Name Changes

I got an email from Esmé the other day; in it, she referred to her friend Jenifer. I replied back to her:

And how can a Jenifer spell her name with just one "n"?! That's so, so, well, it's just not right, that's all. I think I'll start spelling my name "Chyntt".

Esmé got tickled by this, and forwarded the line on to Jenifer, who then responded with:

Please tell Chyntt to lecture my mother on this. I have been dealing with this my whole life.

So I wrote to Jenifer:

Mom!! See what you've started? You thought you were being creative with your daughter's name, but the ramifications have now spilled over and affected a man you don't even know, so that after 40-some-odd (mumble mumble) years, he's lost control of his own name. I strongly urge you to build a time-travel device and go back to rectify this situation. Else, the rift in the time-name continuum will just get larger, and soon we'll be seeing "Myke"s, "Daevid"s, and "Lue-eez"s running all over the planet. If a halt is not brought to this unnatural order of things, by the time Jenifer presents you with grandchildren, you yourself will have succumbed, and will have become "Garanmahmah". Is this really what you want?

Ever since then, I've been known as "Chyntt". So much for repairing the time-name continuum.

Westing Peacefully

Esmé told me last week that I was fat.

I knew that. Yet, because of the context of the situation, I took it to heart more deeply.

Accordingly, I've given up on elevators (at least for the first 3 floors, and maybe 4 -- haven't yet decided) in favor of using the stairs. I might also make other changes, but I'm going to see how well I do with just this one change first.

The power of a woman. Awesome.