on Coming to Terms, and Pearls

Years ago I attended a lecture at BYU about the concept "to be."   Yes I did.
The speaker talked all about and around being - for one thing, the admonition "be ye therefore perfect" - and at one point he said something like, "But who ever said that you'll be happy if you achieve your dreams?"

Uhhh, what?

Here's the thing:  I got it.  I understood what he was saying then, and I've understood it ever since.   Dreams aren't everything, and achieving them won't necessarily bring you happiness - especially if they're the wrong dreams in the first place.  Subsequent years have brought poignant reminders of where my true happiness lies.

Which isn't to say I have followed his counsel faithfully.  Indeed, a couple months ago I read this article (thanks C. Jane) and was surprised to find myself in it:

 “They can’t bear the thought that saying yes to one interest or opportunity means saying no to everything else, so they spend years hoping that the perfect answer will emerge. What they don’t understand is that they’re looking for the perfect answer when they should be looking for the good-enough answer.”

Folks, that's me right there. Was? Is?  Hard to say.  I like to keep my options open.  Throughout my school years I was waiting for the perfect answer to present itself, the one career choice (or multiple career choices) that would challenge and fulfill me in every way, while still leaving room for life changes and family.  And, hey, I wanted it for my husband too.

(Newsflash: Doesn't Exist! Work is work and Tiger Woods has problems too!)

Over the last year Slice and I have come to grips with multiple realities: money, time, family, opportunity.  We've had to let go of prejudices and dreams in order to find answers and build other dreams.  It's been a long, slow process.  Often painful.

But we are doing it.  Slice loves his new job.  He really does.  Which is a FAR cry from the misery that was last summer at the golf course BEFORE he got fired.

And, I'll admit it, I love the paychecks.  I love having Slice home almost half the time and seeing him happy the other half.  I love planning dates and trips and investments.
I love the string of (real!) pearls that he brought home for me Saturday, completely out of the blue....

Friday

It might be exaggerating - but only a little - to say that I have never been so excited for a day as I am for tomorrow.

Pay Day!

After ten (or more) months of scrimping and stressing, I can't even tell you how nice it will be to have a steady paycheck coming in.  I imagine only those who have experienced unemployment know what a depressing, deadening state it is.

We have big plans for Slice's first few paychecks .... you know, like toilet paper and medical bills and underwear and a sideview mirror that's been broken since last October.  Also possibly loans and maxed credit cards and family members that we owe for various things.  So exciting.

photo from 2/09...

SAHM

Slice started his "real" work today.  After a week of OSHA training (complete with disturbing images) and a week of phone calls, this is the beginning of the end.
(Just kidding.)

The schedule is 8-on 6-off, so although we won't see much of him for more than week at a time, we'll also have time for family vacations and things.  A welcome change - at the golf course we couldn't plan ANYTHING because he didn't know his schedule until days beforehand, and he had to work all holidays unless the weather was bad, in which case we couldn't really travel anyway.  Lame.

So...

I'm trying to remember what to do with all this time on my hands!  My research stint is on hold due to a major accident; I don't have a sewing machine or any projects that don't require money to complete.  I can't play piano while Liam is asleep and if I clean my whole house today, what will I do for the next 8 days?

Blog??

Out of the Woods

It's been well over seven months since Slice worked at the golf course, and our plans have changed at least 89 times since then. (Oilfield - school - Jackson Hewitt - Arizona - Asia - South Carolina - oilfield again - pump repair - Utah Valley - to name a few things seriously considered.)  Alas, none of the plans worked out.

We've seen miracles large and small, set up house, watched our son grow from a baby to a rollicking toddler, healed a broken wrist, and irritated each other a bunch.

(Have any of you spent months on end with your spouse in a limited space? And survived?  Because I think we've both come to realize that there are very good reasons one of us works outside the home, and possibly, that things were meant to be that way .... to preserve relationships.)
Anyway.

Our plans have changed again.  Finally, a full-time job has been offered to Slice, and it looks promising.  He starts training Monday.  So we'll probably be staying here for a while.

And, despite the stir-craziness, we are really going to miss Slice when he's gone.  Liam and I have been spoiled all this time having him around to play and cook meals and change diapers (and let me take naps).

It's an adjustment I'm willing to make.

Teacher

I started five new students last week.  This brings my current total to eleven.

There aren't enough piano teachers in the Basin, did you know?  And there are hardly any voice teachers.  My mother and I get phone calls almost weekly from mothers looking to start their children.  Crazy.
(I've even heard from a few sources that they made more teaching from their homes than by working full-time jobs.)

