I named a PDT today. ...That is, I named one of those little hand-held devices used for scanning books and CDs and stuff at work. At the new store, we're naming them as well as numbering them, and I am proud to announce that Cimorene (#06) has joined Mr Darcy, Chip Whitley, Iphigenia, Ranger, and some Russian chap in the ranks.

In thinking about all the possible names (Robin Goodfellow? Boxy Lady? Blanche? Snape?), I realized that I go by a great many more names myself these days. And, what's funny, the nicknames are almost lost in the tone with which they're spoken---or by whom they're spoken. I almost don't answer to the name itself so much as I answer to that tone and that person using it.

"Kimi" has long been a nickname of mine, but one of which I've always been rather wary. I'm not really a "Kimi," not in the typical cheerleader, bubbly, cute, sweet sense. So only a few members of my family use that name. And coming from them, it doesn't feel in the least like that sweet stereotype. Now, though, several people from my work call me that. Only they're the people who seem to know me best, and---again---coming from them, the name fits perfectly. From anyone else, though? I cringe.

I also go by "Lea" at work, since I'm one of three Kims. It's not a name I dislike, by any means, but I also didn't expect it to stick---not in my mind, anyway. But another of those close work friends coined the nickname, and I find myself whipping around every time I hear it...even when the person using it isn't talking to me.

And then there's "Fred" who calls me "Ginger." We rarely work together, but I've been increasingly thinking of myself as a Ginger. Not as in Rogers, but as the spice or the ale, as a hard G sound, even as a "Ginger Lea"...is it appropriate that I can mispronounce that as "gingerly"?

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