So...I finally did it. Yup. I committed. I've always heard you should decide within the first two years of a relationship if it is going to be long-term -- or if you should call it quits altogether. The clock was ticking and I said, "I do." Ummm...wish to blog, that is.
I've mulled it over for quite some time -- probably even longer than the allotted 24 months mentioned above. I've checked out my friends' blogs. I've checked out my friends' friends' blogs. I've checked out blogs about parenting and blogs about relationships and blogs about weight loss. Oh, yeah -- and a great one about cake wrecks that is truly a favorite (hence the need to continue to check out the ones about weight loss). But I just couldn't commit to writing one myself.
What the heck could I write about? Who the heck wants to read it? Will it be anywhere near as funny as the stuff I read that other people write? Where do people come up with this stuff? Do they make it up, or is life really that crazy? What happens if I run out of stuff to say? (Okay, I know that last one is probably a longshot, but go with me here.) But the one that really stumped me...for the better part of two years: What the heck will I name my own blog?
Yup. I got hung up on a name. I can hardly believe it myself. Yet, the screen that always stopped me from going further required me to type in the name of my blog and check to see if the URL was available. Man, that felt like a load of pressure. Now I know why writing isn't something that brings home the bread and butter for me. How the heck could I write anything when I couldn't get past the title page? Sheesh!
And yet, I couldn't get Juliet out of my head. Yes, Juliet. The one from that famous love story. (Kinda appropriate to write about at the end of Valentine's Day, dontcha think???) "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Right. Got it, girlfriend. It's not the name that matters, it's what's underneath. But still...what the heck am I supposed to name this thing? And then it came to me...
I was on the phone last night, trying to correct a problem with a package I received that isn't mine. I won't go into the whole story here, because I have realized that will give me fodder for at least another blog entry or two -- so let's just say that it was a completely convoluted conversation. Near the end of it, the customer service rep I was speaking with asked a question to confirm my phone number and got things really mixed up -- and I just lost it, in a hysterical laughter kind of way. It had been a crazy day, from start to finish and I realized it was Friday the 13th as well as a full moon. I mentioned that to the guy on the other end of the phone and said something like, "I gotta shake this purple haze, " and he cracked up too.
I wish I could claim that name as an original idea, but anyone who has ever heard of Jimi Hendrix would know better. Jim's mother was an English teacher in Coldwater for years, and her students called her "Purple" with a play on her last name. Quite a few of them transferred the name to Jim and, after his mother's passing some years ago, it seemed to stick that he would be referred to that way. We play around with our last name(s) in this house all the time (and, as a Kruse, I can't tell you how many people would say stuff like "Kruse control" when I was growing up) so this is nothing new. Don't hurl when I tell you I sometimes call my hubby "Jim Hayes-i-um" and it makes him laugh. He calls me "Kruser" and I give him a light slap. :-)
After the phone call, that name just made sense. Ever since becoming a mother, I swear my brain has been taken over by aliens. I often ask Jim the same question right after the first inquiry because I didn't hear the answer. Most of the time, it's because Declan decides to hit "play" on his Elmo music book at the same time Jim answers; sometimes, it just doesn't register. I used to be organized. Things got put away in their proper places, and my floor was clean enough to eat from. Now, I feel like I've accomplished something if we're all dressed and fed, with teeth brushed and coats on before the bus comes. Some days, we even make it out the door wearing matching socks!
Since I hear most other moms with similar stories of disorganization and sleep deprivation, I know it's not unique to me. But still, I figured there had to be a better name for it than "Mommy brain" which was my old standby. I think Hendrix's "Purple Haze" (drug references aside), with a play on the last name, described it perfectly.
So, I decided to put it into print tonight. I typed in the name in the "check URL" space and held my breath while I hit the "enter" key...and found the name had been taken. Crap! After all of that time spent deliberating I finally had it and then -- BAM! The wind was taken right out of my sails. Who else could possibly have thought about naming their blog "Purple Hayes?" I mean, really -- exactly how many Jimi Hendrix fans are out there anyway?
