When I lived in the Salt Lake City area I joined a wonderful rug hooking group. Absolutely delightful ladies that taught me so much. We met at the home of Jennifer Figgins who was my mentor in the field of making rugs.
One day the ladies wanted to come up with a name for our group. They all voted on "Wasatch Rug Hookers".
My problem was, even though it is the correct term to use the word "hooker" for a person who makes hooked rugs, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
I'm kinda sensitive in that way.
I suggested "How about the Wasatch Hug Rookers?"
Everyone scrunched up their noses and said "Naaaahhhhh..."
Eventually I just had to get used to the term.
(This rug is called "Memorial Day" designed by Barbara Evans Brown)
It took some time, but eventually I could even tease my students as I taught rug hooking classes and tell them they were all now "Official Hookers". Me too.
And to make matters worse, the cutting implement that we use to make the 1/4th inch wide wool strips is called... you guessed it... "A Stripper".
So not only had I become a hooker, but I'd become a hooker with a stripper.
One time I went to a rug hooking camp in another state. I called Mr. Cactus to see how he was getting along. He asked what I was doing.
I like to tease Mr. Cactus so I said "Actually I am hooking in the lobby of the hotel, and I have my stripper on the table."
He's never let me live that one down.
In fact, the next day was Sunday and Mr. Cactus went alone to church because I was out of town. In one meeting that contains all men, a few noticed I wasn't at church and asked if I was home sick.
Mr. Cactus casually replied, "No... she's at a hotel hooking."
No other explanation.
Guess what I got to face when I went back to church the next Sunday? And the Sunday after that... and the Sunday after that......