I promised…

At the end of the last post I said that I would tell the story of our nicknames. Mango and June.

First up, June.

When Michelle left the Arctic Circle and moved down to beautiful sunny central Florida she decided to take a short sabbatical before starting work again. That’s when I met her. I couldn’t resist a little jab at her life of leisure. I simply mentioned that since she wasn’t working she could meet me at the front door in the evenings when I got home from work with my pipe and slippers wearing high heels and pearls (a La June Cleaver). Her response was something like ‘Not a chance mister’. Actually, the reply was a bit spicier than that. So of course from then on it had to be June.

Now Mango

June’s mom every so often has afternoons out with some of her friends and they call the group the ‘Church Ladies’.  So right as June and I are first dating, June’s mom tells this group about me. Problem was that she couldn’t remember my last name so she said something along the lines of, “Russ, the guy who grows mangoes” (The back yard at 2780 had a couple of rather large Mango trees and I had given her a few of them). Now I’m Mango.

So there it is, Mango & June.

When you come by the Beach House (snobbery there), we have two large carved tikis right by the front door. They also are June & Mango. We got them from the guy who carves them right outside the bar area at Squid Lips restaurant. They sort of add that special tropical touch that we like.