Pretty by Any Other Name...

Tim always called me "Pammy Sue." Sue is not my middle name, and there's only one friend who ever really calls me Pammy on a regular basis, but that's what Tim called me. He called Brenda "Brenda Sue," and I'm pretty sure he called Linda "Linda Sue." I don't think I ever heard him call Neal "Nealy Sue," and that's probably for the best.

Somewhere around Sunday evening, it dawned on me that I won't hear Tim call me Pammy Sue again, and I won't roll my eyes at him about it again, and that got me to thinking about all the names I've answered to through the years. 

My grandfather, my mom's dad, called me Pamela. I have a friend at church who always calls me Pamela now, and I like the sound of it. In Saving Mr. Banks, every time Tom Hanks said the name "Pamela" on screen, I kind of imagined he was talking right to me. Pamela is my given name, and I like it. When my church friend says, "Good morning Pamela," on Sunday, I usually respond, "Good Morning Markela!" Then it's his turn for the eye roll!

My grandfather was Italian, and he spoke with a thick accent until the day he passed. When I was born, he misunderstood my name to be "Poundala." He thought that was silly! But for years, my dad called me Poundala. I remember that I liked the sound of that, too. It was a little weird, and my friends questioned it, but that's what Dad called me. 

In high school, I had a friend who called me Peppy. She said it was because I was so upbeat, and then she said it was short for pepperoni, which I am not sure I understand, but we went with it. We went with it so far that, when I started dating Sweetie, she started calling him The Mozz (short for mozzarella because, you know, the cheese is all over the pepperoni on the pizza!). I'm not sure I've ever told Sweetie that. Well, Babe, that's the way it was.

Sweetie calls me Hon. Short. Sweet...to the point, Hon. I suppose that it's technically only a partial name...not even the full "Honey," but those three letters still manage to convey love, humor, tenderness, frustration, compassion or even anger at times. After 28 years together, there is no name I enjoy hearing more than that one...it's my favorite. I love to hear him call me Hon.

I call myself Pretty in the blog, and in many places online. When I started blogging, it was to protect my family's identity more than my own, but now it's part of who I am. I am Pretty. I don't need a pair of pants to tell me that, because I am Pretty! I don't need to be always perfect or always right, because in the end, at least I know that I am Pretty...and Knitty. I am Pretty Knitty, and this is my pretty knitty life. Want proof? Here's some knitting (and some cat):

My knitting is pretty knitty, too!

Thanks for stopping by. I know that the blog has been pretty emotional these last few posts, and my hope is that some of that may be helpful to friends and family who have suffered their own losses. Life and emotions are messy, but no one should have to do it alone. So, no matter what you call me, feel free to stop in and be friendly anytime. One can never have too many friends, or too much chocolate, or too much pretty (or knitty, right?).

And if you knit, I hope that you will Knit in Good Health!