Mini license plates that you hang on your bike seat, key chains, mugs, pencils, tote bags, bottle openers—any personalized item in a gift store—will have variations of my name: Dinah, Dianna, Dana…. but never my name. I’ll look, hoping. But no.
So, I get excited whenever I see my name. Anywhere. Even as part of a typo.
Thank you, IKEA!
Which, of course I had to buy.
It’s finally about to flower. I’m very excited. (Polar bear hat and camel bone in a box, if you’re wondering.)
Excited, like when I was walking around Alserkal Ave in Dubai (or Dubayy)’s Al Quoz area (home to art galleries; work spaces; warehouses; industrial plants; an antique museum that has few antiques and isn’t a museum; car repair & modification garages), saw my name on a discarded cardboard box, and took a picture. Woo hoo! That’s me: Performance without Sacrifice.
Update on Siri’s struggle with my name:
She has started spelling it right, but has stopped saying my name at all.
Half a win!