In 21 days I have back surgery.  BACK to surgery,  ha ha ha   I'm trying not to think to much about the actual surgery part; the whole anesthesia - puking - feeling groggy and stupid for days - incision pain and stitches and laying in a hospital bed and having no privacy and no dignity and all that stuff.  Trying to just let that go; it will be what it is and it's just something to get through.  My actual worry is that this surgery doesn't fix me. I've lived with this stupid back problem for eight or twenty years (depending on which particular problem you are referring to) with the thought in my head that if it ever gets too bad, I'll suffer through surgery again but "not until I have to".  Well, I'm there, and I have to.  But what if it doesn't fix everything?  then I'm just stuck in this hell with no light at the end of the tunnel.

This is a little like spending your last dollar on a lottery ticket.

wow I don't know whatI just did, but my screen disappeared into this tiny tiny little column.  I couldn't read this crap with a telescope!!!


Oh, apparently something like cntl+o is zoom, and I zoomed down to 10%.  ha ha ha  that was an entertaining few seconds.

Anyway, yeah; spending my last dollar on a lottery ticket.  21 days.

Vacation dreams

So many places to go, so many things to see, and so hard to find time and money...but we bought a new camper and have all kinds of ideas and intentions to take trips and see things and be places....

So I need to put some of the ideas together so we can make a plan.  right?

First trip after the camper gets here is for my birthday and we're going to Cloudcroft.  That's going to be awesome.  I've never been there, and I'm excited.  We can also go through Alamogordo and see the space museum and stuff, so lots of fun there.

But then, later...I want to go to Salado Texas.  There is the Stagecoach Inn there.  it is the oldest continually operating hotel in Texas.  To make that just a little bit cooler, the hotel was originally built by Thomas Jefferson Eubanks, who is my 4th great grandfather.  (Paulk line)  So I really want to see that.

And also, there's this house in Denison Texas; it is a Historic Museum because Dwight D Eisenhower was born there.  And I like Ike.  But also, that house was originally built by someone in my family.  I can't remember who right now, and I apparently don't have it notated on ancestry.com.  I know it's in my scrapbook, but my scrapbook is all the way over there on the shelf.  So far.  I mean, sure I can see it from here, and sure it's probably like an actual ten steps away, but I'm sitting down and I'm pretty comfy, so I'll figure out who built the house later.  But I want to go there.  (to Denison, not the bookshelf)

And to Flower Mound, Texas, where another ancestor started the Methodist Church.  And to Sulphur Springs where people who are my family did everything.  Everything!  Created the county, built the first buildings, shot the buffalo.  I need to see it all.  Maybe I could find out something about that mysterious great-grandmother of mine.

And then maybe someday we could get really adventurous and go to Louisiana (where my family built churches) and Tennessee (where my family built churches) and Massachusetts (where my family accused the neighbors of being witches).  And there is also Cory's family history strung all across the country too. 

And I want to follow Route 66, and go to all kinds of old forts and see every antique store in the world.  Well, maybe not every one in the world....but maybe 62% of the ones in 27% of the United States within a 836 minute drive of my house.  Or something. Some antique stores/junk stores. 

And Wyoming where the deers are, and Uncle Joe.  We have to go there for sure. 

Cory says we need to get a journal to keep in the camper to keep track of our travels.  isn't that a cool idea?  I love it!!!  gonna do it.

gotta go now.  Bye.

the story of a girl and her quilt

So my son's girlfriend messaged me on facebook one day and told me that there was this quilt she found in a catalog, and she'd been thinking about buying it for a while.  She showed the picture to two of my sons, and they both said "don't buy that!!  Mom can make that for you!"

That is SO sweet, that they brag about me that way, and I love that the girlfriend would prefer to have one handmade by me....and of course I said I would make it for her.

But it's a complicated pattern, and speaking of patterns, I don't have one.  So I have a picture to look at, and a brain to use.  I can do that.  I made a spreadsheet, cause you know, that's what I do.  So I determined the size of the finished quilt, counted the number of blocks across the quilt, made up a measurement for the borders, put a formula in the spreadsheet to see what size the blocks needed to be....and it might fit the bed when I'm finished.  Of course, there is also the small chance that the quilt will be of a size to slipcover New Jersey, but I don't think so.  *worries a little*

So I'm thinking I will keep up with my progress here.  I'm always thinking, after I finish a blanket, that I should have taken pictures of all the steps, but I never do.  So this time, I'm going to do that.  Not tonight, tonight I'm just going to write about taking pictures of the fabric that I will cut and sew and turn into a quilt...but I will take pictures and keep up with my progress, and possibly share this whole story with my kids and girlfriends when I am finished.

