Ta-da!

I have decided for ease of reading, to finally reveal the names of my three daughters and husband. Not their actual, legal names, but nicknamed versions that are close enough.

S = Sarabelle
G = Gracie
L = Elle

G (spouse) = Jorge

The only reason I have resisted until now was the Google factor. My brother Googled up the first and last names of family members of an old family friend he was hoping to reconnect with and came up with a curious hit that stunned us all.

That's my old friend "Skipper." Stephen and I knew each other from birth through eighth grade. My mother is his Godmother. We called each other "cousins." We went our separate ways for high school, though I still saw him in our neighborhood wearing his newly affected black trenchcoat. The last time I spoke to him was when he attended the small reception after my first marriage. As a child, he was the only person, besides Uncle Ed, with whom I could enthusiastically discuss my rock collection. We once spent a sixth grade gym period indoors together, doing long division, convinced that we could discover the final digit in pi if we just worked it far enough. I used to think he was so smart that he could probably calculate the speed and pattern of falling rain, enabling him to dodge drops and stay dry during an afternoon deluge. I was convinced he would grow up to be a nuclear physicist. The last time I saw him was a couple years ago when Manson played at Ozfest in West Palm Beach, he was onstage, I was in the crowd.

Oh, yeah, so be careful with Google, okay?