(me and my little brother)A lot of the kids I knew had boring initials, like SKR or GFH, senseless combinations that spelled nothing. Mine? Mine were cool. Mine were relevant to the poofy-bangs, leggings and legwarmers, MC-Hammer-pants era in which we lived.
I was RAP.
I have never scored very high on the cool-o-meter, so I took what I could get.
In case you can't guess, we just got married. The wedding was a blast, and I'll post some more pictures as I get them. There are so many new things to get used to - living in a new house, figuring out what sort of toothpaste to buy and how we like our eggs. I was expecting all these kinds of things, but I hadn't really given much thought to the whole name-change process. I've only jumped through a few of the 27 flaming hoops required to become Rachel Gates, but it's started to dawn on me that, huh, I have a new name (there are so many theological parallels that I could go into here!!! That will have to be an addendum for later).
And changing my name is a good thing, something I've chosen to do, and I'm so glad that I have the privilege of being identified in name with my husband. But I can't help feeling a tiny twinge of second-grade nostalgia when I think that I will no longer be RAP.
Now? I'm RAG.
As I rock out to a little Police and Rick Springfield, I grin at my own nerdy-ness.
'Cause I think I'm still pretty cool.
And changing my name is a good thing, something I've chosen to do, and I'm so glad that I have the privilege of being identified in name with my husband. But I can't help feeling a tiny twinge of second-grade nostalgia when I think that I will no longer be RAP.
Now? I'm RAG.
As I rock out to a little Police and Rick Springfield, I grin at my own nerdy-ness.
'Cause I think I'm still pretty cool.