And just to state the facts clearly, as I did to Cory at the fabric cutting table at Hobby Lobby, "yes I know I'm insane.  I don't care." I BELIEVE I can do it.  I think. :)

That's all

My sciatic nerve is not my friend.

That is all.

Saving the post office

Yes, yes I am going to save the post office from bankruptcy…apparently.  It’s all because my daughter fell in love with a British guy.  He better be glad that I like him, cause otherwise I would make his life miserable for taking my daughter to England.

Now, in all honesty, I have to say that I am thrilled that she is getting the opportunity to live in England and travel and see things that I always wanted to see.  I’m also glad that I will probably get to go to England and visit; that will be awesome if it happens.  But in the meantime, I may go broke trying to mail things.  J

I mailed a package last week, she had a Christmas gift shipped here and I needed to forward it, so that was seventy something bucks.  Then today, I send her ‘momma loves you’ package.

 

I have been informed that there are no good pickles in England.  They make all of the pickles sweet.  Well, some people don’t like sweet pickles…some people like hot pickles and sour pickles.  Like my daughter. So I bought some pickles on line to mail her ( and I look back at my past self with an indulgent smile...poor little naïve fool).  And also, she hasn’t been able to find good cheese.  She says they have cheese, but it’s like CHEDDAR…on STEROIDS…that’s been stored in a SOCK.

And even though my son-in-law was in the background making various loud noises,  shocked faces, and hand gestures that all communicated (very clearly) that he thinks European cheese is superior in every way to American cheese, the fact is my  baby girl wants some American cheese.  And some hot pickles. And she wouldn’t really mind having some good tea.  Oh, that one almost caused a stroke; he has such attitude about tea. rofl

My favorite son-in-law story of all time follows:

We are in a restaurant having dinner.  My tea tasted a little old, but I wasn’t sure if it was the tea or if it was me.  So I say “Taste this.  Does this taste funny?” 

He says “All of your tea tastes funny.  I’ve tried so many kinds of tea, but none of them taste right.  I don’t know what lipton is, but they put it in all of the tea, and it just doesn’t taste good!”

I look, in shock, at my daughter, who shrugs (with an evil smile) and says “I just didn’t have the heart to tell him”.

So I struggled to maintain my composure and not bust out laughing, failed miserably, and said ‘’Honey, Lipton isn’t an ingredient, it’s the brand name.”

He says “oh.  Well, it doesn’t taste good”.  Ha ha ha  Good times.

 So, being the loving mother that I am, I got a box and filled it up with American cheese, and string cheese, and hot pickles, and tea bags.  And then I spent $70.00 mailing it.

$70.00 ……… for PICKLES!!

And that wasn’t even all the pickles I bought!  It was just the ones I could fit in the medium size box.  If I had mailed the whole box of pickles, it would have cost $99 and some change to mail it.  So that’s $43.00 for two cases of pickles, and let’s just call it $100 to mail them…*mumbles to self while staring at the ceiling*…43 and 100 is 143 divided by 48 is (mumble mumble)…pretty damn close to $3.00 per pickle.  And you know, some cheese and a couple of tea bags.  Unbelievable!

But that’s what love will do to you. 

Step two in my plan to save the post office:

Bring back writing letters.  Do your part!!!  Maybe send some “it’s not Christmas” cards.  Think how much fun it would be if everyone did it, and you started getting mail that was fun!!  You go to the mailbox, and there’s an envelope that isn’t a bill, or a piece of trash…it’s a note or a card from someone you love!  It will make you smile, and it help save the post office.  I’m pretty sure Ben Franklin would come visit you in your dreams if you helped me save the post office! And hey, maybe someday you’ll get a box full of pickles.  :/

 

 

 

Ancestry requires math

Here's the problem with genealogy: exponential growth.  Both directions.  You don't understand?  Would you like me to explain?  I'll do the easy part first.

So say you want to trace my family, although I don't know why YOU would want to trace MY family.  You should trace your own family.  But whatever; here is the problem.

So my mom and dad got married 55 years ago and then proceeded to have six children.  So you start the family tree with mom and dad, you add the kids and there are eight people.

Well, five of the kids got married (four of them more than once) and proceeded to have eighteen children.  So now you have twenty-six people.  Now the eighteen grandchildren are beginning to have children. So far, eight of them have had twelve children.  Well, honestly, seven of them have had eleven children, but give it another couple of months and there will be a new baby, so let's just call it twelve.

So in fifty-five years, the "family" has grown from mom and dad - to mom and dad and children and grand-children and great-grand-children, and those two people made a family of thirty-eight people.

That's manageable, right?  Sure it is. (until you try to get them all in a room together!) But I told you I was going to start with the easy part. 