Someday I would love to have a music studio in my house, complete with mirrors and a grand piano ... but for now, my mother's setup is working quite nicely.

My piano skills are rusty though, since I went from practicing an hour a day (high school) to an hour a month (college).  The years of choir and school took their toll on my piano abilities; since I started teaching I've been trying to coax them back, little by little.

At first Liam would cry and tug on me the second I sat down.  Now he usually plays in the room for as long as I want to practice.  This is called conditioning.

Anyway.  I am starting to really enjoy teaching, and I think I'm getting better at it.  Voice lessons are a bajillion times harder than piano because there is no set curriculum, no books that we can go through, skill by skill.  The mastery of vocal technique is so complicated that I don't profess to have mastered it - or even come close, really.

But I share what I can, because few people around here are willing and/or able - and hey, the money's a bonus.

the Genealogist

As you all know, I am doing some top-secret research and writing for a book.
(Hopefully it won't be top-secret forever.)

This involves online research, which is almost turning into family history research, which, have I told you about that one Family History class I took?  The 400 level class I signed up for my last semester at BYU, thinking it was something entirely different?
Well.
Turns out, family history is not a piece of cake, especially when you've never done it before and you're in an upper division college class where the teachers expect you to know how to do it right.  Like a professional.
(You guys, there were employees of Ancestry.com and Familysearch.org in my class.  I was in WAY over my head.)
But I digress.

My latest three subjects have been somewhat difficult to find information on.  Sure, there are 50 websites about them, but they all repeat the same little bio, practically verbatim.  I need more.  I finally found a little family website with some genealogies and the same last name, and I emailed the webmaster asking if he had any information on my subject.

So far, he has sent me four emails back.  After telling me he really didn't have anything (he's "just a hobbyist"), he went and looked at censuses, military records, county records, and compiled all the information to send back to me.  The stuff just keeps coming!
I was tickled in the first place that he would even reply - but now he's practically doing my job for me.  I'm a little embarrassed that I didn't think of these things before, what with all my training.  Ha.

Anyway, how awesome is that?

the jobs.

Going on five months of Sugar Momma-ness around here.  That is a post unto itself.

But today I am irritated because apparently, golf professionals are NOT very professional when it comes to business things like "hiring new assistants."  Out of the 20+ resumes we sent out, we got approximately THREE emails of acknowledgement.  Then when Slice called every single place, a healthy majority of them were like, "Oh, that listing is still up? Yeah .... we filled that position last month."
For crying out loud.

I'm thinking that these people post jobs on PGA Links (like they are supposed to) just for show.  Then they hire their best friend's son.

Or maybe that only happens in the Basin?


Point is: we are still in limbo.  An unfortunate position to be in for all planning purposes.
Over and out.

And on the fifth day....

the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth (and hopefully, the headaches) ceased.  The job hunt commenced.

We've sent resumes out to 15 different places so far, from Arizona to Texas to Virginia to China.  I'm an adventurous kind of girl, so I'm getting excited about the prospects of the various places.
(But not too excited, you know, because we all know what happens when I get too excited about anything.)

So.

We should hear back and start interviewing within the next few weeks.
Now if I can just find a cause/cure for the dizzy spells, weight loss and INSANE amount of hair loss I am currently experiencing, we'll be good to go.
After I vacuum and lint-roll my entire household, that is.

Wherein the dregs of my bitter cup are flung into the Internet, and then baked into cupcakes.

Perhaps a decade ago, a dimpled young Slice started hanging around the Roosevelt City golf course.  He picked up balls that were on the driving range, hit them, picked them up again, and took them into the pro shop.  (With permission, of course.)

He's been there ever since.

Nearly three years ago, Slice and I were newly engaged, and we went to visit Slice's boss-friend.  This boss-friend said to me, "Are you sure you're ready to be the wife of a golf pro?"  And I said, honestly, "I really have no clue what I'm getting into. Maybe that's a good thing."

Ha!

Now it's 2011.  But this here is Duchesne County, where "progress" is a bad word, and "nepotism" is pretty much synonymous with "politics," and by the way, the politics at that golf course are worse than any other workplace I have ever seen.  (Even our school district!)

Things have been ugly at times; accusations, proposals, late nights and pride.  Don't think I haven't tried convincing my Slice that perhaps this is not where we want to end up -- you step on the wrong toes, you're outta here -- and now I don't have to say that I told him so.

