What's in a name?

When my mom was preggers with me, she and my dad didn't want to find out if I was a girl or a boy until I was born. (Some of our wonderful friends, Jess & B., recently did this, and I totally think I'd do it, too-- wait to find out the baby's gender on its birthday. The excitement and surprise would be fabulous, don't you think?)

Anyway, my mother liked the name Matthew. My dad liked the name Amy. So there you have it. Little Amy was born!

In 1977, the name Amy was the third most popular girl's name in America. In the year I was born, there were 16,257 Amys for every 1,000,000 girls born. That means 1 in 60 girls was an Amy. But it felt like so many more.


Thank you, babycenter.com

There were so many Amys. You probably still know a bunch of them. I had friends named Amy. I was called Amy P. in my most of my elementary school classes (not the coolest name, mind you). I even have an amazing sister-in-law who's name is not only Amy, it's Amy Elizabeth. It's true!

Every so often, someone would ask me if Amy was short for Amelia. It isn't. But that got me to thinking. I didn't (and still don't) know a single Amelia. What a unique, interesting name. For a brief time in college, I even considered legally changing my name to Amelia.



It would be perfect. I could still go by Amy. But by then, my teachers had moved on from calling me "Amy P." and it wasn't so bad. Amy means "beloved" and I do think it's a name that fits me. I always have felt incredibly loved by my family, friends, and husband. I'm not saying I'm going to get an Amy tat any time soon, but I like it. Besides, now I realize my name doesn't have to be unique for me to be unique.

How did you feel about your name growing up? Did you ever seriously consider changing it?

Gotta get myself connected.

You guys. I'm out of town at a week-long training and the hotel doesn't have free wifi. So I thought, "Sure. I'm strong. I can handle this. It's only five days, right?"



Not so much. I've found that I need the internet. I need to be connected. I need to be able to chat, to blog and check the blogs of others, to look incessantly at Facebook where I can read silly updates from friends I had in junior high, to at a moment's notice reference IMDB, Amazon, Twitter, Awkward Family Photos, Goodreads, Modcloth, and most of all, Netflix Watch Instantly.



I need, if I want, to be able to watch the Tupperware Judge Judy (and show it to my friend/coworker/hotel roomie, who had never seen it).
I need these things. And I'm not ashamed.



No, I've never cared much for sports, but what if I really, really wanted to check in with the World Cup that's taking over the...well... World? How would I do that without the internet?

When my friend/coworker/hotel roomie tells me about amazing websites like Post Secret, I need to have access to them right away.

I only made it one day, you guys. Internet is $9.95 a day. And may I just say that a wave of relief washed over me when I clicked online? It felt so right.
Will I be able to slowly wean myself off?
Do I need a full-on intervention?
Should I be next in line for You're Cut Off?
Thoughts?



P.S. Charlie bit my finger. See? Another reason I need the internet.

I wish I had more self-discipline.

I know what people say. That if something is important to you, you'll make it happen. That everyone has self-discipline.

I sort of disagree. I mean, I agree with the first part, about making things happen if they're important and all that. But I think there are certain people who are born with a stronger inclination to be diligent or something. Just like people who are naturally more organized. Or naturally creative, or whatever. I swear it's a trait that is hard to foster. Especially when you're naturally lazy.

I've reached a terrible crossroads.

Possibly more terrible than the Britney Spears movie. (Which Nathan and I saw at the Alamo Drafthouse as a Mister Sinus Theater, I might add.)

The crossroads has presented me with the following two options:

Option 1 -- Lose weight.

Option 2 -- Buy new clothes.

While I was tempted to enter into option 2 just last night when I swore I heard the bargain-basement sirens of TJ Maxx calling my name, I soon came to realize that the better of the two is really Option 1.

I just don't relish all the hard work. Gilmore Girls workout continues tomorrow.