Huh.

So, I just got an email referring to me by my husband's last name.

Today, a federal contractor referred to me by my husband's last name because he was told by the person he was investigating that that was my name.

I'm not offended by any of these things. It makes sense, especially for groups of people like the Rude Mechanicals, who knew me for all of twelve seconds before I got married.  They're just surreal. I always want to blink a couple times and ask, "I'm sorry, who?" Four years may be a little early to make such a pronouncement, but I don't ever think I'll self-refer to myself by my husband's last name. When I try to, I always trip over it or hesitate. It's not that I don't love him or don't want to be married. That's just not... me, I guess. Now, the hyphenated version just rolls off the tongue, even as long and kinda wacky as it is (it involves a z and two sets of double ses). Which tells me that I made the right decision. I keep calling myself what I called myself for thirty-one years before I got married, and I have a graphical connection to my husband and daughter. Win, win.

Just a stray deep thought for the day.