While I don't usually bother to write them, I often tell stories with no point. Here is one.

My birthday rolled around again last weekend. (That sort of makes it sound like it comes around frequently. It doesn't.) Few people on this planet know of the near tragedy surrounding my original birthday. I almost didn't arrive. I mean, I arrived, but *I* in the sense you know me, nearly didn't.

My mom wanted to name me Judith.

I am not a Judith. Or a Judy. Maybe, maybe, I could be a Judie, but that's still a stretch. Seriously now, Judy Hurdle? It's horrible. I'm certain I would never have considered a career in radio for surely I would have hated saying my name aloud. Too, a career as a writer would have been out because readers would have assumed I was old. And nerdy.

What might my life look like, supposing a different moniker? A name wouldn't change much, I suppose. Regardless, after all, I'm still old and nerdy. But Judith means "praised" or "admired," and it's ancient Hebrew. That'd be just great--pride and legalism are two of my bigger spiritual struggles as is without being admired by others or thinking I'm one of God's chosen people. And would the other kids have made fun of me even more? Maybe instead of "Terri Turtle," I would have been "Moody Girdle."

I'm glad I was graced with Ceridwen instead. Although, I grew up under false pretenses with that name.

First, we don't pronounce it correctly. Once a man from London, seated next to me on a plane, said my full name and I think I was speechless for a full moment. Kerridwyn. The English pronounce it beautifully.

Second, and perhaps the more humorous (or humourous, if you will) of the pretenses is the meaning. Through a bizarre misunderstanding with a woman who is long since dead, precluding any possibility of ever straightening the story, my mother came to believe Ceridwen is the Welsh version of Catherine.

Welsh it is. Catherine it is not.

It means "goddess of poetry." Furthermore, the name is sometimes associated with neo-pagans today. Now, if there is anything on par with the evility of Ouija boards and seances in my mother's mind, it would be paganism.

Had she known, I'm pretty sure I'd be Judith.