And as if losing a 10-year job wasn't bad enough, it comes three months after we signed papers on a house.  Four months after I quit my job at the school.  Two months after we decided to "stick it out" until March, when Slice's winter job fell through and I broke my wrist and I didn't think I could handle being at home alone with my 6-month old.

So for two months we've been living on savings and my jobs and other miraculous sources of income, just waiting for March to come.  It's not coming.

Thanks, guys!

If this is Tasting the Sweets of Success...

I have to believe that "losing a job" because of "downsizing" or unfortunate circumstances or whatever is different from being (pardon the expression) intentionally screwed over by the one person who knew exactly what it would mean to you, and had the power to make it a little less painful but didn't.

Not that it really matters.


(There's a difference, right?)

Just to make me appreciate it

Two things.

One: The other night (morning) I woke up around 3:30, and could not get back to sleep.   Toss, turn, curl up, cuddle, turn again, you know the drill.  The baby fussed a little bit at about 4:30, and although he promptly went back to sleep, I nudged Slice.
"Babe.  I'm worried he might be cold."
"Huh?"
"Well, I've been awake for an hour now, and I haven't heard the heater go on once."
"Uhhh..."
Slice climbed out of bed, and came back to report.

(Slice:)"Did you turn the space heater on in his room?"
"No."
"And I made sure to turn it off after I put him in bed....."
"I never turned it on."
"Hmm. Well, it's been on in there all night, so his room is warm.  But the thermostat says 50, so I better go downstairs and check on it."

He left and came back again, having simply flipped the switch on the furnace and flipping it back on.  The heater turned on, I finally fell asleep, and the baby stayed warm all night.  We still have no idea what happened.....

Two:  Since I am me, and if you are me things never go the way you plan them to,
and since money is needed for eating and living and other such things, (LAME)
-also maybe so I gain a new appreciation for working mothers-
I am (you guessed it!) gaining a new appreciation for working mothers.

It's not that awesome, in case you're wondering.

But since Slice is wonderful and NOT ONLY entertains our son for hours every day,
but also cooks, cleans, does laundry, hangs coat racks, and still offers me footrubs at night if I want them,
I can't really complain.
I love that guy.

(Have I mentioned that?)

FTM final

Last week I gave back my keys to the high school, heralding the beginning of my career as a stay-at-home-mom.

I've chronicled the library job enough that I don't think another post is necessary, except maybe to tell you what I won't miss.

I won't miss the appalling lack of respect or the terrible, terrible ignorance of rural teenage life.
I won't miss the weirdies that the Basin produces in droves, teachers who expected me to do their work for them and got irritated when I told them I couldn't.  Or the bullying, whining, the nastiness I had to deal with.

I will miss the books, the Special Ed kids, the excitement of putting new books on the shelves that I knew the kids would love.  I'll miss checking the stats on our circulation and turning them into wordles.
I'll miss proofreading things for the English teachers and administrators, setting up blogs for the Adult Roles classes, creating and rotating seasonal/historical displays.
I'll miss the unexpected things like finding Lyndon B. Johnson's signature inside his biography.
(That one made it into the local paper!)

And, seriously, I'm gonna miss shifting books on the shelves so that they fit just right.  It was my favorite part of inventory - by far.

I'll miss being part of the education system, part of the workforce, making money "out there."

But you know what?  My new job is not half bad.

For the Money $$$$$

More college jobs: Research Assistant, Teaching Assistant

Details:  I got paid to read.
I did research for my favorite favorite history professor, who was looking at Old English Poor Laws.  I didn't do much research on the actual topic but more on historiography of the topic.  (In layman's terms: the history of what historians have said about history.)  I searched the HBLL's shelves and J-Stor, read and compiled a report.  It took months and I'm still not even close to being an expert on the topic.  Yay for history.

I also applied to be an assistant for World Civilizations, 1500-present.  I hadn't taken the class from that professor (thank heavens!), but after getting a positive recommendation I was accepted.  So I held office hours and review sessions, graded quizzes and assignments.  It was tough.

On the very first day the professor said, "You can fill out teacher evaluations at the end of the semester, but I don't really care what you say.  I have tenure so it won't affect me at all."
Huh??!

I got good at: SKIMMING.  Oh heavens.  I skimmed thousands of pages, online and otherwise, for both jobs.  And I STILL have issues with this.  I can hardly sit down to read a book without jumping forward on the page, no matter how hard I try not to.  I ruin all sorts of surprises for myself.  (And miss things, besides.)

Other awesomeness:  I got paid to do what I love best.  You just can't beat that.

