The cold, Damaria and marriage

1. Fingerless Gloves. The temps dropped to considerable chill-degrees around here. Given my house is made to battle blazing February temps, rather than June's Arctic chill, my hands began to freeze. But gloves + typing is rather awkward. So I mused to Damaria if I should have a friend make me a pair of fingerless gloves, or would the cold spell be over? She pointed out that even if it warmed up, there was always next year.

So I went to email my friend when I thought, "This is stupid. You are supposed to be a knitter. It is high time you got over your issues with dpns (double pointed needles), esp since you already use them to finish hats." So I made them. And yes, the day after I cast off the temps hit 25C.

Regardless, I have now named my first pair of hand-knit fingerless mitts, Damaria, in honour of the woman who inspired me to push my knitting boundaries. Besides, they claim this warm-spat is temporary.

2. Marriage. According to the Catholic church I have been wed nine years today. This is not the same as being legally married, which matters none to anyone unless religion is your thing. As the story of Antigone brilliantly illustrates, the law of the land and the law of one's religion are often two very separate issues. And no, Husband is not Catholic. Neither is the British Government, who maintains I've been married nearly ten.

As for all the mushy stuff, I shall spare you. Husband knows, and that's quite enough. Suffice to say, we're still married, both legally and religiously - which makes everyone happy.

What is interesting, however, is after nine years I still haven't come to terms with his last name.  You see, a long time ago the man, who would one day be known as Husband, broke the news that men in his family do not wear wedding rings. He made it clear this was not negotiable. I can't claim to be pleased. But arguing looked to be pointless, so I didn't. However, it did seem like the perfect opportunity to bring up the fact that I did not have the slightest inclination of taking on his unpronounceable and easily misspelt last name.

The man went out and bought a wedding ring.

Bugger.

Nine years. Do I confess how long it took to learn to spell it - or even say it? Doesn't help matters that that the French pronunciation (which is rather lovely to the ears) has been discarded for an Anglicised sound which reminds me of a certain brand of toothpaste. Sure, there are more instances than I care to consider where having a name that only thirty living souls lay claim to has saved my bureaucratic butt. And it is undeniable that my already sexist bank would probably be making my life ten-times worse if I hadn't agreed to take on Husband's name.

Ah, but I liked my last name. It meant something. It spoke of my people, my history. There is a legacy, from why I can’t spell, to why I adore books.  It never occurred to me that I would give it up and I still, nine years later, miss it. Nine years, it seems like I should be over it by now. Yet, to this day, when I hear Mrs Beautement, I blink. 

Here's to nine more years of adjustment.

 

Comments

[Po]

So I can guess the French pronounciation, but what is the anglicised?

Bow-te-ment?

I think my surname is pretty crappy (Brown) but my boyfriend's is a bit weird too (Fish). But we are not going to get married so I am lumbered with mine. But if we have kids, I think we should either let them choose or fish the names out of a hat, because the double barrel version is just ridiculous!

[tiah]

Beaut (like brute) - ta - ment

And given the number of letters in my original name, no, hyphenating was not an option. They don't make forms for that. Although Brown-Fish is rather unique.

[Shannon]

Anna Quindlen wrote a column many years ago that resonated with my then-teenage self, about why she didn't take her husband's name. She made many of the same points: the history that spoke of immigrants from the old country, the pride she'd felt at first seeing that name in print as a cub reporter at a newspaper, etc. As she said, "He didn't adopt me, he married me."

But I absolutely can get that it makes life much more difficult when it comes to dealing with schools, hospitals, banks, etc--although so many people now keep their names or have different surnames than their children that society is adjusting.