When I was a kid, there were not many little girls named Nancy (and, in fact, there are even less today). Every girl at school was named Jennifer, Meghan, Emily, Sara or some version of Alissa. I did not like my name. I clung to the precious few Nancys who were available to me, most notably my homegirl Nancy Drew. And then there was this comic strip, that for reasons due most likely to sheer inertia, was still appearing the in the funny pages of the Providence Journal in the 1980s. I tried to make it work with Nancy, pretending to enjoy her adventures with Sluggo, but, obviously, this just sucked. Not funny. However, every once and a while a strip would come along that struck a little closer to home and would make me suspect that me and the polka-dotted girl were indeed kin.