I have a lot of Debbie’s in my life. There are four women named Debbie who may or may not come up occasionally in our family conversations. JPW is not good with names, and you’d think this would be easy for him to remember, but no, it just causes more confusion. Just another morning car ride conversation:
JPW: All of the Debbie’s you know talk with an accent.
Me: Umm, no, that’s not true, my friend Debbie the speech pathologist, is very well spoken and articulate, she has no accent.
JPW: Your friend Debbie is a speech pathologist? I thought she was unemployed.
Me: Well, she’s retired, not really the same thing.
JPW: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Your friend Debbie is YOUR age, how the hell is she retired?
Me: Ooooooooh, not that friend Debbie, my other friend Debbie, my former co-worker, remember, she’s the retired woman I used to teach with, she gave Ryann that Nursery Rhymes book and has a daughter in St. Augustine.
JPW: Oh, yeah, I remember her. We need to come up with some nicknames for all these Debbie’s.
Me: Ok, well how will you keep them straight, since it’s not a problem for me.
JPW: DebbieMom, well that’s your mom, that’s an easy one. DebbieMom’sFriend, that’s the Debbie who helps your Grandmother and is your mom’s friend. DebbieFormerGirlScout, that’s YOUR friend Debbie and DebbieTeacher, that’s the former teacher friend lady.
Me: ::giggles:: Ok. Whatever works.