My granddaughter is named Zara. I was quite comfortable with the decision to name her after a Spanish clothing store, though my preference would have been for one like "El Reino de las Corbatas," in much the same way that I had suggested "El Museo de Jamon" for the nephew, who was eventually named Jaime instead. But stunningly, the parents proved stubborn on the subject. This younger generation. They truly are annoying.
No matter. The point is this: thanks to my eagle eye, now they know how to spell their daughter's name in Arabic.
Friday, July 23, 2010
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