What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.
Replace Romeo for Kevin & myself and you'll have the subject of this evening's Blog post. I'm not really sure why Kevin's dear mother chose his name but I have this habit of discarding it at will for a variety of replacements. Nicknames, if you will. And he does the same for me. Very rarely do we call each other by our given names. Even less rare for me if you consider that Becky in itself is just a variation of my given names. So here, for your Blogging pleasure, is the evolution of our favorite household nicknames:
Woodchip: It started off as an aversion to the traditional pet names of "dear" and "sweetheart." Kevin just decided to choose random nouns and apply them to me until one stuck. And this one did. Weird but can't we just apply the euphemism and call it quirky instead?
Fish: More than once I've been told that my personality reminds people of Dory from "Finding Nemo." Though I'm not sure that's exactly a compliment, I went ahead and borrowed Dory's sing-song mantra during a tough season of life in college: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." You know the tune. (If not, you mind want to consider devoting 90 minutes to Nemo to learn it. You'll thank me later). It's my fighter's song of perseverance. Kevin sings it to me to change my tears to laughter. But even on a daily basis, I'm his wife "Fish."
Mrs. Darcy: Though some may mock us that we enjoy and might even prefer the Kiera Knightly version of "Pride & Prejudice" to the 6 hour saga that is the A&E version, we are much indebted for our newest and most favorite nickname. Let me refresh you of the closing scene:
Mr. Darcy: How are you this evening, my dear?
Elizabeth: Very well. Only I wish you would not call me dear.
Mr. Darcy: Why?
Elizabeth: Because that’s what my father always calls my mother when he’s cross about something.
Mr. Darcy: What endearments am I allowed?
Elizabeth: Well, let me think. Lizzy for everyday. My pearl for Sundays. And Goddess Divine...but only on very special occasions.
Mr. Darcy: And what shall I call you when I’m cross? Mrs. Darcy?
Elizabeth: No. You may only call me Mrs. Darcy when you are completely, perfectly and incandescently happy.
Mr. Darcy: And how are you this evening, Mrs. Darcy? (sweet kiss) Mrs. Darcy? (even sweeter kiss) Mrs. Darcy? (the sweetest of all movie kisses—the kind that make you cry and wish the movie wasn’t ending)
Now both Kevin & I begun addressing one another as Mrs. Darcy around the house. I am Mrs. Darcy to him and he is Mrs. Darcy to me. Usually followed with our very poor British accents describing how incandescently happy we are.
So whether it's Woodchip, Fish, or Mrs. Darcy, do we retain, as Mr. Shakespeare says, our dear perfection that we owe without the title? Well, knowing that our perfection is certainly lacking, maybe if quirkiness is akin to perfection, we can still fit the bill!