AND NOW FOR THE REST OF THE STORY

Ha! Wasn't that what Paul Harvey would famously say as he would put his unique twist on a story? My unique twist goes something like this...

So you read about my middle name debacle. No big deal, right? It could be worse. They could have named me after my paternal grandmother, Asenath Hedeen. How's that for a name? My maternal grandmother was Marjorie Avis. A little better, but I guess in the grand scheme of things Karen isn't too bad. I'll keep it even though every Karen I know seems to belong to a very special group of damaged individuals. We rock! If we ever rise up and unite, you better watch out! And now the name Karen has a huge stigma attached to it. We're all are depicted as obnoxious, angry, entitled, and often racist white women who uses our privilege to get our way.  Another suggestion is that it comes from a 2005 bit by Dane Cook called “The Friend Nobody Likes.”

Fast forward 25 or so years: I've always heard paybacks are hell and revenge is always sweeter when served cold, so how much colder can it be to name my dog after my mother. Oh yes I did! What makes it a beautiful thing is that I was an adult and she couldn't torture me. Hooray! lol My mother hates her middle name. You see, her mother (my sweet, sweet Nana) stuck her with her mother's first name as a middle name. God, I love it! She just about cringes whenever she has to give her middle name to anyone. Personally, I don't think it's that bad, but who am I to judge middle names? Remember I don't have one!

When my daughter was just a little girl we got a lovely German Shepherd and we named her Montie.  I think my mother's hair actually used to stand on end whenever I would go to visit and when it came time to call for Montie to come inside from the fenced-in backyard. I'd take great pleasure hollering out that glorious name. Say it loud and say it proud! Mother, are you listening?

Come on, M-O-N-T-I-E. It's time to go home. Montie's such a good girl. Here's a treat from Grandma.

 

Meet Queen Ovaltine

When my mother was pregnant with me she did something quite stupid.  She let my brothers pick out my name.  Since my brothers didn't want any stinking baby girls in their house, they only picked out one name for their new baby brother.  The consensus was that the newest member to their band of brothers would take HIS rightful place amongst them with the name of Jimmy.  When I arrived that Labor Day many moons ago, much to their surprise and major disappointment, I was that stinking baby girl they didn't want!  This created quite the dilemma of coming up with a name to put on my birth certificate. No, "Shithead" wasn't in the book of baby names that year or else I'm sure that would have been my name. 

Why my mother didn't have my brothers pick out two names (just in case) really baffles me. Why she didn't encourage them to be more receptive to the possibility of having a sister is ludicrous. Why she didn't just name me Jimmy anyways or maybe something close to Jimmy like Jamie to ease the sting my brothers felt has always puzzled me.  It was almost like they were set up to resent me right from the start. My mother even bought into the whole idea of me being a boy by not having a secret back-up name picked out for me if I was a girl.  WTF?  Welcome to the family, you stinking baby girl with no name! You little unwelcome shithead!

When my mother started having children, she claimed if she ever had the little girl she claimed she wanted so much she would name her Debbie.  Is my name Debbie? NO!  The reason I wasn't given that name is because my aunt had a girl a year or so before I arrived and named her Debbie.  Since the RULEBOOK clearly states that there can only be one Debbie per family, it was back to the drawing board when it came time to name me.  I guess that RULEBOOK didn't include chapters covering things like choosing a back-up name or selecting a middle name either.  I hope those chapters are included now so little shitheads like me aren't stuck with lame names (Moon Unit comes to mind) and no middle names.

Where my mother came up with the name Karen has always been a mystery to me. She doesn't even know. Was it one of the "hot" females names that year? Nope! Was it a family name? Nope! Was I named after a family friend? Nope! I guess they just tossed some names in a hat and picked one and forgot to pick a second one for a middle name. I guess picking the name Karen was such a grueling task that no one could come up with or even suggest a possible middle name to go with it.  I can almost picture how the whole thing happened. Throughout my life I have gone through the list of female names many times and have found a handful of names that would have fit nicely with Karen.  Each time I find one that "fits," it makes that old nagging feeling of being unimportant rear its ugly head and makes me wonder why my own family couldn't have picked a sweet little name for their new bundle of joy new little shithead. 

One of the many reasons I grew up feeling like a such a freak was due to my lack of having a middle name.  I guess it may seem trivial to most people, but most people have a middle name.  Most people are designed to fit in right from the get go and were not given an instant conversation piece.  Whenever asked what my middle name is, I always get that "Yeah, right!" look when I tell people I don't have one.  Most people immediately think I'm lying to cover up the fact that I got stuck with some horrendous name like Gertrude or Bertha (my apologies to all the Gertrude's and Bertha's in the world, but your name sucks in my humble opinion).  Maybe I'm just jealous because I don't have a middle name. When left to my own devices (which is a dangerous thing to do), I gave myself my own unique middle name.  My story of having a mother who craved Ovaltine while she was pregnant with me is a much nicer one to tell people than describing how braindead my family can be at times.  So there you have it...I named myself.  Bing! Bang! Boom!

Now to add insult to injury, I always thought it sucked being born on September 5th. The year I was born (the wheel still hadn't been invented), September 5th fell on Labor Day (the first Monday of September). The main reason I felt as I did about my birthday was because many times my birthday fell on the first day of school.  For a child, that seemed like a fate worse than death. After becoming a parent, the first day of school seemed like a blessing! During those years when my birthday fell on the first day of school, I always felt like my birthday was the secondary event of the day almost like an afterthought.  I guess that was due to all the chaos the first day of school brings to any household.  My parents had 4 children to get ready for school and send on our way out the door and into the caring tutelage of our new brain bruisers, the teachers.

