That's Not My Name

Spending time with family is like swimming with sharks. They'll take a few bites at you, just to taste. If you fight back they'll let you be, but if not... your lunch.

As fall came in 2010 Mark and I started going to the football games, and in my family that means attending the after party at Aunt Pam's. The football fiesta at Aunt Pam's is a very exclusive party so the first time that I brought Mark along he got asked the same two questions over and over by every person that walked in the door. The dialog went like this:

Family Member: "Hey, what's your name"
Mark "I'm Mark"
Family Member: "Nice to meet you Mat, did you go on a mission?"
Mark: "yes to Argentina"
Family Member "Did you get sent home? Was it cause of morality problems? Just couldn't hack it could you? Well that's a shame Mitt, but nice to meet you"

They were all joking of course and Mark handled it very well. In fact that's one of the reasons I married him. I couldn't be bringing a wimp to the after party. By the end of the night Mark had been called everything from Moses and Mickey to Marcutio and had been sent home from his mission for smoking, kissing, and punching the Mission President in the face.  The tradition still continues (although I think they're starting to run out of names) and any time there is a football game you can bet that Mark will answer to any name starting with an M except Mark.