*, despite knowing lovely individuals with those names. Ditto a whole stack of trendy name that I detest (and if one of them applies to you, it's nothing personal. Blame your mama.): Tiffany, Brittany, Briana, Paige, Trisha---the list goes on.

While bestowing a fanciful, unique name sounds like fun, I grew up hating my own given name, so I'd rather find something that's not common, but not completely off the map. A family name, maybe: Gordon or Peter are both simple names that are clearly BOYS. Lillian was a favorite aunt, and it may be time to reclaim my mother's pretty name, Laverne, from sitcom hell.

Not that this is going to be an issue unless I'm about to give birth to a two-year old. Nope, I have menopause and no love life on my side.
.