Check this out.

You have two parents, right?  and each of them have two parents, so you have four grandparents.  And each of them has two parents, so you have eight great-grandparents.  I'm sure you see where I'm going with this.  If you go back very far, it starts to be a lot of people.  A lot of people.  A lot.  And if you try to keep up with aunts and uncles and cousins, it gets totally out of control.

So say you want to go back five generations, your great-great-great-great grandparents. You have thirty-two of those.  You really want to trace the family history?  You're lucky enough that there are records available to the early 17th century when they all came to America?  (That's when most of my family got here - the rest of them were already here.)  So call that ten generations, that is what it is for the branch of the family I just glanced at.  So the Sabin dude that moved here in 1620, he's my tenth great-grandfather.   If you were able to trace every single ancestor back ten generations, there would be 2,048 of them!  I might be related to every person that came to America in the 17th century...how many people actually came over here that long ago?

Want to be fancy and say you're descended from Charlemagne?  Help yourself.  You probably are; you and about a bajillion other people.  Also, you're descended from Charlemagne and the other 467 million ancestors of that generation.  Okay, I didn't really do the math because ... well...I don't want to.  But if you tried to go back that many generations, you would either be descended from the entire population of Europe, or there were some cousins doing things that cousins shouldn't do.

Okay, I just looked it up and if you go back 30 generations it is going to be over a billion people, but there weren't a billion people on earth, and there wasn't a lot of inter-continental travel going on, either. But there was a lot of uncle/niece, cousin/cousin marrying and baby making.

So anyway, that's one of the issues that is somewhat troubling.  And the main reason that I don't want to try and write it all down on pedigree charts.  Phooey on that.  Websites all the way!!  :)

Also, people on ancestry.com will just write down stupid things.  Like going all the way back to before the time when surnames were commonly used, and there's a guy (in Wales)  named James ap Owain, which means James, son of Owain.  Right?  But then whoever is writing this down doesn't know the name of the mother, so they write down "Mrs. James ap Owain".  Well, I don't really think that's accurate.  Just write down 'unknown'.  Honestly, at that time wives weren't referred to as "Mrs. Husband's last name" because husband didn't have a last name.  So don't make stuff up.

Norse history?  If your name was Eric Thorsson, it meant you were Thor's son.  And your wife was named Hildegard Sigurdsdattar because her father was Sigurd. And your kid will be whatever you name him Ericsson.

So the good news is you know who everybody's father was.  You don't know who anybody's mother was, but I can assure you there are no actual records anywhere that say the mother of Hildegard was Mrs Sigurdsdattar.  People annoy me sometimes. 

And....I'm kind of done talking about that.  Bye.

My son

I was just talking to my oldest son on the phone, and I'm a little bit teary-eyed.  He's falling in love, although I'm not sure he realizes it. I think I'm seeing the beginning of a pathway that is going to lead to me not being the most important woman in his life.  That's a good thing; I want him to have love and a family and all that...but I don't know this woman yet, so I'm a little apprehensive.  Jake is no fool, and he's not a child. He knows what he wants in life and he isn't afraid to tell people to go away and he isn't afraid to walk away, so probably it's okay.  But it makes me sad and proud to see what a wonderful young man he has grown up to be, and to see him taking his first steps on this new journey and knowing what a trip it is going to be.


And trust my child to test me.  He's falling for a woman who is five years older than him, a woman who is divorced, a woman who has two children.  Every motherly instinct in my body wants to tell him to run and find someone who hasn't already had a bad experience with love...but I can't do that.

I once WAS a woman who was divorced with two young children, and it didn't make me a bad bet.  I fought against a lot of prejudice from men and mothers who thought I must be looking for a daddy for my kids, that I must be looking for someone to support me financially, that I must be desperate to latch onto any man that would stand still, but that was never the case.

From what I understand, this young woman is "such a good mom, just like you are.  She takes such good care of her kids and she doesn't NEED anybody to help her."  I can only hope that is true.

Bottom line is this:  I don't care what road she's been down or what block she's been around.  I care if she loves my son and treats him right and if she wants to join him in the life that he has chosen.  I hope he doesn't fall in love and give up his ideals or give in at the first sign of trouble.   It's hard enough to be married, it's even harder to raise children.  It's incredibly hard to start out marriage with children and deal with the other parents and all that goes along with that.

But who knows.  He isn't one to get in a hurry.  I may look back at this two years from now and laugh.  But I heard words and emotions from him tonight that I've never heard in 26 years, and I think he's taken a few steps in that direction.  We shall see. 

At least he isn't going to move to England, like my daughter!!!!!  Which is a whole different story.  We'll get to that someday.