My dear Joon...

[shireling]

I just saw that my DNA results are in...

Okay. I'm going to open them now. And it says

46% - Belgium, France, Germany, Netherlands, Switzerland, Luxembourg, Liechtenstein - whoa!
39% - Poland, Slovakia, Czech Republic, Austria, Russia, Hungary, Slovenia, Romania, Serbia, Ukraine,
Belarus, Moldova, Lithuania, Latvia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia - yep, there's gotta be gypsies in there!
6% - Italy, Greece
4% - England, Scotland, Wales *fist pump*
3% - Ashkenazi Jewry - WOW!
___
98% it's never 100. Even paternity tests aren't.

But I am just gob-smacked! It's not what I expected. I figured on Eastern Europe as the major provider, but not Western. And a smidgen of Ashkenazi besides! It's only 3% but to find any at all, that is really special! I am just blown away.



sara

[shireling]

The pipes didn't break. I'm so glad I was wrong about that. Everything just melted and the washer is back online, thank God.

We've had our January thaw. It was in the 50s on Thursday, and our kitchen and household stuffs are nicely stocked. I'm searching for another meal I can make quickly, and today we're having kielbasi and German potato salad. We go out to eat twice a week - Tuesdays are Chop Suey, Fridays Steak 'n Shake - so with the three veggie pastas, and the mushroom & clam chowder, I needed just one more.

To call them veggie is an injustice to the pastas. They're zucchini or spinach, combined with lentils - I'm not standing at the sink, turning out ribbons to cook. They're high in protein and very filling. I'm pairing each one with a vegetable side; Italian green beans w/ rottini marinara, cauliflower w/ rottini Alfredo , and broccoli w/ mac 'n cheese penne. The trouble is my freezer is so small. I just don't room for another dinner, well, I would if the Honey would give up his blueberry waffles. But that's just not happening, and besides, it's not fair. The man eats oatmeal six days a week and this is his one true enjoyment. He has them with fruit yogurt instead of butter and syrup, and I think that's what helps to keep his blood sugar so well.

Food for us is like adoption; it takes two yeses. If he doesn't like it, I'll look for something else. The great thing about the potato salad and sausage though, is that I can keep one in the pantry and the other in the meat bin. I was hoping to find a ravioli that I could store in the fridge that was filled with squash, but those are also frozen. I worry about cutting myself so I'm not getting raw produce anymore; the last time I made perogis, I sliced into a finger and that was the end of that. So, I'm keeping my unwounded fingers crossed that he's okay with this.

Last week, I saw an Independent Lenses documentary by Jennifer Brea. She has Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and she made this in order to keep track of her own illness and that of others around the world. As of her film, there are 1 million cases in the US, 17 million worldwide. In Denmark, people are being stolen from their families and placed in psychiatric hospitals, by the government (!) simply because the doctors don't believe this isn't psychosomatic. It's an autoimmune disease, like diabetes, so instead of neurologists - whom I've been seeing - it should be an endocrinologist. But because of the diabetes, they won't see me, and the neurologists - all four of them - have been saying this is all in my head - sounds familiar. It was weird to watch these folks go hammer and tongs through their day, only to collapse moments later. It might not seem like the same, but there is so much that is similar.

Years ago, I was just like that. Going on and on, and then not being able to stay awake. I fell asleep in classes, and at work - all of which I'd forgotten, it'd been so long ago. I'd feel exhausted, I'd have trouble speaking - which is what Colette complained to me about, saying that my speech was "unhelpful". I can't remember the exact word she used but it is in that ballpark. I'm wondering if the tremor and balance issues are residuals from that. I only saw a tremor once in the film; a very young woman was helped to sit on the side of her bed. Her dad stayed by her side, and as he laid her back down, she shook. I mean, really shook, hard. It was the only tremor I saw in the whole 90 minutes. And as for noise, I also have trouble with that - though in my case, it increases my tremors; drumming, which is so popular now, makes me want to scream. It's virtually impossible to avoid it, and in the eyes of some, it's been taken as racist to excuse myself whenever the instruments are brought out. It's painful, but how do I explain it when most of the world won't believe it.