For the Money $$$$

I started this series over three months ago, and now that it's official - IT'S OFFICIAL - that I am no longer working at the high school, I thought I'd finish it up quick-style.

Short-Lived college job: Vector Marketing
AKA Cutco Cutlery
AKA "Knife Salesperson"

Details:  I'm still not sure how it happened.
I was looking for a sidejob to help pay for my Vienna Study Abroad, and the ad that said STARTING AT $14/HR just caught my attention, I guess.  I sat through a group interview and received a call that night asking when I could start.  After training in a little basement office in Orem/Provo, I "practiced demonstrations" on everyone I could think of.

Me?  A salesperson?

Well, the only reason I even considered doing it was that I have a true testimony of Cutco.  It's a family thing.  My parents give knives (the world's best!) as Graduation/Mother's Day/Christmas gifts, and I'll tell you what, that cheese knife could be the best thing that's ever happened to you.  I don't know.
(The ice cream scoop is equally good.)

SO....yes.  I demonstrated Cutco products for family, friends, family friends, bishopric members, coworkers, you name it.  The worst part about it all was making phone calls.  Also, customers getting furious about me offering to sharpen their knives.  For free.

I got lost a fair number of times, cut myself even more times, and sold enough stuff to advance a rank or two in the heirarchy.

I got good at: putting myself out there, something that is reeeeeally hard for me.  By the end of my 3-month stint, I figured that if I could do that, I could do just about anything.  Including a full-time mission.

Other awesomeness: At the end of August I went to a nationwide Vector Conference in Chicago.  It was in the coolest hotel I've ever seen, and I roomed with a girl who was heading to BYU two weeks later.  We stayed up all night, flirted with boys, sumo-wrestled and walked through a McDonald's drive-in past midnight.  On the last day, we rode the Subway to downtown Chicago and strolled along the pier.  Then I had to make my way back alone - and I GOT LOST on the subway lines.  In Chicago.
Thank heavens I found my way and made the flight, because I didn't have a cell phone back then.
*Shudder*

For the Money $$$

Perfect College Job: BYU Student Employment

Located in the Wilk right across from the Information Desk. So not only do you become the Information Desk when the Informers are gone, but for years afterward when meeting new people you will hear "You look really familiar."
('Course, I could just have one of those faces.)

Details: I lucked out.
Sometime in late July 2005, I pulled into the driveway and my mom came out to meet me. She was crying. "If you go to work, they want you to start August 1st. That's so soon."
My sister had been working in the office for a while and demonstrated such fabulous work skills that they had to be hereditary.... yeah, she pretty much got me the job. I made a trip down to Provo to interview in person, then started work the next week. It was surreal. My friends were still partying it up in Roosevelt before separating for college/missions; I packed the Explorer with my clothes and a few pieces of furniture, and moved into Angie's house in Provo.

The job was good - and it got better as time went on. I learned quickly, my coworkers were wonderful, and we ate better than I have before or since. (Bookstore fudge, potluck lunches, Taco Bell crunch wraps, Sugar N Spice ice cream sandwiches ..... there are definite advantages to working near the WSC food court.) We posted open jobs, laughing at ones like "Cake Donut Froster" (3-7 am??) and "Model" (for art classes, bikini/speedo required). I conducted I-9 audits and kept everyone up-to-date on my family news. When I went on a $5/week grocery budget, Kathleen brought me fresh fruits and veggies from her garden. I talked about Europe and boys and classes and, eventually, my wedding plans.

We had access to all BYU Students' personal information: age & birthday, address & phone number, marital status, class schedule, wages ... ultimate stalking capabilities. Used for work purposes only, of course.

I worked with all kinds of people. Every new student employee at BYU had to come in and fill out paperwork, which is why my face became familiar ... I think. International students were almost always hard to understand, Dress Code violators were sent back to Nancy's office, and one time a lady yelled at me for detaching her Social Security card. Then she came back and yelled at me AGAIN. That lady was crazy.

I got good at: eating, ePAFs, I-9s, working under pressure, OSTs, eating, remembering names, eating.

Other awesomeness: I learned how to make balloon animals. A semi-pro balloon artist came to teach me how to do it, and I ran a booth at Senior Night for two consecutive years. I "practiced" in the office for days beforehand, demonstrated for everyone for weeks after.
Would you like me to make you a monkey?

For the Money $$

High School: L & L Motor Co., Inc.

