What’s In A Name?

So you know how I alluded to not having the best of weeks a while back?  (And if not, just humor me.)

Well . . . I’m not going to be talking about that.

But AFTER that series of unfortunate events that I’m not talking about right now, I needed to vent to someone outside the situation, so I called Mom.


Now my mother is a wonderful and caring person, but I just happened to call her at a time that she was particularly . . . frazzled (She was driving to an important appointment AND she was running late AND she only had like three minutes before she arrived.).  Despite all this, she tells me to go ahead, and since I need to vent, I figure I can hit the highlights in three minutes or less.

BUT . . . about a minute into my rant she gets a call from the person she’s supposed to be meeting, obviously inquiring why my Mom is late.  So Mom tells me she REALLY needs to take the call and explain the situation, and that she needs to go.  Which is hardly desirable news to me, but fine . . . except for one thing.

She didn’t say “Robert . . . I’m sorry, I need to go.”  She didn’t say “Robert” at all, in fact.  (Those of you with siblings and/or multiple children may be able to guess what happened.) 

She called me by the WRONG NAME! (My brother’s.)

So here’s a candle for my Mom . . . a BIG candle . . . with the name ROBERT carved into it.  (1)

You know . . . my NAME . . . the one YOU gave me, Mom.




I’ll bet Christina wouldn’t forget my name . . .  (2)


(1)  For the record, I DID get permission from Mom to tell this story when we laughed about this about a week after the incident.

(2) Last Christina Ricci joke . . . I promise.  (3)

(3) Promise only applicable for the duration of this current week, no further promise should be taken as stated OR implied.

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