A Chair by any other Name ...

So ... let it be known that I like my name. Mary. It can't get much more simple (or happy) than that. I have always liked it. And ... contrary to popular belief, I was the only Mary in school growing up. There were plenty of Mary Anns and Mary Janes, but only one ... me.

So what does my name have to do with this chair? I'll tell you. The pettipoint on this chair was done by my father's first wife who died shortly before he met my mother. I was 6 or 7 before I knew she existed, and frankly ... the fact that she had existed, gave me pause. We really didn't talk about her much, except the fact that she had made this chair and that her name was ... Mary.

So whenever I see this chair in the corner of my living room, I lovingly think about ... my mom. You see, my mom naturally felt a little intimidated by this Mary, and yet she very lovingly agreed to name me that. My mom was quite a woman. For that reason I named this daughter after her.

So, tell me. Do you like your name? Does it have a story?

'Cause it's story time.