Details: After applying and interviewing for a library internship which I did not get (it was a horrible interview), I was hired as an “Accountant Clerk” for a local car dealership/repair shop. It was October of my Junior year.

Thus began the most dramatic two years of my life.

I did whatever the Accountant wanted me to do – data entry, titlework, filing, reorganizing files, picking up/mailing out license plates - while we listened to internet radio in a dusty upstairs office with window air conditioners and stuffed ducks on every surface. He didn’t talk much.

Everyone else did, though. And since I was the only female employee (and, I’m pretty sure, the only one unrelated to the rest) out of twenty or so, they teased me about boys and flowers and my little Hyundai. They also told me to bring cookies, which I did a few times, and almost always got a raise shortly afterward.

Why didn’t I take them more often??

To The Boss I was a particular target. After Junior Prom, my third date with the same boy, he decided to start a “fund” for the first boy who’d have enough guts to kiss me. He called it The Pot … then talked about contributing to it every time I was within earshot.

Word gets around in a small town! Within a few months every boy in town had heard about The Pot, and my kissing chances all but disappeared. I knew it was just a joke, so I rolled my eyes and shook my head anytime someone brought it up with me. This went on for another year.

Shortly before I left L&L - and Roosevelt - for college life, I was talking with Bill about The Pot once again, telling him how ridiculous it had been to drag the lie on for soooo long. He promptly pulled me into his office and moved a mug from part of his desk. Behind the mug was a wad of bills. About $150 worth.

At least I got good at 10-key.

For the Money

School is winding down, so everyone wants to know if I will be back in the fall.

The answer? I don't know.

Crazy things are (always!) happening at the golf course, Slice's job and future prospects are shifting quickly and almost constantly. So our plans could be changing very soon.

The things we do for money...

In the meantime I will be regaling you with stories of my past employment. I may or may not have stolen the idea from Fig, who always has the best ideas. (Good for the stealing.)

Early years: Babysitting
Details: DREADED. I hated hated hated it. I was never one of those girls who cooed over the babies in the ward, asking to hold them at church and during activities; No Thanks. I was frequently left in charge at home, however, and told to track my time so my parents could pay me. (I didn’t, and they didn’t.)

I was SO GLAD when I was old enough that I didn't have to worry about getting those phone calls anymore.

(Not that it has ended entirely.)

I got good at: disliking other people's children. Sorry, it's true. I probably don't dislike yours though.

First Steady Job:Paper Route

Details: Just months after relocating to Roosevelt, my family took on the task of delivering the Salt Lake Tribune and Deseret News to 2/3 of the city. EVERY SINGLE DAY. EVEN CHRISTMAS MORNING. This meant waking up at 5:30 on regular days, 5:00 on Saturdays and Sundays so we could stuff, and working hard to get the papers out by 7:00. (I hate stuffing papers.) We did this for a little over a year.

Mom and I were the only ones who had the route truly memorized -this took weeks- so either she or I had to go. Often we did it together. Someone drove, I sat in the back seat and stuffed/folded/threw papers all around town, and we had good bonding times. Unless the driver was Brent or Angie, who were both so grouchy in the mornings that we completed the route in silence.

I got good at: waking up early, finding my way around this place, learning where people lived and what paper they wanted, where. Also folding, rubber-banding and throwing papers from the back seat of a car in seconds. Most especially, measuring the trajectory of the paper from a moving vehicle based on how big it was, how fast we were going and how far I needed to throw it to get to dry pavement. If my calculations were wrong, we had to stop the car, I had to get out and retrieve/move it. At least a minute's delay (and possibly angry words from Brent).

Other awesomeness: I got a checking account. Citizens all over Roosevelt saw my name about every month. Little old ladies left their checks out on trays with paperweights on them.

looking up

Let's get some of these blog drafts published, shall we? Maybe I'll just combine them all into one?

I've mentioned here before that I've been trying to find ways to get Slice to read - for fun. But all I've had to go on is that he likes Dan Brown and golf. (Go figure.)
(ALSO: HE THINKS LDS HISTORICAL FICTION IS "PRIESTCRAFT." THIS HAS CAUSED NO SMALL ARGUMENT.)

So a couple weeks ago I cataloged a bunch of new books and took three of them home. The first I read in an afternoon, the second is gonna take me a while to get through, the third I thought Slice might actually like. I asked him if I could read it aloud while we drove to Provo.
And ... BINGO!
I have created a monster. Since I couldn't help much with the priming/painting in the bedroom last week, I read to the husband while he worked. And if I ever stopped for more than ten seconds he said "Keep going! Keep reading!!" Like a slave driver. Sheesh.
(Chuckle chuckle.)
He wants me to read all hours of the day and night, even when I am so exhausted I can't keep my eyes open. Finally I refuse and go to bed, and he stays up and reads ahead of me. The book is strange, I'll tell you that; I've never read anything like it. But I am on to something here.


