0️⃣0️⃣3️⃣ Ode to Naming Things

From salt and pepper shakers to the voice in your head...

For a long time, I thought it was just my family: we’re the oddballs who name everything. But thankfully we’re not alone. Take Rubi McGrory of Iridescent Ordinary. She names stuff, too. Apparently, lots of people do. Rubi explores why here.

After reading Rubi’s post, I started thinking about why my family, in particular, names things.

Maybe it’s because we don’t have a pet. Maybe if we had a doggo named Kitty or Angus or Ted Lasso, we wouldn’t be so stuck on naming things. Maybe it’s a very good thing we don’t have a dog.

I didn’t grow up naming things. But I had pets—dogs that stayed outside or in the shop because that is what animals do when you’re on a farm. We had Caesar and Bear and Rebel and Roxy. We had tom cats that came and went if they were lucky to escape the call of a warm engine on a cool harvest night, cats named Spooky and Ziggy. I did have one object with a moniker, a matted second-hand stuffed blue dog vaguely reminiscent of Huckleberry Hound. I named him—wait for it—Floppy Neck.

Once my husband and I had kids, things started taking on names at an alarming rate.

Our twins’ beloved stuffed dogs (I sense a canine motif) were called Milkshake and Apple Sauce.

My husband’s red minivan became Clifford.

But the naming didn’t start (or stop) with Clifford, the big red van.

Our kids named our neighbourhood playground The Dee-Yuh-Yuh, because that’s the sound two-year-old twins make when they go down the slide.

Somehow, my husband and I even named the white noise machine (Step 7 of my 12-step process to fall asleep). It is The Guppy. Most nights, one of us breaks into a parody of Sesame Street’s jazzy hit, “Put Down the Ducky.”

Is “Put Down the Ducky” an earworm for you yet? If not, perhaps you need the image of Ernie trying to play the saxophone while holding his rubber ducky (Rubber Ducky needs a better name—Mold Collector, perhaps?—but I digress). Earworm bait:

Instead of “You better put down the ducky,” my husband or I will sing, “You better put on The Guppy.” We keep going with made-up lyrics, but I’ll spare you the full-on parody that’s not exactly Weird Al worthy.

Years ago, my kids also named their blankets, mostly after the people who made them.

“Do you want your Grandma blanket?”

“No, I’ll take the Auntie Darlene.”

The naming is incessant. And I am here for it.

A year or two ago, I bought USB-chargable automatic salt and pepper grinders. My now-adult twins can’t stop teasing me about this purchase. It’s not “Pass the salt and pepper”; it’s “Pass The Boujees.”

Introducing KaChunk

I want to name our lawn mower Grass Isn’t Always Green(er)—Greeny for short.

I want to name our Instant Pot Regret.

I want to name the judgy voice in my head I Don’t Remember Asking You a Godd*mn Thing.

Let’s name all the things. The world needs more sentences like, When passing the dee-yuh-yuh, I turned Clifford around because not only did I leave on the guppy, but I forgot to charge the boujees.

Or maybe not (says I Don’t Remember Asking You a Godd*mn Thing).

Do you name things? Let me know in the comments if you like.

May wonder be ever in your favour.