So, I figure, this could very well be what I've got. And since I'm not getting the care that I need from the specialists who should be seeing me and won't, I'm self-diagnosing and I'm going with this.

Right now, I'm managing. I'm taking care of me and our home, my honey and our kitty, and of Girlfriend, without whom nothing would be physically possible. I have a cane and a rollator, and people who will help in a pinch. By the time I'm ready for Medicare, I'll be able to get my propers. But, until then...

The roads are very bad. Lots of accidents, power outages, so we're staying inside, hopeful that things improve for Michael's visit tomorrow. The TV's on behind me and that's all I hear - terrible slide-offs, trucks overturning, and head-ons . We had spring temperatures yesterday, and now we're back at zero. We missed his last one due to the cold, but if it's bad, we're all better off if we don't see him.

Take care, my joons. Be safe.



sara

[shireling]

My Aunt Frances died this past Thursday.

She was my mom's oldest sister, who was in her 90's with Alzheimer's, and the one that I got Bev and myself in trouble with. It was back, more than a year ago, when Bev told me that she'd been to my cousin's and saw my aunt being left alone in a locked house while she went to work. My sister wanted them to do something, and gave them a limited amount of time to act. Well, when I heard about it, I couldn't just sit there. I felt an obligation, and called Adult Protective Services of the county where I grew up. The next thing I know, there's a SWAT Team, and the street's closed off, and my male cousin, the attorney? The one who should know better? He wants my phone number and my head on a platter, order unimportant.

But, Bev got to see Francie in the nursing home, and sent me pictures. She was asleep at the time, and Bev said she was clean, her hair was soft and she was all cozy and warm. This is one of the two



Sorry, I don't know how to rotate it. It was the 26th Anniversary of our mom's death, October 23rd, when this photo was taken. There won't be a funeral. Just a cremation with her kids and their families in attendance. They're still annoyed *shrug*. It just seemed to me, at the time, that they got used to her in decline, and didn't realize what it would look like to somebody from the outside. They weren't prosecuted for it; I called the station and politely asked with the SWAT, etc., wanting to know if they'd be in trouble. I was told no, and that was enough for me. But Cousin H will be pissed for a very long time - his dignity, you know. Btw, I'm adding, she was widowed back in the early 70's; my uncle died shoveling snow, and when she saw him on the ground, outside the living room window, she ran out in her slippers - first to him and then to a neighbor's house for help - losing one in the snow. It was found the following spring.

For many years, she was inconsolable. He had been the first of my parents' generation to die. She bought a puppy for companionship; it looked like a terrier, and was supposed to grow to that size. But, in six months, it was a big as a German Shepard and pooping all over her kitchen (so much for judging by the paws.) My dad helped her to buy a car; Cousin H was a real sweetheart about that too, as if my father didn't care about his wife's sister . Come to think of it, both of my parents battled him and his wife over the decades. My brother said, referring to our uncle, "He's been waiting patiently." I wish them both the best in the Worlds of God. I could just see them, playing pinochle with my folks and Frank & Annie - where they'll get the cards and pennies, I don't know.

Anyway, saw Michael yesterday. We went out to the farmer's market and they were closed. All of them, all down the road, from what it looked like. I didn't realize they would shut down like that. So, it was to Wendy's for lunch and back home he went. But we were all so happy that the roads were passable. We hadn't seen him since Christmas.

And so much for my no shopping year.

What's at Etsy? I wondered. Maybe just take a peek? I thought. What could it hurt? I said. Well, 25 bucks later, I've bought three Scottish brooches, set with real agates, and with one of them signed by an artist named Weiner. I've wanted one ever since I saw that portrait of Richard III, with such a one pinned to his hat. And they're a good size, too. Frailty, thy name is Sara. I can't wait till they get here .






Another storm is breezing in today. Just what we need - NOT. Be safe and keep warm, joon-ams.



sara

[shireling]

We finally went out today.

