A Woman By Any Other Name...

Got back in one piece, although I can tell that I am getting older. Sleeping on someone else's bed (as lovely and comfortable as it really was) and driving 700 plus miles in three days put my body in overload. I even made that "umph" sound getting out of the car. Dead giveaway.

Things here seemed to have run smoothly. Looks like there was a small oversight about taking a bath for three days, but no one had tomaine poisoning or seemed undernourished, so I was happy. Of course I didn't miss the opportunity to ask Erick "So, did water hit our son's body at any time this weekend??".

Had my first IKEA experience, courtesy of my long-time pal, Valerie. Quinn came out of it with some nifty stuff - an easel, a kitchen baking set with an honest-to-goodness bundt pan (egads) and some Halloween goodies from Val.

A couple of times during the trip a recent change in my life came to the forefront like it hasn't here in La Grande for some reason.

They got my name tag wrong at my meeting. I signed my name wrong on two debit card receipts. I caught myself starting to say my name, but using the wrong one.

In August I changed from my maiden name to my husband's name. Now, we've been married for just over four years, and it seemed a bit, well, flakey, to be changing it after so many years. But, several things pressed me to do it.

One reason is that I wanted to shed my name, not only because it was horrendous and awkward, but because it represented nothing useful to me. The name was a reminder that it connected me only tenuously to my family of origin and to little else. There is no family history to tie me to it, no memories of beloved distant relatives or, really, many memories at all. It was long and seemed to weigh too much.

Another reason was that I simply wanted to have the same name as my son. I hadn't kept my maiden name for any deep philosophical or political reason - I just never thought about changing it before Quinn was born. And the, even after that, the idea just percolated.

When I told my husband I was thinking about it, he responded in his usual quiet manner. Oh, okay. But I could tell it meant something to him. Later, when I was actually going through the process of the name change (DMV, social security card, credit card, bank accounts), he said that it made him proud that I was taking his name, and that he was deeply touched. Fringe benefits. It was, in some way, an anniversary gift for him.

So, now I have a new name. I had to practice my signature for a couple of days before I took it out for a test drive; man, I loved my signature before. And it has been surprisingly easy.

And I feel lighter.