I typed a quick message in a small European internet cafe, clickity, clickity click. It was just an update to a friend, telling her where we were and what we were doing. Just as I tapped the “send” key, I saw my mistake—my name was misspelled. What?! I have used my name for nearly 60 years without any spelling errors, but there went my email message, off to someone else. I felt embarrassed and wanted to erase my error from cyberspace. But no. The deed was done. I shook my head as I left, prepared to confess my mistake and accept the chiding by Em and our friends who were waiting for me.

“I just misspelled my own name,” I announced.

“How did you do that?!” Apparently all three of them had read the same script and their line was perfectly synchronized.

“I don’t know. I just typed and somehow it happened. My name from now on is Cherzl.”

“Oh!” laughed Gary. “I know exactly what happened. In the place of a normal American keyboard where you find the y, instead there is a z.”

“What? Only that letter is different?”

“Well, for sure that one is. Let’s go Cherzl.”

“Very funny. But before we leave, I need to stop at the pharmacy. I’m all out of face lotion. I know exactly what I want, so it will only take a minute.”

A quick scan of the face lotions took me by surprise. There on the shelf, staring me right in the eye, was a lovely little bottle of “Oil of Olaz.”

“What!? Not Oil of Olay, but Olaz!”

Posted on August 7, 2010

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