Names

Yesterday Elka was trying to get me to agree that “Dudley” is a good name for Zoe’s baby. I could not agree to such a detestable name. Elka badgered me about it for a minute or so, but I wouldn’t budge. “Well, Dudley is better than Snakebite, or Mouse, or whatever Steve wanted to name the baby,” she said.

No, no, and no. Snakebite and Mouse are perfectly respectable names, though I don’t think Steve was in favor of either. “Dudley” is scarcely mentionable in polite society. I’m not saying Zoe circulates amongst polite society; I’m just saying that Dudley is a loathsome name, unacceptable outside of sketchy English earls in the court of Elizabeth I.

Snakebite or Mouse, she said. Snakebite or Mouse.

Wakey Wakey

Look here, I think I should track Zoe again for a while. Not forever, of course. There are limits. I haven’t bothered to track her for some time, so I’ll bring you up to date briefly: Zoe married Steve, had her hair cut, has yet to smell the jar, made cupcakes without bringing me one, and has a bun in the oven. She now wears trousers with elastic waistbands, as is the custom in these parts. I have taken the liberty of naming her child "Christopher Robin Meriwether." If it's a girl I'll call her "Whitecake Withchocofrosting."

Today Zoe bought a fruitcake and it smelled like canned baked beans.