Good morning, World:
This morning, as I lay in bed rubbing littleb’s back in hopes that he would go back to sleep instead of chanting, “I want cake, I want cake, I want cake, I want cake”….
I know. Annoying, right? Apparently he had a dream about cake.
Wow. That may be my worst digression yet. I just left that sentence hanging there. I’ll never be a decent writer if I keep doing butt guts like that.
Can I start again? Okay. This morning as I lay in bed I ran various “H” words through my head trying to attach them to some kind of tangible memory or thought in my brain. At one point, I thought I was just going to go with “Hello” and call it a day. But. I’ve already made enough of a mockery of this game with my whole Cluck it, Fuck it, let’s just do the entire alphabet in one day shenanigans. So I felt a little more effort was required.
And then the word Hannah popped into my head and ding ding ding, we had a winner.
My father is a beautiful human being. He is a great father and through the years, he has done so many of the parenting things right. He did, however, commit one heinous faux pas and ungrateful child that I am, I’m going to call him on it right here in the Chicken pages.
He nicknamed his daughters. After cows.
I have a very unusual first name, to begin with, that I’ve had to shorten to something more straightforward in order to avoid repeated mispronunciations and stupid questions/statements like, “Is that Asian? Sounds Asian”. No, Asshole. Look at me. I have blue eyes, blondish hair, and skin like a vampire. I do not look remotely Asian. Sometimes I would just make up a story: Yes, it is Asian. How astute of you to notice that. Most people don’t realize since I don’t look remotely Asian, but I was adopted at birth by a Cambodian couple and named after my adopted papa’s mother, now deceased, but former personal assistant to the wife of the former prime minister of Cambodia. I am honored to carry her name.
My father is to blame for my Asian name, too.
I’m procrastinating possibly because I really do not want you to know this. The nickname bestowed upon me by my father and the one I have been known by ever since in his company is Clarabelle. Yup. This is what I think of when I hear the name Clarabelle:
Why on earth would a father do that to a daughter? Dad? ‘Splain this to me? I know you grew up on a farm and all, but babies are not cows. One does not stick a baby with an Asian/Cow name? What the hell were you thinking Dad????
My Sister, J, also had a cow nickname, but hers, which was “Hannah”, was not nearly as offensive as mine. I mean, Hannah is pretty mainstream. It’s really a lovely name and I’ve only met a few cows named Hannah over the years. Plus, I’m quite sure Hannah was an infinitely more attractive cow than Clarabelle. Here’s what I think of when I picture Hannah the cow:
Incidentally, my sister also got the lovely American first name, as well. Dad, were you playing favorites? She’s younger than me. She was probably a total accident. But she gets a better name? Bad form, Dad. Not fair.
Dad was possibly not thinking of Cows at all. As I recall, Howdy Doody had a partner and the partner’s name was:
Clarabelle. The Clown. Really, Dad? You looked down into the big blue eyes of your tiny infant daughter and you saw a bald clown? Perhaps a bald, Asian cow clown? It is pretty apparent to me, now that I’ve worked this through, that my father is totally to blame for my weird sense of humor. Let that be a lesson, Peeps. Nickname your kid after a Clown and she just might grow up to be a clown. A weird bald Asian cow clown.
Know what, though, World? My sister J of the beautiful American name and beautiful Cow nickname, will most likely forevermore be associated with this:
Revenge is mine. Thanks Disney.
Check in later to read about today’s “I” word. It is another embarrassing story from my childhood. Some of you already know this story but for those of you who do not, I think you might enjoy another hearty laugh at Chicken’s expense.
Today’s Chicken song (click on the Chicken crossing the Road) is a Martin Sexton song called “Happy”. Another H word. JE, I came across this song a few years ago when I was looking for a wedding gift for you and B. It reminded me of how the two of you might be feeling. But then I didn’t see you for a long time and I kept it. So I hope you both still feel this way and if you like it, I totally owe you a CD:-)
Saturday Rocks. Enjoy it.