My life is one continuous debate over crucial events, one after the other. It's cumbersome to be me.
When I adopt a new greyhound, I agonize for days over just the right name for them. Truthfully, it didn’t take me this long to name my daughter, old what’s her face. I think I picked her name out of a hat.
My female greyhounds are named Kira and Sabrina; we lost Miranda two years ago. Aren’t they magnificent names, perfect for magnificent animals? I think so too. I had to be sure I picked lovely little names for lovely little girls.
We wanted manly football names for our boys. Ben, who we also lost two years ago, was named for the Quarterback of the Steelers, burly Ben Rothlesberger. My boy Cooper was named after the elder Manning brother of the same name. My husband, the Giants fan, wanted to name him Eli but I refused so we compromised and went with the least offensive of the Manning boys’ names. I mean let’s face it; Eli and Peyton would be ridiculous names for dogs. Hell, they're ridiculous names for humans.
Our newest addition is Gunnar. Could anything possibly be any manlier? We got the idea from former NY Jets QB Boomer Esiason who has a son who goes by the same name.
Then there’s my boy Tiger. Since Tiger was born on Christmas day we decided to stray from the sports arena and go with something that would convey the Holiday spirit. When we couldn’t think of anything, we picked Tiger.
I just tell people he was the 4th and lesser-known Wise Man.
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