Baby names

So I fell down a rabbithole today.  I found the 2009 Alberta Baby Name list (  It’s ALL the baby names registered in the province last year.  Almost 100 pages of magic.  My goodness but there are some wacky names being used out there.  No offence intended to the surely loving parents, but I must say, I had quite a few giggles.  Like the poor little boy named Fiifi.  And the girl named Yoyo.  I had to wonder how many of these kids will petition for a legal name change by 15. 

Some other favourites for boys:

  • Cherubim
  • Ericlindross (David says this is grounds to have our own little LannyMcDonald.  I disagreed.)
  • Little (will spent his 20s introducing himself as “little, but big where it counts!”)
  • Nixxyn
  • Qiushi
  • Shiv
  • St. (street or saint, what’s your guess?)
  • Vlad (YES! Named because daddy impaled mommy and out came Vlad…)
  • Zaviyar/Zaxten/Zayaam/Zxavier/Zixu  (someones got a little excited by the end of the alphabet.)
 And for girls:
  • Angel  (There are 21 baby girls named Angel born last year.  21!  5 will probably become strippers.)
  • Bebe (see?  I could get away with naming my future hypothetical “Baby”!  Someone else did.)
  • Brier (HURRY HARD!)
  • Fury (careful of self-fulfilling prophecies)
  • Mischiefs
  • Narkie (she’s a tattletale.)
  • Oluwanifesimi
  • Rave (Mommy, why am I called Rave?  Well, baby, your daddy and I were at a rave and did a bunch of E, and then we made you!)
  • Sarah-Mohammad-Fawzy (named by a committee.)
  • Serenity-Sky (someone misses Firefly?)

So, what’s the most off the wall name you’ve run into?


Why does this feel easier than real school?

I’m writing a final today, for a Petroleum Geology course I’m taking at SAIT towards my Upstream Petroleum Industry Certificate.  Now, it’s rocks for jocks, basically. Which I took in university many years ago.  But I didn’t have grades like this.  Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this in an online course with open book tests (except for the final).  And it’s stuff I already partially know, either from university, or work, or listening to my mother’s lectures on plate tectonics in childhood.  The course came with a rock kit that was exactly the kind of thing I would have adored as a kid.  So it’s really, all in all, not a surprising that I’ve done well in this course.

But on the other hand, it’s strange.  I am the classic B student.  My whole life, I’ve achieved Bs.  Hard earned, gruelingly prepared for Bs in say, calculus, and easy Bs in world geography.  The amount of work rarely seemed to change the outcome.  (I went through school at an era where things were curved for a 70something average.  I swear my sister, 5 grades below, had everything curved for an 80something average.  She went through school in the Self Esteem Matters years…)   For the first time, doing the work seems to be followed through by good grades, and I find that very interesting.  Also, the work is so much easier.  Rattling off some facts about seismic surveys, or metamorphic rocks, or contour lines is pretty easy.  especially compared to writing a 20 page essay on the failure of military intelligence in the Falklands War, which is the stuff I used to do in school. 

Though, I should probably mention that I found 3 errors on the tests.  Two straight up incorrect answers.  (A seismic vibrosis truck is not an explosive!  Shale is a clastic rock!  How am I the first person to notice this??)   And I didn’t get all the answers right on assignment 1 right, but I’d written out my explanation of the reasons I wanted to drill in spot B, and she liked it and gave me the full marks.  (Drilling at the bottom of a creek bed that floods every year still doesn’t sound like a good answer to me.) 

Whatever.  I got a final to write, and as David points out, I basically only need 10% to pass the course. I think I should probably be fine…  🙂


I’m a reader.  I always have been, and given my daily c-train commute, I power through ~150 books a year.  A decently large number of books.  And I have finally, finally, given myself permission to not finish books that I am not enjoying.  It’s taken me until recently to get there – I used to basically feel if I committed to the first 50 pages, why on earth stop? I’m a fast reader, so it’s not like a book I am not enjoying takes that long to finish, right?

I put down a book the other day – I’d read it on my commute, so was maybe 60 pages in.  It was a British Lad Lit book, which is a genre I enjoy.  The book was funny enough, but it hit one of my Big Red Reader Buttons.  I can’t bear it in books (or in real life, for that matter) when the entire book could be resolved on page 4 if the people actually had a damn conversation.  Yeah, sure, it’s “funny” to read 300 pages of continuous misunderstandings and inability to talk like grownups.  Okay, it’s really not.  Listen, random British guy, if you’re unsure if that was a real proposal, talk about it!  ASK HER HOW SHE FEELS.  TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL.  ACT LIKE AN ADULT.  (I am just as all-caps in real life when people I know refuse to talk about stuff – I KNOW talking about stuff can be hard.  But do it anyway.  And then, much of the time, talking and making sure you are both on the same page?  Makes lots of stuff better!  Arrrg.)

There’s probably a lesson in here somewhere, but I’m too tired (and too interested in the next book) to care…

Borrowing trouble

So the basement and work continue to eat my life.  The basement has been patched, drywalled, painted, the floor is 2/3 done, the hearth is tiled.  We still need to: do baseboard, grout fireplace surround, get bar top, tile backsplash, CLEAN EVERYTHING, put all the stuff back, add shelves in the craft room, find/create cases for David’s two special hockey jerseys ( gameworn McDonald and Fluery, if you’re curious), setup computers, pass out on the couch half dead.  Add in the two+ jobs at work thing, and you have a pretty exhausted Morgan.  Whatever, I’ll live, but man, I’m ready for this reno to be done.  (We’ll break the 10K mark any day now.  Sigh.) 

My mother continues to drive me batty.  She’s currently going through her teenage years, complete with “it’s complicated” boyfriend, heavy drinking and new career plans.  While I’m happy that she’s happy, it’s a little weird to take calls from your mother at work where she talks about drinking in the park out of a paper bag, you know?  (And worse.  Yikes.)  A year ago, she told me that if I had a child, it would heal all of her emotional wounds (mainly from my father’s death, I’m assuming).  Now?  Every other time we talk (until my sister called her out and made her stop) she brings up the fact that she’s not ready to be a grandma and that I shouldn’t have a kid yet.  Yes.  Not just once.  More like 6 times over the course of a couple of months.  So.  Thoughts.  Clearly, eventually I will be pregnant and need to tell her.  I know I’m borrowing trouble, but the thought of that fills me with fear.  Because she is the QUEEN of misreacting. 

I wrote a long post about her for A Practical Wedding, and rereading it, I sound all sane and calm and rather at peace about this.  This feels different.  Because there’s a life at stake, not a wedding?  (And could I BE any more fucking dramatic?)  But as David points out, when it happens, I’ll eventually have to tell her.  Otherwise, she’ll start getting critical of my weight, and that will just be annoying.

My in-laws are lovely.  They were in town for a family wedding in June, and one night my father in law got drunk and told us about how he didn’t want to pressure us in any way (he repeated this about seven times) but he just wanted us to know that when we are ready to have kids, they are totally ready and will be very supportive and happy.  Not that he wants to pressure us, he said (slurred?) but that he wanted us to know that they were ready and would be supportive.  No pressure!  It was really cute, and clearly came from a happy place.

Yeah, I totally beat David in the in-law game.  I get this lovely couple, and he gets my mother…