Thursday, July 14, 2011


I was born Katherine Elizabeth Adams, but I've never been called that. Directly out of the womb, I was nicknamed Katie. My grandfather, who doesn't ever call anyone by their real names, called me Katy-did. I'm okay with that. A bug is better than Smokey (my aunt, who told tall tales and "blew smoke out her ass"), Windy (my mom, who couldn't shut up), or Tiger (my grandma, and I don't want to know the story behind that). When I was in seventh grade, I changed my name to Kate because I thought it sounded sophisticated and mature. *insert eye-roll here* Also in seventh grade, my English teacher named me "Ominous Succession." I'm still trying to figure that one out, but I don't think she liked me very well.

Nowadays, friends call me KB, Katebakes, Kates, KahtBahker. My co-worker Judy insists on calling me Katherine Elizabeth, which I kinda like. I'm Mom to my kids, Miss Kate to their friends, and Grandpa's started calling me Sweet Voice because I always sound so happy when I call him. (That's because I am happy. I love him, and I'm grateful he's still around.)

I love that I have all these names, that I'm not just one specifically defined person. Each name is a part of me and tells a story of who I am to the people in my life. I appreciate that they don't all see me the same way.

Listening to: the ping of tweetdeck and the hum of my computer

xo. kb.

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