It’s almost as comfortable to me now as my own name, and I find that fascinating. I stumbled upon on it quite by accident.
I’ve been asked many times these last six years why I have that name, and have brushed it off with a knowing wink, “I have teenaged daughters…” Sponsors and advertisers have contacted me often to offer me some writing gigs, but some respectfully decline after thinking about my name.
It’s difficult to explain something in passing that is a part of my heart.
I started writing seriously after a traumatic family event, and it saved my life. It filled a piece of my heart that I never knew was missing, and continued to heal other parts of it. It was a miracle drug that I stumbled upon in the middle of the night- and I rejoice in it every single day.
I started the blog not long after enjoying some success writing for the local paper. (I took a leap of faith not long after the event, remembering how short life was. The editor snatched me up...) A good friend then took me by the hand, looked me in the eye and convinced me that my writing was worthy enough to be shared with even more people. I was incredibly flattered, as her own writing was so exquisite.
When you start a blog and open a gmail account, you have to come up with a name, and email address. If you’ve ever done this, you know that there are millions of people out there and MOST of the logical or simple names are taken. I typed in a ton of names, but all were taken.
I thought for a while about what name I wanted, and it didn’t take me long to think of her. I always think of my mother at strange times, and this was one of them. I had lost her too long ago, and thought of her often. She was full of humor, laughter, warmth, talent, flaws and generosity. She also loved a great martini.
She and my father would entertain often, and always, always had cocktail hour at 5 o'clock.
I thought of her when I typed in the name vodkamom. And there it was - AVAILABLE!
That is the real story.
I’m not vodkamom because I swill vodka every day (cough), sell vodka, make vodka or smuggle vodka. It’s a passing, loving wave to my mother, who I miss like hell but who I know it sitting in heaven each morning on her computer checking her feed.
This one’s for you mom; this one’s really for you.