I remember the first time I had to say that name out loud.
I was in my 6th grade literature class near the front row. Somehow I could always sense when my time had come and my name, the most familiar words in my vocabulary next to
sit up straight and
don't drag your feet, slipped from between the teacher's lips to light my face on fire.
If I had a nickel for every time I was told that my face and hair were the same color...
Penelope.
Odysseus' wife.
I pronounced it: pen uh lope
This child wasn't left behind. Nope. I was embarrassed into learning, humiliated into remembering, laughed into an obsession with avoiding mispronouncing oddly spelled words in public.
I had trouble with
chaos for a while there, too. I last remember struggling with it in Big Lots. An off brand, over-stocked, discounted beverage can was the perfect teaching aid.
I also happen to be infatuated with this Penelope.
She stars in Volver. An Almodovar film set in the region where I lived in Spain. Known for its stinky cheese and Don Quixote, Penelope sums up my inexplicable love for the region despite the pig feet and oily eggs: El viento manchego trae la locura.
