Michi, the Little Lantern Girl

An excerpt from The Little Lantern Girl:

On her sixty-third birthday, Susan began believing in fairy tales. She was a phlegmatic woman with her own vegetable garden. When she ran out of Cinderella stories, she made up her own as if it could make up for the tenth driving exam she failed to pass.

Every weekend her grandchildren, ages somewhere between four to eleven, flocked to her door armed with flowers. She often described her life as a Frenchified farmhouse once upon a time. Something about the way she said this always frightened them. Elaine, the eldest and bravest, was paid a dime by her parents to say, "Please tell us about the little lantern girl, Gramma."

Bwuaaaaahaaahaaaaa!! Let's see if I can find an editor for this silliness.  

On a more serious note: 4th driving lesson scheduled for tomorrow. Don't try to deny it, I know some of you are already calling 911. I know by the sound of you out there cutting your toenails.

Name error reflection:

After re-tracking my conversations with people, I'm rather sheepish to say that it's probably my fault people mistake my name so often. I think I've managed to convey a lot of negative subliminal messages on the importance I place in my name—

• Three weeks ago, the hairdresser called me Ange. I said yes, that's me.
• Three months ago, the yoga instructress called me Aline. I said yes, that's me.
• A year ago, an editor —who after years of working with me and never getting my name wrong— finally ceded and wrote Angela on a check. The banker who cashed it never questioned whether or not it was me.
• Five years ago, the pizza delivery fellas wrote Ellen on their computer. Every time I order, I say yes, that's me.
• More than twenty years ago, my brother's friend mistook me for my sister and called me Angie. Not wanting to embarrass him, I said yes, that's me.
• My parents, bless them, began everything by calling me An-lin (since they've got a bit of —erm— problem pronouncing "r"). What else could I say but yes, that's me?