Some of you may be wondering why I chose to name this blog as I did, rather than use the more common slang "Rhody." Even just a few days into my tenure as a Rhode Islander, I've already been assaulted by this construction. Rhody Fresh milk, a product of Little Rhody Foods (good eggs too). Ask Rhody. Edible Rhody. It goes on. The Rhode Show (gag).
I decided not to go that well-worn (and possibly infringey) route, but instead to create a derivative of my own. In the cycling world, a "roadie" is one of those dudes on fancy ten-speeds in tighty-tight lycra. I am not exactly one of those fellows, although I do dabble. So: not quite Rhody, not quite Roadie; Rhoady.
I briefly considered going all medieval on y'all and calling it "Lil' Roodty" after 17th-century Dutch explorer Adriaen Block's name for the place, Roodt Eylandt. Some of you eagle-eyed readers may have already noticed another connection with Mr. Block. As in Island. And therein lies yet another tale...
Later: I buy an espresso machine and jack myself to high heaven!
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