Get a Different Name Day

I'm writing to you late on Wednesday evening for you to read sometime on Thursday, whenever you get up and about and start your blog reading adventures.

I've been on the couch ever since I came home from work. Some mutated version of Ryan's germs finally grabbed hold of me, and I've felt pretty blah all day. No fever, no aches or chills. Just blah. I would have gotten a stellar nap after work had Braeya not felt compelled to play a game of knock-the-picture-frames-off-the-wall. I turned her straight over to Ryan the moment he came home from the gym. And she's slept ever since.

Of course.

We also began getting what could become a nasty winter storm. It started late in the afternoon and is supposed to continue through the night and into Thursday. There's a fairly significant part of me that hopes they're not wrong and I might get a grown-up snow day. (That I could use for unending hours of rest.)

So as I sit here, with old reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond playing on TV and Ryan and Braeya conked out on the couch, I thought we could talk about a just-for-fun holiday that I discovered takes place today.

It's get-a-different-name day.

Have you ever wanted to change your name? Or do you love what your parents named you?

I often get asked if my real name is Rebekah, and it is! (If you didn't already know that.) When I was little, I wanted to be a Becky. I begged my parents to let me go by Becky. They said no.

I tried to go by Beckie behind their back, rationalizing it by customizing the cute spelling. I had a couple of friends at school who called me Beckie, but I don't think any of us believed for a minute that I could pass for a Beckie or a Becky.

For a while I wanted to be a Brittany. I thought if my parents would only have thought of that name, they surely would have chosen it. I can't remember now how many years I secretly hoped I could one day be a Brittany, but I'm also aware now that I am not a Brittany.

I don't remember when I finally transitioned to using Bekah, but I do remember that when I worked in Financial Aid, I had some pretty strict rules about who could call me Bekah. My friends and co-workers could, but when it came to students and parents, I required the full name of Rebekah.

It wasn't until my radio days that I became a full-time Bekah. I decided that saying my full first and last names on-air was cumbersome. and Bekah had a faster, easier flow to it.

I like being Bekah. I think it suits me well. Now that I've overcome the Brittany stage, I don't think I need to have a different name.

But how about you? Any other name dreams ever cross your brain throughout your life?