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Whose Ancestor is THAT?

10 Aug

As I’ve mentioned before, The Squire has been deeply involved with his family tree, tracing parts of it back as far as the 800s. Obviously, there are other people out there also looking for the same ancestors, and it is possible to search for a name and gets hints about folks who might be related to you.

You have to be careful. The amount of misinformation is appalling – children born three years after their mother died, couples married before one of them was born, and such. People just copy what another researcher had written down, without even checking to see if it is accurate.

What has really surprised both of us are the portraits people put up to represent their forbearers.  The Squire has been working on this long enough that he now recognizes when a picture is out of place. My knowledge of historical dress helps track down correct time period, and sometimes even the picture involved.  One was the famous Portrait of a Young Lady, done by Botticelli, which was about 100 years out of whack. Another was a portrait from the time of Henrietta Maria (after whom the state of Maryland is NOT named) used to depict a woman born in 1700. Henrietta Maria died in 1669! The absolute worst was a lady from the time of Henry VIII, represented by a painting – by John Singer Sargent! If people are going to ‘snag” portraits, they really ought to check the clothing styles, and the dates.

If you are going to the trouble to trace your family history, don’t throw the entire tree into question by using obviously fake stuff. People will question everything you have out there.

And that’s the truth!

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Here We Go Again!

8 Aug

I have written before about the fact that The Squire sets the a/c at “Arctic” while I prefer it a tad warmer. The unit in our bedroom has an actual thermostat, which I set at 70 at night, and then back up to 75 during the day, when nobody is in there.

Last night, I popped into the TV room to say good night, and just about turned into an icicle standing in the doorway. The Squire was watching TV, bare chested, with a blanket over his legs, which hurt when they get cold. (Do you see something odd in this picture?) I went back downstairs and got him a small heating pad, and while I was at it, grabbed a room thermometer, which I laid on the bed in the guest room.

When I got up this morning, it registered a cozy 65!

It went down to 62 last night, and left to my own devices, I’d have opened the windows and turned on the fan.  Heating the house with the air conditioner just doesn’t make sense, folks. However, some people feel this brings too much humidity into the room, and it’s not worth the trouble.

But don’t come singing to me when the utility bill arrives!

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A Bit Unclear on the Concept

4 Aug

unconditional

These folks need a good dictionary.

 

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Visitors

2 Aug

Last week we had a visit at church from a long ago former member, and today we had a visit from fairly recent former member, who has returned – more or less- to the area.

Mary and her family moved to Texas in 1977, and she comes up about every other year with her daughter, son-in-law, and who knows how many nieces and nephews, all of whom are good solid church members.  It made me a little jealous, as only one of our girls goes to church, and none of the grandkids. I worry about all of them. One of our grandsons is in Air Force, and I’m just glad he’s out of harm’s way, and not a pilot.

Today’s visitor was a young man – about our daughter’s age – who moved to Florida with his parents when he was in his twenties. He pops back from time to time, but now has a job in Annapolis, which is, as he said, an hour and $4 each way, so he’ll probably only be coming once a month. Still he’s back home, and has said he’s willing to be a reader when he’s here. And we can always use the help.

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Aaannd, We’re Off!

1 Aug

Yesterday, Sweet Girl finally mastered the difficult art of walking, and if she’s anything like her mother and grandmother, we are off to the races. This video was taken at the apartment in Ocean City. Last week she was content to sit in the sand; this week she wants to get into the water.

Ahem. Is determined to get into the water.

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Something We Don’t Know?

30 Jul

The Squire has been doing a lot of genealogy work recently, and finding out all sorts of unusual bits.  He has some very interesting ancestors!

One thing he has known for years is that he is descended from the only male survivor of what is known as “the Sodom Laurel Massacre”. Sodom Laurel (No, he doesn’t know why they named it that.) was a hamlet in North Carolina. During the Civil War, a group of Confederate soldiers came through (reports vary as to whether they were Mosby’s men or McKeithley’s), rounded up every male in town and shot them, on the off chance there might be a Yankee sympathizer in the group. The Squire’s ancestor was William Bell Shelton, a then eight-year old boy who was gathering eggs, and had the good sense to climb into the hayloft and stay put. Just to see if the place still existed, he put it into Google Earth. The map spun around, and landed in Washington, D.C. At the Capitol Building.

We have since discovered that the Post Office renamed the place “Revere”.

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The Church Dog

29 Jul

When I go to knitting on Monday evenings and Wednesday mornings, I almost always take Blazer along. He has a mad crush on Miss Kathy, the secretary, who always gives him treats, and acts as Official Greeter for another group that meets on Wednesday mornings, sitting by the door and waiting for a pat on the head.

He also goes with me when I am on Altar Guild, and knows he can follow me anyplace but up onto the altar steps. He stops and flops down on the carpet, once even resting his chin on the step, and waits for me to get things done, then trots back to the sacristy while I finish up. Ah, if only he had opposable thumbs!

The last couple of times I’ve gotten ready to leave, he’s come out the door, and then flopped on the grass, refusing to move. This morning, I had to go back in for something, and he leapt to his feet, dashing back inside with me, but wouldn’t leave the front lawn. I finally had to get his leash out of the car to get him to follow me.

