Case in point.
*First let me preface, we are not preggers. This was just a random, it's slow, let's talk about everything under the sun kind of day.
M: Have you and your husband thought of baby names?
Me: Yes, but the hubby doesn't like me telling people because he thinks they'll steal them.
M: What are they?
Me: Ok, fine. Girl, I like Rhiannon, but the hubby does not.
M: Where did you come up with that name? I like it.
Me: It was a Fleetwood Mac song.
M: Who is Fleetwood Mac?
Me: You know, Stevie Nicks.
M: Never heard of him.
I realized that day that I want my future children to grow up with an appreciation of all things 70s, 80s, and 90s. Ok, not all things. But here are some of the tops that they must know/love/own.
The Brat Pack
Moral of the story? I'm old. And I still wish I had held on to my jelly shoes!