The storm that came through late Sunday night, left a beautiful blanket of snow over everything - beautiful as long as you're not out in it.
But the property manager has gotten his act together, and our sidewalks and lot are well-plowed. My upstairs neighbor got stuck trying to back out on Sunday, so Renee and I tried to push from the hood. What finally got her moving was driving up onto the sidewalk, and reversing from there. That's what got us out of our space this morning; I got it on the second try.

So far I've done pretty well with the water drinking, etc. I've been keeping a bag of roasted almonds in my Tardis cookie jar, eating six of them at a time for snacks. I've been at this for a couple of weeks, with one main meal (with the Honey) and five snacks to fill out the rest of the day. The snacks, besides the almonds, are three slices of gouda on Ritz, or a Glucerna shake. But if I do those last two, it's only once a day for each. And I haven't needed a nap . Not for the past three days. Very odd. But last night, I was so hungry that I made myself two sandwiches - one was a sort of grilled cheese (two pieces of toast with three slices between, and nuked for 20 seconds), and the other was about 1/4 cup of crunchy peanut butter between untoasted bread . O Lord, were they good! And I didn't feel like I'd spoiled my plan at all. That would be exactly how I'd feel in the past, but this morning, it's another day and it's like that never happened. I'm well into the day, and I'm on track.

Yesterday afternoon into the night, a car horn was blowing on and off in the parking lot. It was aggravating, and I did finally break down and call the police. After the first hour of this, I thought maybe it might be somebody in distress - stuck in the car, can't get out, maybe wounded by an arrow. In my younger days, I would go down and investigate on my own. But now, I pity anybody whose only rescue is me. You haven't seen me so you can't imagine , but the worse case scenario is that I'd need saving too. Anyway, our finest came to check it out, but that made no end to the beeping. Somebody was yelling at whomever to stop, but that did nothing to remedy the situation either. With any luck, that won't happen again today.

Well, I'm off to check the mail, and bring back a glass of water to my desk. Have a blessed rest to your day.


sara

[shireling]

You know, there are times when you try to do something good and you completely mess it up?



We went out to lunch today. Every Friday, we've been going to Steak 'n Shake, and I saw this couple park around the side of the building.
There are four handicapped spaces, and all of them were taken when we got there. I could see that the man had Parkinson's, he had that mask-like appearance to his face, and she wasn't walking too well either. Neither had the help of a cane or a walker. So as I was pulling in just a few cars down from them, I thought that I'd pay back the kindness we were shown a few weeks ago.

Now I didn't want Duane to know; this was money that I budget for myself for haircuts and such. So when we went inside, I hung back, hoping to see the server that took care of us that day, but she wasn't there. I called Victoria over, gave her a twenty and told her that I really needed to keep an eye on my husband. Would she please put this toward their tab? Sure.

So, we eat. They eat. They are right across the aisle from us. And when I find out how much their bill is, I add the rest to the twenty - only I had to give it to another server. I told him that V. had the rest, and he assured me that he'd take care of it. Well, he'd gotten the $20 from V., gave it to the couple, and they left without paying.

*sigh*

Oh my God! Best laid plans. Well, I saw what happened. V. tried to catch them before they drove away, but couldn't. I felt awful, and said, "How do I make this right?" They just said, "It's okay - we've taken care of it."

I've done this before, but it was while going through the drive-thru. I'd take care of the person behind me - I've done that a bunch of times. But this is the first time I tried doing this. It's the last time too .

Oh well.


sara

[shireling]

Well, I waited all day for my brooches to come. They were scheduled to arrive sometime before 8 PM, but now...

