I've had a request from one of my most frequent readers (no, not you, Mom) to explain the origin of my blog name and by-line.
And so, I shall tell you the story, dear readers.
Once upon a time, way back in 2006, I began writing this little blog. Truth be told, I was trying to comment on someone else's blog, and it seems like the blog required me to have a blogger login. So I fell back on my old faithful, sdfgarcia.
I think it's awfully nice that my parents named me with the initials "SDF" and super nice that I married MrG, so now my initials are SDFG. Type it out. Go ahead and see how nice it feels to have your left hand just tap in rhythm across the keys. It feels good, huh? But I digress.
sdfgarcia has kind of been my go-to name for "stuff" like websites, emails, etc. It just followed that I would use that to create a blogger login.
So I created my login, and then I figured since I had it, I may as well use it. I wrote and wrote and sometimes people found me, but more often than not, they didn't. Was it my totally lame ass boring blog name? Probably, but I'll never know.
Because, dear readers, everything changed late in the night on September 1, 2008. I got a call from my BFF, who lives only a mile or so away. Here is how the call went, more or less:
Lady Steele: Hello. You're calling late.
BFF: Yes. I know. Do you have any bolt cutters?
Lady Steele: Why yes, I believe we do. I think they are in the room where we keep the car.
BFF: Can you get them and come over right away?
Lady Steele: Why yes, of course. Whatever has happened?
BFF: You know the metal baby gate between the living room and the foyer?
Lady Steele: Yes, I believe I do.
BFF: Well, Toby has managed to get his head wedged between two bars, and we can't get him out!
Lady Steele: Holy mother of pearl! I will be there forthwith!!
And away I galloped.
Actually, I went into the room where we keep the car, found the bolt cutters, and hauled ass in my dorky red minivan to my best friend's house, where we proceeded to pry the metal baby gate open enough to release one very scared little weinee dog. (I should note for the record that no animals were harmed in the naming of this blog).
My BFF is a notorious night owl, and I suspect after her scare that she was up for hours just working off adrenaline. Nevertheless, when I awoke the next morning, I had an email thanking me for my late night trip over to save her (she would have done the same for me, and more!). In the email, she said I reminded her of a superhero, charging forth on my crimson steed, boltcutters ever at the ready.
And a superhero was born! Well, not born, but definitely named.
I do consider myself a modern superhero. I parent full time. I work full time. I do laundry ALL the damn time. I manage a house full time. Ok, so maybe the manage a house part is only part time, but I pay the damn maids to fill in the parts I can't or won't handle. I'm on the PTA. I'm a soccer mom.
Maybe I don't make the most money or keep the cleanest house or feed my family the best meals ever, but I do a pretty good job at covering the bases most of the time. And for that, I consider myself a modern superhero. As I consider every other working schmuck mom out there who holds down a full time job, then comes home every evening to start her second job.
I went to a terrific Thanksgiving potluck at a dear friend's house last month, and I was so thrilled when one of her guests hopped up, hugged me and said "you're Lady Steele!" As great as my initials are, nobody ever called me by them at a potluck. So I figure, I've got a winner.
Also, I think it's a nice tribute to my BFF, who is there for me always, asking nothing in return, except maybe a late night trip to her house with a tool of one sort or another.
And there you have it friends, a tale of the birth of a modern superhero. I hope it was worth the wait.