Call Me "Bugs"

Or NOT! Very rarely do I like to look at photos of myself or talk about myself. I talk a lot and I mean A LOT about things I have done and tell other's stories but in all honesty, don't dig too deep when it comes to me, myself and Bugs. Bugs was my nickname as a child. The story goes that my dad and grandpa were looking at me in the nursery of the hospital and one of them said I wasn't any bigger than a potato bug. Shorten that and I became Bugs. That name has produced different emotions as time has gone by. After my mother and father divorced, I did not hear my dad call me that again. My mom did, however and often. When I was younger, I liked it when she called me Bugs because that was my special name for her alone. In my teen years and early twenties, being such a mature person (yeah), I really despised it and cringed whenever my mom called me that in front of friends or in public. Now, I love it again and realize how special a nickname is. What it means to have someone like or love you enough to call you a "pet" name. An endearment, a time honored "tag" that evokes emotions like many other words, ordinary everyone, words can't.

Another nickname I had came from my grandparents. I was very close to both of them when I was younger. My grandma is part German and called me weitz or weitzy. I love and have always loved this name. No matter how many times they have called me this name, my heart still starts beating slightly faster with pride. It could have meant big cow butt and it still would make me puff up with pride that I had a my own special name from birth from people I loved very much.

My cousin Faith, one of the funniest people you will ever meet, is the person who got me thinking about the picture below. This is little 'ole me feeding my grandma's chickens. We used to "milk" the chickens. I would say this every time we went to feed the chickens and my sweet grandma would laugh every time. This picture hung on my grandma's living room wall for many years before she gave it to me for Christmas one year. It holds a special place in my heart full of good memories and innocence. Bringing back the days I would line up my grandma's shoes in her living room and put each pair on her over and over again like a fashion show. Or my grandpa taking us grandkids for rides in the cart behind his lawnmower, their dog Wolfer trailing us the whole way.

My mom and dad on my Baptism Day.


What on earth were they feeding me?



The yellow pants don't bother me, what does are the pants I am wearing in this picture!