The name on my Starbucks latte today read "Lou."
I find this very exciting. Usually it says "Yuna," which sounds like a bowel-stimulating yogurt.
Also, our next-door neighbor in Texas used to call me "Una Lou." She was young, with long hair and what I remember to be perpetually bare feet. I never had a real nickname, so I relished it.
A little bit country, a little bit rock and roll, the name of a tomboy who stashes her tumbling curls inside a jaunty cap.
I think I'll be Lou today.
The only question is, which Lou? Lou Gehrig? Lou Diamond Phillips? Lou Ferrigno? Lou Rawls?
The possibilities are endless.