Mind you, this is a dog who  won’t eat until we say grace, so it’s hardly surprising. The Squire says we should just get him a white collar and rename him Deacon.

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Happy Birthday!

22 Jul

I was supposed to spend most of today at the radiologist, but they called and rescheduled for Monday, so Blazer and I went over to join the knitting group at church this morning. When I tell him we are “going to see Miss Kathy” (the secretary) he gets all “talky”, which he only does for her, and nobody else.

He hops in the car, turns sideways so I can fasten the seatbelt around him, and when we arrive he bolts for the office, sitting in front of Kathy until he gets a treat, then grabs his stuffed bear off the shelf and comes out to join the rest of us. An Al-Anon meeting is scheduled at the same time, and he gets a pat on the head from each person as they come in. This morning he followed one lady across the room because she had walked by without patting him. He takes his Official Greeter duties quite seriously.

When it is time to go, he gets Bear and returns it to the office, dropping it at Kathy’s feet and getting one more treat. A very rotten, but very sweet puppy.

Back in June, The Squire received a very generous gift card to a local High Class restaurant, so we decided today would be a very good time to use it, to celebrate my umpty-dumpth birthday. We had invited our closest friends and my brother-in-law to join us, but only George was able to make it.  We had a very pleasant time, exchanging dreadful jokes, and enjoying wonderful – if insanely overpriced – food.

Dinner was filling enough,  and dessert would have been nice, but they wanted $9 for a dish of ice cream, and $8 for bread pudding, so we passed on that. Stopped at Yogi Palace on the way home for frozen yogurt and were just as happy as if we’d paid twice as much.

Off to feed the fish and the foxes, and then, as Samuel Pepys would say, so to bed.

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Twitchy

18 Jul

If you have ever visited our home, it’s hard to believe I am OCD about anything. (Except for me, it would CDO, in proper alphabetical order. The girls claim it’s a wonder I didn’t name them alphabetically.)

However, it drives me nuts when the hymnals and prayer books are not lined up properly in the pew racks. The taller hymnals in the center, and the shorter Book of Common Prayer on either side, nicely snugged together. Viewed from the door of the church, it gives the impression that we take pride in the way things look, and most people in the congregation are really good about making sure their books are in place when they leave. If not, the ushers will tidy up after services, pushing books together and collecting stray bulletins.  One of our former rectors once said that his idea of Hell for me would be to have a rack of books, just beyond my reach – and he’s probably right.

Friday, we went to a memorial service for our youngest daughter’s mother-in-law.

That parish uses two different hymnals, so there were three books in the rack, all just shoved in higgledy-piggelty.  The moment we walked into the sanctuary, The Squire grabbed my elbow, and whispered fiercely, “Don’t touch the books!”

I did straighten out the ones in front of us, but for the most part, I sat there and twitched during the entire service.

It’s a dire fate to have a fetish, let me tell you!

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Gopher Wood!

14 Jul
If you follow my blog, you know it’s been raining here, just about non-stop. Last night (earlier this morning, actually) I was vaguely aware that it was raining, but not enough to really get through to me. About 4 AM we were awakened by a tremendous clap of thunder. The Voice of God, as it happened.  Practically lifted us out of bed. Going on the old premise of “I’m awake; I might as well go pee”, I staggered downstairs. The toilet was making gurgling noises, which is generally my job, and the water level was rising a bit with each gurgle. Cute.
I flipped on the light over the backyard, and the water was crossing the patio.
I ran upstairs, woke The Squire and told him we were flooding, found a dress to throw on, and went out to move the cars to the top of the hill. By the time he got downstairs, I was outside, barefoot, had already gotten one vehicle out of harm’s way, and working on the second. He got the trash cans and other “floatables” up on the picnic table, and then we just watched and prayed. Fortunately, this new kitchen door and storm door are much tighter than the old one, so while we had a small trickle in the kitchen, it wasn’t anything like what we had five or six years ago. There was water under the bathroom floor, which will probably smell divine for the next week, but we’ll manage.
Somehow, in the middle of all this, I thought to call and cancel a doctor’s appointment I had for 11:00 today. The Squire is piling scatter rugs against doors, and I’m on the phone! I did call them at 10:30 this morning to see if they had gotten the message I’d left on the machine – they had not – but the receptionist said they would not charge me for missing today and rescheduled for next week.
As quickly as it came up, the water went back down. The Squire went back to bed, but I stayed up a bit to see if we were going to have any more trouble. So far, so good. I stumbled into bed at 5:30 and crawled out at 9:30. Still not fully functional, but I seldom am.
Right after the last bad storm, The Squire called Department of Natural Resources, and two people came out to look over the property. We gave them a video he had made, and some pictures showing how much land we’ve lost, and they said they would be back. The fellow remarked that a stream this small shouldn’t get this bad this fast, but it obviously does – and worse each time. They (a man and a woman) are supposed to come back and walk upstream to see how far it goes and what other branches flow into it. The Squire could never do that and I wouldn’t tackle it alone. He called when the offices opened this morning to report this damage, and ask about sand bags.  Each successive storm is worse than the last.
And it’s supposed to rain again tonight and tomorrow.
We just can’t keep going this way.

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