I'd forgotten how much I love/hate waiting for things to come. We live on the second floor, and there's a door that joins the two halves of the building. I lost my Beatle CDs because they were just outside my door. My upstairs neighbor picked them up and put them beside the door, standing up and leaning against the wall. So, I look and there's nothing there. My USPS account says they were delivered, but they're not there. And Rosemary says, Oh yeah. I stood them up next to your door. Well, I look, and they're supposed to be right. in. front. of. the. door. That's how you find them, immediately. You almost step on them, and they're on the carpet, right in front of you. She felt so bad, but didn't offer to replace them - I didn't ask her to either. But I did call Barnes & Noble, and said

I did express my concerns to the clerk who waited on me. I worried that they might get stolen.
And what were you told?
That I could only get home delivery. I was reluctant to get them if I couldn't just pick them up from the store (we drive past it four days a week, for cryin' out loud.) But I really wanted them...

They got the same story from their employee, re-ordered them for me, and I picked them up at the counter. They didn't charge me again, but I won't buy any more music from them, unless that policy changes. Anyway, I'm on pins and needles, refreshing the USPS home page, and looking to see if I need to run to the door. I've also deleted the bookmarks for ebay and Etsy - should have done that earlier. I can still look, but it's more work to type them in - not a lot, but some. I've got the brooches in there though, so that my seller gets her review.

Duane is making a family tree for me. I only know through my grandparents, and then, I don't know my grandmas' maiden names at all. I just sat down at his computer and typed in all that I had. It's sweet of him to do this; I'm still blown away by the DNA results.

I just finished listening to Radiolab. It was about surrogacy and how women in Nepal and India were being hired to gestate babies for couples in Israel. It's treated like a business, and the ladies get paid, though the outlay is some 12,000 dollars US from the couples.
The birth mothers only get about 5000 of that; for some of them, domestics, who make less than one US dollar a month, that's a fortune. But, it's not what at least one of the couples thought they should be paid - and having given birth to one very large baby boy myself - I concur. It was assumed that the pay would be much more, say at least 10 thousand. And in Muslim countries, the ladies' lives could be at risk from the self-righteous monsters who stalk their neighborhoods. I know I'm being harsh, but I have no patience with people who use their religion to control the lives of others.

Like at the Bazaar Ladies Luncheon this year. I found out that some of the money we made went to a Catholic organization that fools women into thinking that they're going into the clinic, when they're actually arriving at a place that will try to talk them out of it. Now, some hospitals won't perform abortions at all, not even therapeutic ones, and clinics are the only place to go if you need to end the pregnancy in order to save your fertility and/or life. I would never do it myself. My own philosophy is "Pro-life for me; pro-choice for everybody else." How so many people have so much time to spend involving themselves in the affairs of total strangers, I'll never know. Unless it's the ones with thirteen shackled and starving kids, good Christ. A nosy neighbor or two would certainly not have gone amiss there.

I, for one, can't imagine life without Mikey. I could never do it, even if I'd known about his disability ahead of time. It was my choice, and I'll be damned if anybody was going to tell me one way or the other. Like my in-laws. They told me not to have children because of Duane's brothers' condition. So we considered adoption - my sister even offered to surrogate for us. But we finally said no, because she wanted a daughter after three sons, and I was worried that the baby might be a girl. It would be too hard, and later on, we discovered that the Baha'i Faith doesn't support that at all. There's no real reason given that I can recall, but it's not that hard to figure out. It would be such a mess in the end.

Where was I? Oh, the surrogacy. Well, I guess I sort of covered it, didn't I? Yeah, I think I did. Anyway, it's after 5 PM and I'm ready for supper.


sara

[shireling]

They're here! The brooches are here! Oh, they are so pretty, and big, and heavy!

I was a little concerned about them, the state of the metal when I zoomed in, but it looks like the seller cleaned them up. I really love them, and I would like to write my review, but I can't until the 24th. Why that's done, I don't know. Most of them have dates two or three days away from when the purchase arrives - it's a peeve of mine. Anyway, they are in my jewelry box. I'm thinking about taking them to the repair lady and having new clasps put on - they just don't seem all that reliable to me; they date back to the 1970's. But, these pieces are absolutely gorgeous to behold, and I'm delighted in my guiltiness about buying them .

We hosted Feast last Thursday, and I've been a very bad foodisher ever since. It wasn't until 5 PM today that I was able to rein myself in. It's better if I can do it during the day, and not wait until the next morning to start all over. So, I've gotten the water back on track, and that's the hardest part for me. I simply have to do this, if I'm to have any chance of having an old age at all, let alone get my bum into those jeans .

