I like my name. And I like that nobody has ever called me Kris or Kristy or any other shortened version of my name. For as long as I can remember, I've corrected people on the spelling of my name.
But I don't care. It's my name.
Maybe that's why I'm particular about spelling people's names right. Working as a reporter gave me plenty of opportunities to screw up people's names, in print. But I always made the extra effort not to.
I remember being a little girl and looking at personalized pencils, magnets and cups. Usually, they didn't sell K-R-I-S-T-I-N. Sometimes stores carried K-R-I-S-T-E-N and usually C-H-R-I-S-T-I-N-A. But those aren't my names.
Mom would get excited, and snatch up, any personalized goody she found for me.
Now I'm 29, and I still notice. Usually now I look for my name, then Cate's name. K-A-T-E is a much more popular spelling of that name. But since C-A-T-E is short for C-A-T-H-E-R-I-N-E, my daughter has hope.
On Friday, a friend told me K-R-I-S-T-I-N was the "Name of the Day" at Backyard Burger. So, even though it was served personalized, I got a free burger, thanks to my name being K-R-I-S-T-I-N. The burger is long gone, but I do have this picture to remember the occasion.