I was named for my Great-Grandmother, about whom I only know three things. 1.) She ate all of the kiwi, skin and all. 2.) She told my parents that if they named me after her, she’d die the minute I was born, and 3.) She did. Luckily, she was in the hospital for my birth, already.

That is the reason why they had my Baby shower and her funeral at the same time. That way, they didn’t have to make potato salad twice in one week.

So, whenever people ask where I got my name, I tell them the story. Not necessarily the true story, just the one that’ll shut them up for a while.