So Mrs. Owl and I are expecting another baby. Don't worry, I don't expect gushings or cigar passing. We are quite happy about it, no need to expect semi-strangers to feel the same way, you heartless succubi.
Anyhoo, we're doing the usual knock-down drag-out bare knuckle fighting that ensues when an otherwise normal couple tries to think of a what to name the baby.
Owlet was relatively easy. It was just a pretty (albeit a somewhat popular) name. No, not Owlet, the name we actually use. In real life. Where there are no links and blog rolls and tags and google adsense.
But this new one, he's going to be a he. Which I'm pretty ambiguous about, I guess. As long as they are healthy, etcetera. On the plus side, I don't have to worry about those hell-spawn boys slavering after another daughter. On the other hand, I have to worry about a child that will most likely think nothing about jumping off the roof of the car onto gravel "because it looked fun". So, pros, cons, whatever.
What follows are the names we've thought of, and some we wish never crossed our minds, and the sort of guy I'd imagine my son would grow up to be if he got the name (my profuse apologies if you have named your son this, or this is in fact your name):
Hank : Hank'll change your tire for ya. He's got some pretty serious opinions about the Boston Red Sox and fly fishing, otherwise, he's just a stand up sort of feller. He doesn't eat cereal unless it's hot, and parlsey is just another word for salad. Meat is either red or chicken.
Enzo : I immediately think of 'speed' when I hear this name. Perhaps because Ferrari's first name was Enzo. Perhaps because Enzo just strikes me as the sort of person who does parkour on the weekends and street luge every month.
Nikko : Nikko joined an Eastern European mafia outfit at the age of 13. He has voluminous chest hair and loves his gold rings. When he breaks knee caps, he doesn't use more force than is necessary and just has a admirable technique.
Stanley : A modern medical miracle, Stanley was born, fully formed, as a 67 year-old, complete with a trusty toolbox and a rocking chair. He doesn't think much about any single issue, relying, instead on tried and true cliches ("You can tell when a politician is lying because his lips are moving", "A only good lawyer is a dead one", "Drill baby, drill.").
Wyatt : I love this name. Mrs. Owl doesn't. This is the name of a guy who likes westerns, does bullriding on the weekend, and has retired from the career of smoke jumper to the more idyllic, slower lifestyle of a firefighter for a large uban metropolis. He drinks only one type of beer, you've never heard of it but it has 23% alcohol and three times the legal hops limit.
Matthias : Does watercolours soley about the large colon. Has a vintage tie-dye collection and only listens to Rush. Finds four-leaf clovers terrifying.