Motor Scooter

My husband can't get enough of Rovegate. He's started calling it the "Karl and Scooter Show." It's apparent that--aside from the very real political implications of this whole mess--that Jim is fascinated by the idea of a grown man calling himself Scooter.

As a child, I had a friend, Rachelle, whose nickname was also Scooter. Her sister Melissa was known as Gus. Scooter and Gus, Gus and Scooter. By the time they hit their teens, they wisely asked everyone around them to PLEASE call them by their given names, Rachelle and Melissa. The nicknames disappeared.

Not so with our boy I. Lewis Libby, apparently. Scooter he is, and Scooter he shall always be.

(You just know, by the way, that one day he'll write a memoir, and of course, he'll call it I, Lewis Libby.)