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
-AUTHOR UNKNOWN-

LAST BORN TRAITS:
Risk takers
Idealists
Good sense of humor
Hard working
Attention seeking
Secretive
Sensitive

MISCELLANEOUS FACTS:
Famous last born children: Howard Stern, Jay Leno, Ralph Nadar, Bill Gates and Danny DeVito
Tend to go against the norm
Make the biggest stirs in life
Know no boundaries

QUEEN OVALTINE aka MILDRED RATCHED/RED KITTEN FACTS:
My youngest son was born on Labor Day also and the doctor who delivered him was born on Labor Day. We were all 25 years apart.

My great grandfather and I shared the same birthday and I grew up to share the same profession. My grandmother died on my 9th birthday.

Recently I looked up what famous people were also born on my birthday or I on theirs:
Freddie Mercury, Jack Daniel, Jesse James and Raquel Welsh. 

MEN ARE FROM MARS WOMEN ARE FROM VENUS

Recently a big, burly, beer-drinkin' redneck dude was talking to me about having a just a lil fight with his lil lady. When I asked him to define "lil fight" he gave me a blank look like I was an idiot for not knowing what he meant. God, I love it when a man does that! I said, "Okay let me help you help me understand. I want you to select what happened from one of the following:

a. a "disagreement" is a verbal confrontation in which the involved parties usually come to some sort of compromise or settlement.

b. an "argument" is a heated verbal assault in which the involved parties usually have to cool down before a resolution can be made.

c. a "fight" is a physical confrontation usually initiated by harsh words in which no compromise, resolution or settlement is made. "

He said, "damn girl, I didn't realize those 3 things meant 3 different things, but I reckon it was the first one. It was just a lil fight."  

I laughed and went on to ask him if he also says his wife "bitches" all the time.  I tried to educate him about selecting the proper use of words, but I didn't make much head way.  I do think he at least thought about what I had to say even though he really didn't understand a word I said because I'm just some old damn Yankee transplant livin' on the Redneck Riviera! Yehaw! Let's get 'er done! 

 

Being from Maine is like being from another planet. I've actually been asked if we have indoor plumbing in Maine. Ayuh! Ever since about 1980! We have to wait until the ground thaws out before we can dig to lay any pipe. Gotta love Maine sarcasm...God, I miss it! Now, I have Martha livin' next door to me I get a dose of it just about every day.

Smile!

Ha! I looked at this picture and it almost made me want to vomit. [lol] Did women really used to smile cheerfully while they ironed? Did the dishes? Mopped the floors? I must admit that the mundane things in life sometimes irk me so much especially when I could think of dozens of other things I'd rather be doing.  I consider housework mundane and bordering on cruel and unusual punishment, but who am I to make such a judgment? 

My dogs dog dislikes detests housework also. I had to correct that statement because I have a Shih Tzu who does not like any type of house work. My other three dogs are just fine. But The Queen believes that life is to be spent in my lap only. Perhaps I was a Shih Tzu in a former life and thus explains why mundane things irks me so... Perhaps I belong on someone's lap being pampered!!!

THE HUMAN RACE

Sometimes the whole human race puzzles me.  For example: Why haven't we treated our planet kinder? Why haven't we treated each other kinder?  In the grand scheme of things, I see no need for war, for poverty, for hunger, for homelessness...Call me an idealist. Call me stupid. I don't care because it irks me to see people including myself be less than they should be and can be with a little time and effort.

MIXED FEELINGS

Check out the mullet!

Last night my daughter, Christina sent me a text message telling me that my ex-husband, Jim wasn't doing well and probably wouldn't live much longer. Her ex step-brother, Josh had texted her to let her know the news and asked her to pass along the information to me with a copy of a short note I had written him years earlier back in the early 1990's. I wasn't too surprised about the news about Jim because he has never taken care of his health even when he was younger.  Of course, I have mixed feelings about the news and will deal with those feelings over time. Ho! Ho! Ho! 'Tis the season...

I have to admit that I was more surprised that Josh had kept that note than I was about the news about his father. When I read the note, I did so with a "red pen" in hand looking for errors. Of course, I found a few. Go figure!  What stuck out most to me was the part I wrote about God. You see, I am NOT a believer, but Josh is so I must have written that part for his benefit. Mildred has a heart after all! Shhhh! Let that be our little secret because I have a reputation to uphold. What brought a smile to my face were the personal touches that only he and I would know what they meant.  I have to admit the note brought a tear or two to my rather dry eyes.

I vaguely remember writing the note, but the circumstances aren't crystal clear. Old age is a bitch! Obviously, it must have been one of the times when Jim and I parted ways. Josh had finished high school and had started college.  I do feel proud of him because he went on to finish college and he became a doctor. His brother, Jason is also a doctor and his sister, Jamie works in the medical field as well.  I never had a close relationship with Jason and Jamie because they lived in another state with their mother and we only saw them periodically. Josh lived with us. And for the record...Josh was a handful and then some! I always thought he just needed someone to believe in him no matter what and I always tried to be that person.

When he finished college, he came and found me to let me know he had graduated and had been accepted into medical school and would be starting soon. The rest is history...

It's been a long time since I've heard from him and I know the circumstances suck, but I'm glad to know I still am in his thoughts occasionally.