Tag Archives: marriage

I call him Crandyhamme

Since I have never stated my husband’s real name on this blog, I thought that today I would at least share his plethora of nicknames with y’all. They have morphed and multiplied over our 10 years together, and there are more than I could count. This is possibly due to the fact that when I’m feeling particulary affectionate, I speak in gibberish. In fact, just the other night I exclaimed in a transport of cuddliness “I’m going to schmandy* your bott**!!!”

*Schmandy = not even I claim to know what this means–but I like to keep the possibilities open

**Bott = body + butt

Anyway, on to the nicknames. Here’s what we got!

-Babes / Baby / Babycakes / Babzerillo

-Sweet thang / sweeterino / the sweet the sweet

-Lovebug

-Kiddo / Kidderino

-Honey bunches / Honey bunches of oats

-Sweetie pie / Sweetie-Bar-Pie

-Lovecakes

-Cutie patootie

-Little Guy — a term of endearment in no way connected to his height, taken from this Strongbad cartoon

-Crandyhamme / Crandyhammey / Crandy / Crandyapple

Here’s the story: we were moving from Delaware to Chicago and packing up boxes. All boxes were labeled according to their contents: BDR for bedroon, LVR for living room, BTHR for bathroom, etc. However, the particular box I was working on contained so much random stuff that I decided to label it ‘random.’ Based on my brand of silliness, ‘random’ became ‘crandom’ which then became ‘crandyhamme.’ I emblazoned this on the side of the box. At some indeterminate point and for some strange reason that even I can’t explain, I started calling my husband ‘crandyhamme’ after the box. ‘Crandyapple’ and ‘crandyhammey’ are then just obvious permutations. Don’t you agree?

-Shmanty / Schmantypants (also a nickname for my sisters)

-Spanky / spankypants (ditto on the above)

-Man hands

-Hot Stuff — ’cause it’s true. Especially when he’s doing dishes.

Or making cookies.

Or shaving. Or doing push-ups. Or even just sitting on the couch. Actually, now that I really think about it, he’s pretty dang hot at all times. See, normally . . . I don’t think. I just attack.

-Handsome / cransom

-Bestbottom / Bumgenius — These are the most recent additions to the list, debuting about about a month ago when my sister was talking about cloth diaper brands. In my defense, Crandyhamme started it by calling me ‘bumgenius’ one evening. I quickly responded in kind. And you know how they say ‘much truth is said in jest’? Well, these nicknames really reflect how I feel about him. I mean, can I help it if I think his bottom is actually the Best Bottom? Or that his Bum is a Thing of Genius??

Stay tuned Monday for some pictures of the Man of Many Names from our deep past that you will not want to miss. *snort snort*

Have a great weekend everyone!

Something about Indiana

There’s just something about Indiana.

I can’t put it into words exactly–but it has something to do with the fields and the sky, the crumbling barns that line the roads, the McDonalds perched right on the edge of a cornfield. A feeling grips me as we’re driving through, watching the scattered farmhouses grow closer, loom, and then flash by. What are their lives like? I wonder. Could I live here, in the peace and quiet of the country?

These pictures move me. Not because they’re stellar pieces of photography, but because of the blue tones of the late evening light. The grass and the fences. And the silos. And the telephone wires strung across the sky, criss-crossing with the airplane trails.

Maybe I feel this way because I was born here. Came back to go to college. Fell in love here. Got married here.

I can do the East coast, and spent three happy but hard years in Newark, Delaware. I loved visiting the West coast and tramping about rainy Seattle. I love my surrogate home country of Spain, and cried the last time I saw its dry landscape rise up under me as the plane landed. And I adored my time studying abroad in Paris, with whole days spent wandering through its streets, half-lost but completely unconcerned, knowing that I would stumble across a Metro stop at some point.

But Midwestern America . . . it has me by the heartstrings.

I don’t know what the future holds, and I’ve learned that I can be happy anywhere–but I do know that this landscape stirs my heart and always will.