what's in a name

Ah, so much to say! But not all in one post. First of all, I'm sure that everyone who reads my blog AND watches American Idol thought of me on Wednesday night when Bucky was voted off! YAY!!!! I was whooping and dancing around in my living room! I don't know why Elliott was in the bottom three, but that's another post. I'm already predicting that Ace will go home next week.

On Wednesday, I made a trip to my local Publix. We were out of food and I also needed to make a deposit - our bank is located inside Publix. On my way out of the house, I remembered that I had a pair of pants that needed to be dry cleaned. OK, I have like 4 things in my wardrobe that have to be dry cleaned, because I hate paying for someone else to clean my clothes. And I hate waiting on them to be finished, etc.

With that said, the dry cleaners are right next to Publix, so I took the pants in and set them up on the counter. The lady behind the desk asked for my phone number. I gave it to her, and when she typed it in the computer, she realized I hadn't been there before. So she asked me for my last name. I told her, she said to spell it, so I did. I watched as she typed S-O-S. "That's a new one," I thought!

Then came the first name debacle. She asked, so I said Kerri. I didn't bother to spell it, because by now, I don't even CARE how people spell my name. I figured she'd type CARRIE and we'd get on with it. I needed to get a roast in the oven.

And then, of course, she asked me to spell it. I said - K-E-R-R-I. She typed and furrowed her brow at the monitor. "K-A-R-I-E?" "No," I said, "K-E-R-R-I." I mean, how hard is it? She's looking right at my face - it's not like she can't understand me. Then she goes, "K...."

Me: Yes, K. E.
Her: A.
Me: No, E. K-E.
Her: K, E, I?
Me: K-E-R. K-E-R-R-I.
Her: K....E....(still frowning at the monitor)

By this point, I realize that I have my deposit slip in my hand. I carefully place my thumb DIRECTLY under my first name and show it to her. "Here. Look at this." She examines the deposit slip, then takes it out of my hand. She looks back and forth from the deposit slip to the monitor. After some more slow typing, staring, and scowling, she hands it back. "OK," she says, "Got it."

Then she tells me that the pants will be ready Friday after 5:00. I thank her, and she prints my receipt. I look at the receipt and giggle all the way down the sidewalk to Publix.

It says, "KARERE SOS."