So yeah, the painting is done and most of the furniture is moved back in. But we don't have baseboards yet and I'm still trying to decide just how I want it configured. I've spent hours online looking at drapes and bedskirts and sheets and lamp shades, without buying any of course, because I have to see everything before I will buy anything. That's just how I shop. Doesn't that make you love me.
(I'll post some pictures later.)


Last Saturday Slice and I went to a wedding reception -BH style!- and then to Prom to take students' tickets. Weird for four reasons:

1. WAY WAY WAYYY too much skin. Not even pretty skin. Look, you shouldn't really be that immodest in the first place, but especially if you can't pull it off. Please be considerate of my gag reflexes.
   
2. Chocolate fountains and all the stuff to go IN chocolate fountains - but no toothpicks. Just finger foods in runny, drippy milk chocolate. Who thought that was a good idea? For Prom?
3. I am very pregnant and have developed elephantine feet. This is a shame because a) I have beautiful feet normally and b) now I don't fit into any of my shoes, even sandals and c) I wanted to dance! It was a dance! But Slice said no.
4. I am very pregnant (also married) and five years ago I was AT THIS SAME PROM in this same building, and boy did I think I would be back now?
   

The answer is no.


Today is Library Snapshot Day, and once upon a time I was surprised by how many kids came into this place, considering how I never ever came here except to make copies for band. And maybe you still think I'm exaggerating about how CRAZY the LMC is before school and during lunch, but look! I have stats! I've been keeping them all day.
Between the time I opened the doors and the time the bell rang to start school (7:55-8:20), about 140 kids came in. During lunch we had 120.
You probably don't care but I do, because I like statistics and I want to be a demographer someday. Demography. Yummy.


Oh hey, did you know that two incomes means more money than one? AWESOME. Spring/summer means we are out of the great money-sucking pit of winter (that traveling to Japan caused) in the Slice of Jean household ....
... for two more months, that is.

Well, this is neat

Next week we will be hosting a "Wordle Week" here in the LMC. I have spent many days preparing.

(Don't you wish your job was that fun!)

If you've been reading here long enough, you may recall that I check our top titles semi-obsessively. I even figured out how to manipulate them so I know what books have been checked out the most over the last one, three, five years, etc. So ... of course I had to Wordle them. Combining library stats with Wordles is, like, eating raspberries and Crème brûlée.
Delicious.

Top 50 checkouts since 2005- Fiction

Top 50 checkouts since 2005 - Non-fiction

(I played with those a little because Manga books took up the whole list)

And....since we've been talking about names here....

First names of UHS Freshmen

Not as bad as the Elementary School kids, for sure!

This program was brought to you by http://www.wordle.net.
Stay tuned for more Wordles.
Maybe.

For Leia

Now, I know that names are a completely personal thing. You may love something that I think is totally absurd. That's just how it goes.

But can't we come to some kind of collective understanding? That some names are just unacceptable? Like, for example, the high school kid named Dam'n (pronounced Damon). Funny, parents, very funny.

Here are a few of the names I saw last week, categorized as well as I could categorize them ... meaning, many of them fit in more than one category. See for yourself.

Attack of the Ys:

Jadynn

Randyn

Sharyse

Aydrianna

Bryne

Rylan

Caydon

Shaylei

Grayci

Kamryn

Bryony

Jerysa

Kaylum

Taiya
Coyt

Names I think I know, but spelled so wrong I'm not sure:

Macee

Makayela

Jocilyn

Landyn

Kelci

Kenadie

Lexxee

Myka

Ostyn

Haven't heard/seen this before, were your parents going for "unique"?

Castin

Questen

Drevan

Quade

Treven

Cashten

Raiden

Galven

Serenaty

Meradee

Haygen

Genika

Jerret

Jate

I have no clue what this is and I'm afraid to read it out loud*:

Koufax

Beanden

Leighan

Aaralyn

Neva

Taelarose

Cyler

Kieran

Jaevan

Kiya

Zhaylil

Rahannon

Jaly

Delci

Ela Dion

Nevaeh

Amonnie

Denile

Cragun

Nika

* I tried to keep the ethnic names off this list

I did not make any of these up.

Discuss.