So, Crazy Lanea is not my legal name.

I know, I know, you feel deceived, gentle reader. And for that I apologize.

Lanea is a name I picked when I started to get really involved in Living History (Crazy was appended when I started clothing everyone in my living history group), because there simply were no people named "Amy" 2000 years ago in Wales or Ireland. Nor were there Amys 1400 years ago in Wales or Ireland. I love the name Lanea because it works for both Iron-Age Celtic and Viking living history. I love its connection to Botany. I love its softness, the roundness of its vowels; it’s relation to the name Lana, which means peaceful or lovely. I love that, in Swedish, it means lime-tree. I mean, why not name your girls after lime trees, right? And, I even appreciate the fact that, when necessary, the fellahs can say "lah-NAAAAY-ah" in such a way that it both embarrasses and compliments me. And I love that, when I needed her most in my youth, the Muse spoke through my mouth, saying "My name is Lanea, and if you say it sideways, it’s No-Lay-a, old man. I’m 15. Go away."

But this, this is too good to be true. Scroll down . . . way down . . . see it there . . .
[LANEUS, LANEA, LANEUM] : ADJ woolen;

I know there was something good that Rome did, and the good thing it did was make my name an adjective meaning "woolen." Not that it makes up for the attack on Ynys Mon or the slaughter of the Iceni. But it is a step towards detente. When you add this to the fact that placenta literally translated means "pudding", you see why Latin has staying power. Sure sure, it’s no Old Irish. There is no Latin epic that matches the grandeur and hilarity of Scela Mucce Mac Datho, in which our hero wins the right to the Warrior’s portion (i.e. best steak + badass bragging rights) by pointing out how many of his rivals’ dads’ testicles he has removed with his pointy stick. But this is a start. This might temper my desire to smash busts of long dead ceasars.

Ok, probably not. But I applaud the bookish sweetie who posted this bit of loveliness on the web. And, I am so happy to say that if you google "Lanea" today, this blog is the third thing on the list. And if you google "Crazy Lanea", it’s the first.

Perhaps I am so happy because tonight is a Lunasa and Dervish show at the Birchmere. Several of us will be there, and we’ll try not to complain about the overpriced burgers and beer, because, crap, Lunasa and Dervish are playing at the Birchmere tonight and we have tickets. I will not cringe if Cathy gets down with her bad self on stage, because her voice is lovely. I will not kick people who lean in front of me, blocking my view. I will not cry much if Lunasa decides not to play The Merry Sisters of Fate and Morning Nightcap and Meitheamh and Floating Crowbar and and and. I will try to try to not be an Irish music snob. Ok, I won’t try very hard.

My life is pretty darn good. I hope yours is too.

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