Day 2: Meaning behind your blog name

Day 2: Meaning behind your blog name.

My name is Ruth. For as long as I can remember, I've been the only Ruth in my peer group. When I was in kindergarten, I wanted so badly to be named something a little more hip; specifically either Jennifer (which I for some reason connected to the color pink) or Stephanie (which I connected with the color purple). The only Ruths I knew were the elderly ladies at the Senior Citizen Center in town that had a wicked cool doll house in the display window. My friends had great names like BreAnn, Adonia, Ashley, and Emily. I was named after a readable book of the Bible (four short chapters). I would have preferribly been named after any member of the Baby-sitters Club except for the one named after my mom, which I was always confused about.

My brothers started running cross country at the next college town over, and there was a girl named Ruth on the team. Who was this Ruth? She was quiet, blond, and calm. She had a teammate named Penny. Wow, a pretty, tall, athletic girl named Ruth! I though. Look at that! Maybe it is a couple steps up from Esther (or Gladys, Mildred, or Henrietta). Today there are three Ruth's in my life: a Ruthie who works with me, a Ruth who works with me (we like to greet each other loudly and frequently), and Ruth, a friend of a friend that I recently went on a bicycle bakery tour with (she is pretty awesome and also likes baking as much as I do).

BUT. I named this blog Truth of Ruth because when I was a kid, I had a serious problem with lying to my mother. WHO DID THIS? was easily answered by NOT ME, which really meant YOU CAN'T PROVE IT WAS ME. One time after getting caught in a lie/denial, my mother looked and me and said (in some way) "Your name may be Ruth, but you are far from the truth."

I laughed at her.

And then she laughed a little, and said, "No! I'm serious. You are are not a truthful person." When she walked away, and the shaming worked. It worked! I'm not saying I didn't continue my mischievous scheming as my frontal lobe continued to develop through the nice ripe age of 19, but at a certain point I realized that my parents deserved the truth, and I deserved to tell it.

So there. I hate lying, but I've learned to really like my name, and here's what you'll find at thetruthofruth.blogspot.com