What's in a name?

When I started this blog, I didn't think very hard about what to name it. This is unusual for me.

Historically, I have an incredibly difficult time thinking of names for things. A few examples: my childhood black cat: Midnight; the white cat who replaced her: Snowball; our black dog with brown paws: Boots. Even the children were beyond difficult to name.

But for some reason, when it came time to name the blog, my husband's nickname for me just popped into my head. "P.O.W., babe, P.O.W.", he'll say, shaking his head, after I've done something totally understandable and wonderful, but which he for some reason finds unreasonable.

He doesn't read my blog, but he's seen it enough times open on the computer to see the name--and though he refuses to admit this, I know he really likes that I used his nickname.

The other day we were sitting around talking--again, I was being completely reasonable and witty--and he said, "You know, babe, it shouldn't be POW, it should be PIMA, as in PAIN IN MY ASS."