Stay at Aum Mom: What's In A Name.

I have decided that it is imperative that I name more things in my life.

My husband made a comment this morning, totally innocent, that indicated that perhaps my range of emotion has been somewhat... stunted... of late. I have been alternating between two primary moods: quite contented and royally pissed off.

So I'm trying to invite more of the pragmatically silly back into my world. I have this reputation for being.. um.. somewhat sassy, and I seem to have lost touch with my sass recently. And because all things silly inspire me to pucker up and bestow some ~~tongue~~ sass, I have decided to start with the naming of several inanimate objects. Mostly because this will assist me in swearing at them in a more personal way when they refuse to operate as advertised and/or expected.

First: the Minivan of Denial. Yes, the vehicle I begrudgingly accepted to replace my sleek little malibu and have thoroughly filled with an assortment of children, cracker crumbs, and sticky mystery stains. Oh, the "Rocker Mom!" window sticker helped to ease the sting, but at the end of the day it is still a minivan. Also, the battery seems to revolt at irregular intervals and leaves me stranded and dependent on the pity of strangers. And we all know how well I do with that whole "interacting with strangers" thing. (And if you don't already know, it involves lots of nervous shuffling, averting of eyes, and occasional bouts of uncontrollable sobbing.)
So won't you help me come up with an appropriate moniker for my silver torpedo of doom? I think it should be a male name, but I'm not sure if a van that carries a womb-full of children can really be male, so I'll leave this one up-in-the-air as far as gender for now. (Perhaps a good unisex name?)

Second: this Laptop. It was an exorbitantly expensive Christmas gift... back in 2003. Now? Well, now it is a 5-year-old computer that intermittently freezes up, reboots for no reason, and has, on at least one occasion, blind-sided me with the blue screen of death (and I swear to you it cackled maniacally when that happened. Really! It wasn't just in my head! The voices would have told me.) Her name should be the kind you'd associate with a vindictive ex-girlfriend.

Third: the Lawn Mower. The Lawn Mower has not given me any actual grief; in fact, it is one of the few pieces of equipment that works exactly as expected around here. It's one of those spiffy "one stroke" jobs, and it never fails to rev up on the first try. Also, it provides me with at least an hour of peace out in the sunshine whenever I fire that bad boy up. His name should be one I can holler affectionately as I approach from across the yard; the name of someone you'd want to share a little camaraderie with over beers.

Finally: the Dryer. The washer requires no name, as it so far works exactly as expected, which is to say not very well but about what you'd expect from an 8-year-old model. But the dryer.. well.. the deal with the dryer is that it works just fine. It dries clothes, and as long as you remember to set it on the "medium" heat setting it won't also melt them into a pile of smoldering ash. But the VENT HOSE. (Yes, I know I used all caps. Believe me, in this case it was warranted.) This dryer seems intent on detaching the vent hose at every opportunity. The rolls - yes, ROLLS - of duct tape I have gone through hooking that monstrosity back together - you would not believe. And yet, after a week or so of running satisfactory operation, suddenly an invisible opening will appear up there, where I have to stand on a ladder to even see it, and mysterious clouds of laundry lint will start to wend their way down from the ceiling.

Yes, the dryer is perhaps the most sinister appliance of all. Its name should be something particularly loathsome... like, perhaps, Darth Sidious. Or Beelzebub.

So my challenge to you, dear readers, is this: Either in the comments or via email (melkist at gmail dot com) please to be sending me your suggestions for these names. The winners will receive... uh.. my undying gratitude? And maybe a small token of some sort if I can think of something appropriate for the occasion. I can make no promises, as I am just now remembering that we need to buy more toilet paper before we're all reduced to using leaves from the lilac bush outside. The pregnant brain, it is not so good at the remembering, but I'll do my best.

Perhaps a signed photo of one of the other named creatures from our abode

Master Django McQueen de Mardi Gras...