Yesterday was the first Franciscan get together since last November. I'm having a 'ceremony' in February, and that will make it official. I am going to be a GFF instead of an OFS or AOS. GFF stands for 'good friend of Francis'. So, I'll have my own niche. I'm still the Infirmarian, which is a volunteer position; I can't vote or serve on the Council, and this is the only position available to me. I was told that if it's too much that I don't have to do it, but it's really not. And it helps me in getting to know the others in the Fraternity. I'm not turning in my receipts for stamps; I usually buy them when I go through the ATM, and I keep forgetting to get a separate paper. Mary's getting me more birthday cards; I only have one left. The next date is February 10th, and I'll buy two more to cover the 13th and the 22cd.

I also need to get back into prayer. I've been neglecting it, and there's no excuse. I don't know what I may be getting in terms of books next month at the little ordination the Franciscans are having for me, but there's the Litany of the Hours that we've begun as of Sunday. I'm speaking mainly of my Baha'i responsibilities - I've been slacking off. It started when I had the flu, and it just kept sliding even when I was better. Like with my other stuff, it's vital that I get back to it. Especially since I promised Ken that I'd pray for his roommate.

Actually, now would be a good time before I go to sleep.



sara

[shireling]

Lots of bits to write about.

Yesterday, I called a couple of Franciscans that have been staying away from the meetings. Mainly it's the husband, who takes issue with some of the political standings of the local Council leaders, and I wouldn't have known that unless I talked to them. We gabbed for almost two hours. I hope he wasn't put off by my understanding of certain historical thingys that the Church was involved in, mainly dealing with Joan of Arc (I still don't understand why she's not a martyr; that is still not cleared up for me.) Anyway, according to Earl, she was declared a witch because she beat the British hedgehog (all dem archers), by drawing the dudes in the heavy armor into boggy patches of ground, and staying out of the arrows' way. Not all that different from Elizabeth I kicking Spanish booty during the Armada. Phil II sends these big ol' mamma ships into the Channel, and Bess has got these swift itty bitty boats just making their lives hell. Yep, that was witchcraft, too, and though I'm not a fan of the Tudors, I love Elizabeth. What a tough cookie.

The other thing was that King David was very, very sorry after sending Bathsheba's hubby to the front lines. And because he was so contrite, God forgave him and let him keep all his stuff. So, he didn't kill Uriah the Hittite outright but he didn't intend for the man not to come home? He just thought Uriah would like a challenge? A chance to try out his brand new spear on some bad guys? *sigh*

Think Bathsheba would have gotten away with sending Uriah to gather wild adders? I mix the venom with milk and salt, it makes a wonderful bath scrub, don'cha know? Oh, thank you, honey. See you when you get back. And when he's brought home, swollen up like a tick, Bathsheba is so sorry, just as sorry as David would be, if he hadn't thought of it first. Think she'd get all forgiven? Don't think so.

To paraphrase Yoda, "My own council will I keep, on who is to be king." But I did enjoy the conversation, though it has reinforced to me why King David got a break, and Joan of Arc didn't.

On the DNA front, Duane found out that he's a 7-times great grandson of Lord Baltimore, on his dad's side. Who was Catholic ! I have been teasing him all evening . At one point, there was a conversion to the Anglican Church from a later son, which from the sound of it, was politically driven in order to get back some confiscated property, and then a further one to Quakerism, which made them lose it again. We have some extensive work done by my mother-in-law on her side, with Puritans as the first family mentioned in the 1600's, all the way to the present. But we had nothing on Marlin. I am just tickled to death; Helen was no 'friend' of Papists. She never really saw me as anything other than that, even though I'd been a Baha'i all my adult life. I guess, after the past few years at Saint Francis, and seeing as how most of people there are proudly 'cradle to grave' Catholic, I can forgive her for thinking that it's impossible to be anything else. But, now I wonder, what if I had become Quaker? Hmmm....

