Having been blessed with a somewhat uncommon name, and a definitely uncommon spelling of it, I think about names sometimes. Especially when I’m desperate for blog fodder. I’m very aware of how other people’s names are spelled, and I make it a point to spell everyone’s names correctly. Actually, I make it a point to spell everything correctly. I’m not sure if that’s related to the weird name thing, or just a symptom of my OCD. Maybe a little of both.

So I have an affinity for people whose parents have sent them out into the world with an oddly spelled name. It’s like we’re all part of a little club. The knowing glances, the sympathetic nods, the secret handshake.

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