I don’t get it!

You know about checking to see which of your posts are the most popular? It’s kind of like googling your own name, I think: everybody does it, but few people admit to it.

Well, I do it and I admit to it. And just for the record, apparently I do not exist in Google-land, only in the Blogosphere and in my own imagination. And it seems that my most popular post is the one I wrote about PG’s new pet name for me, Donkey.

I have no idea why this is. I have no idea why so many people google donkeys in the first place. I also have no idea how that particular post on my blog comes up when people do google donkeys. I’ve tried it. My blog did not come up. There were over 100 pages of donkey references, but my blog did not come up. So I am truly mystified.

DD finds this incredibly amusing. This whole donkey thing tickles her fancy so much that on our recent trip to Greece, she bought me this small stuffed donkey in Santorini. She MADE me choose one – and threatened that she would choose one for me herself if I didn’t.

The Santorini donkeys are actually quite famous, so she also fell all over herself with glee when we came upon these two fellows in the village of Pyrgos. I consider myself fortunate that she didn’t make me sit on one for the photo.

PG also thinks this donkey business is hilarious. He figures that he is now a major trendsetter. Calling me Donkey has given him his fifteen minutes of fame. He will not let me forget this. He also met us at the airport with this sign:

And I have now given search engines another of my blog posts to connect with searches incorporating donkeys. You’re welcome.

Terms of endearment

Porsche Guy has come up with a doozy of a pet name for me. It’s – um – rather unusual. I’ve certainly never heard of this particular word as a pet name before. PG is quite proud of that.

It came up one day when we were having a more-intense-than-usual discussion. I don’t even remember what it was about. But he wasn’t listening to my intelligent, well-thought-out, SANE point of view. So I kept interrupting him to remind him that he was wrong and I was, obviously, right.

PG eventually fell silent. So did I. Then he said, in an exasperated tone, “Donkey!”

“Donkey? What exactly do you mean by that?” I sputtered.

“You’re like a donkey!” he returned sharply.

“How am I a donkey?” I questioned. I was thinking that he thought I was either slow-witted or an ass. Neither prospect was enticing, I must say.

“Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word,” PG mused. “What I meant was that you’re stubborn. So maybe mule is a better word.”

That’s when I started to laugh. “So instead of mule, you call me a donkey?”

“Yeah, but I said it with lilt in my voice. It’s a pet name!” he said defensively.

“Donkey is NOT a pet name! Nobody gets called donkey affectionately!”

“Sure they do. There’s Donkey in Shrek …”

I laughed more. “That’s his NAME because he IS a donkey! It’s not a pet name!”

PG was laughing as much as me by this point. “But it could be. You like donkeys, they’re cute – why wouldn’t you want to be called Donkey?”

“Because it’s not a real pet name!”

“It is now. Donkey.”

Hee haw.