Breezy, and Heidi and Emily Are Dirty Whores

When we were considering names for our children, Pooteewheet really liked the names Emily and Abby. For a boy, she preferred Dark. Yep, Dark...we fully intended to give birth to the Anti-Christ. I, on the other hand, prefer ethnically Celtic sounding names like Margaret and Catherine, ensuring our child would have a name like a Catholic school girl. For a boy I liked Dafydd (a Welsh variant of David), which I was assured would mean burdening the child with the moniker Daffy at school. But I've heard that song about a boy named Sue, and it would have just made him stronger after he got a chance to beat the crap out of me later in life. After all, I lived through "Scott on the Pot" and wearing my Scout uniform to school, so Dafydd wouldn't have killed him.

We had a little girl and we decided against Emily just because so many Emilys were currently loose in the world. In retrospect, that was an excellent idea, because while Eryn and I were at the park on Friday, I discovered something shocking on the bridge: Breezy, & Heidi and Emily are dirty whores. I'm pretty sure I didn't want to be answering the question, "Daddy, why does that say Emily's a whore?" for my little girl. And she already reads - she reads a lot and can sound out many words she doesn't know - so I know I'd have been asked the question.



I'd like to spray paint the bar on the bridge at the park so the graffiti is gone, but every time I think about it, I picture being shot by a local policeman just because I'm standing in the park with a dangerous spray can. Or they'll look me up on their computer after catching me, see that I run an extremist web site, and I'll be whisked away for several years of questioning about how my spray can made it into the country despite tight port monitoring. Perhaps the best bet is just to get a letter from the city telling me I can spray paint it and then do it in broad daylight. You may think I'm paranoid, but I was once forced to talk to the Wright County police for an extended period about sacrificing a horse in a town park because it was called in by a neighbor (it was a Native American-style Boy Scout ceremony. No horses were hurt in the production).

If you made it this far, here's a picture of Eryn taking advantage of the local park and enjoying the fact that it was warm enough not to wear a coat. Spring has almost sprung in Minnesota!