Mike!

You can't choose your own nickname. I read a book recently where the author had a baby boy and her older son couldn't pronounce "Nicholas" so he called him "Gigolous." Eventually the name was shortened to "Gigs," which the entire family uses. He's so going to get beat up in high school.

Having an older brother and younger sister who were alive purely to torture me, nicknames were abundant growing up. After I lost my baby teeth, my permanents came in crooked, split, and crammed. This earned me the moniker Buck-Tooth Beaver.

This was Mallory's 3rd birthday, but Micky hand-bombed it. It's resides in my album now.

One day I was reading a book when I felt my gums throbbing. A glance in the mirror sent my world into the surreal when I saw eye teeth outlined on the top of my gums, where they eventually poked through to hang over the rest of my teeth. Until I got braces, I would henceforth be known as Fang.

You've heard of a late bloomer. Well, since I can never seem to get anywhere on time, I was even late for being a late bloomer. I was a mass of self-conscious limbs, which meant I tripped or crashed or stumbled or fell more than most people. Dad joined in the fray and called me Boof. The name stuck. I spent my college years trying to work my way out of that one. It's one of the main reasons I hate failing or screwing-up on any level. Screwing up was, like, soooo 15 years ago.

This is the only photo in existence that shows me wearing braces. Not until I found it for this blog did I remember that I used to always get black bands to surround them, which I thought was cool, when in reality I looked like a smoker. Pair that with the geeky band t-shirt, the band-aid covering my acne, and the fluffy earmuffs and you have yourself a brand campaign for birth control.

When I was 21, my friend Monica invited me to the movies to go and see Monsters, Inc. I really am not a fan of animation, but I went because bowling or movies was the best source of sober entertainment. I think I even grumbled when we ended up in a matinee with kids all around us who each had some kind of liquid oozing out of their orifices.

There are some movies that are designed to make a person cry: The Blind Side, Marley and Me, and The Notebook. Then there are others who try to make you cry, but you just might be about to fight it: Steel Magnolias, Dead Poets Society, and Homeward Bound. Then there are those that surprise you and make you wonder if you know yourself at all: Gran Torino, I am Legend, and yes, Monsters, Inc. I mean, this animation came out of NOWHERE. It was before UP and Toy Story 3 threatened to rip our hearts out and stomp all over them, so I was ill-prepared when I walked into the theater that day. Let's just say when the movie ended, I was sobbing. The lights came on waaaaay too early and I heard the little girl next to me ask, "Mommy, why is the lady so sad?" Monica was laughing her head off and I had to resort to using the hem of my shirt to clean up enough just to be able to head to the car. I was mortified. But I loved the movie for surprising me.

Soon after that, I would greet Mom and Dad by walking into a room and exclaiming, "Mike Wazowski!" Dad would greet back, "Mike!" and then Mom would as well.

A short time later, we got a little classier. I would nod to Dad as I entered the room: "Mike." Then I would look over at Mom, "Mike." Mom would greet us both in the same manner and then Dad would. We did it all so fast that it sounded like a clucking chickens or the Cadbury bunny getting ready to lay a chocolate egg. When I saw it in print on an e-mail for the first time, I knew it had stuck. Dad has called me Mike ever since and it's the most endearing nickname I have. It somehow means that he/they are always happy to see me.

So, to recap, Dad calls me Mike, but my name is "Tawny" to the rest of you (ahem, Micky and Mallory) or "Tawn" if you would like to be legal and proper.

Why this walk down memory lane? Well, not only did I reference it in the last blog, but I have been bitten by the nostalgia bug a little bit. Two weeks ago my brother and sister-in-law closed on the house right next to my parents. Not in the same school district. Not in the same neighborhood. I mean rightnextdoor.

Which is sooooo cool for Tommy and Maura who will get to live and play so close to their grandparents!

And sooooo cool for Mallory who can easily babysit!

And sooooo cool for me who can take one 25 minute drive to visit my entire immediate family (and then take another 25 minute drive to the other side of town--alone).

Before they move in though, it needs updating. Unkie and Cousin Will are great with the construction and the connections and have already removed a couple of walls. I'll do a blog with all of the before/afters when it's all done, but this is where I have spent most of my free time because I was also.... hired?... to paint.

The entire house.

Cabniets, door frames, baseboards and walls. I do love a good project.

First step: Turn everything brown into a distressed black.

Alllllllllllllll 22 of them.

See all that brown? Yeah, that's now black.

And 4 more doors on the built-in hutch.

Solid.

 

Distressing these babies de-stresses me. Then it's time for 3 coats of glaze. It's just like painting fingernails on a larger surface.

 

I'm loving watching the house turn into a home for my family and can't wait to see all the new memories that will be made there. I've seen my kin more in the last 2 weeks then I have in the last 2 years. Hopefully any new nicknames the emerge will be directed towards Tommy and Maura.

There's not much more work done on my place: no time or energy. Except for the high-priced artwork that I hung in the living room recently.