I'm calling the vet tomorrow. Duane wants Amy seen. He has always been cheap when it comes to the cats, but when I told him about how worried I am about her, he said take her. I said, "It wouldn't be because you're attached, are you?" He didn't say, but he did blush. I hope I can get her in to see Dr. Blaklock; she took care of Tasha. I hope it's not diabetes, but with all the drinking she's been doing, it just might be. I moved her bed from atop the covers at the foot of mine, to the floor, just east of where the dresser vents the heat from the register. She rolled off the bed a couple of weeks ago, during the day - which I never expected to have happen. I don't want her trying to climb up during the night. Poor baby. She hates the doctor as much as I do.

I took to wearing one of my new brooches, the round one. It's my favorite, hands down, and probably the favorite of the original owner. You can tell from the clasps; this one let go as I was taking groceries from the car, and I found it on the asphalt. It was pin-side down, no harm done, but that does it. We're off the fixer tomorrow. As far the cross-shaped one and the Weiner Original, the first did benefit from a bit of gorilla glue at both ends of the clasp. That makes me think that it was worn a bunch, but not as much as the round one. The Weiner rectangle is not as pretty, and the back is practically mint. You don't have to be Sherlock to figure this out.

Yesterday, I went through my Betty Crocker Cookbook. It was a bridal shower gift from my favorite aunt. I loved Annie; always feeding squirrels, talking to trees. She bought me my first Bible, when I was fourteen. Big ol' red Catholic bible - like they talk about in DUNE.
That was the Bible I used to study Baha'i - don't tell anybody . Anyway, I had so many greeting cards in it that the book was ruined - without help, it would not recover. So, I gathered all the photos out of them, separated the three I wanted to keep (that's all I found - one was from Michael, and the others were from friends who have died.) I'm giving them to Mary to get to the lady who makes the fantastic greeting cards that we buy for my Infirmarian job. As for the cookbook, I applied a heavy layer of Elmer's to the back and made it stand on a ruler with a rolled top. That forced the spine to adhere to the pages. It's still drying, as I speak. I've never used it. , except as a file for greeting cards.

Well, it's 11 PM here. Off to bed I go.


goodnight,
sara

[shireling]

Amy's appointment is on Tuesday. The Honey's coming with, mainly to carry the carrier and so that we both get blamed. Ever since I called over there, she's looked and acted better, but we should still go. The last time she was seen by Dr. Blaklock was in 2013. That was when I boarded Kess and her so that I could visit my dad. Now since then, she's been to a Banfield Clinic where they cleaned her teeth and tried to see why she snores. It was just too expensive for us to stay with them; her last visit was in 2015 - that's when the cleaning was done. I don't know what her baseline is anymore. Anyway, Dr. Blaklock is on duty that day; I am so relieved.

Back at Ancestry, Duane's 7 times great-grandma, Jane Lowe, was married to a man named Nicholas Sewell until his death. His eldest son, also Nicholas, became stepson to Charles Calvert, 3rd Baron Baltimore, when Nick was 11. So, no nobility to that match after all , but they were still Catholic ! I am having so much fun with this - I wish my mother-in-law was here .

And, while we're talking the UK, my bonny brooch remains broken. The shop is closed until Tuesday at 11 AM. They're only open three days a week, and Tuesday's the earliest I can get it there. But it'll be worth the wait. I'm wearing the other two on my denim jacket. I found they could stand a bit more polish, and there's some lovely scroll work on the metal 'neath the dross. Oh, I am so tickled with them!

Michael's coming over tomorrow. We're going to Devotions. The topic is PEACE.

Oh, I found one of those 'Bake & Takes'. I stopped to pick up crackers for the Honey, and decided to check out the kitchen wares. These huge stores, with a HOME and a FOOD section, are both blessing and curse. I parked at the wrong end, so while walking toward the Triscuits, I picked up the two birthdays cards necessary to get me through February, and grabbed an Anchor-Hocking casserole tote; I spotted it on the bottom shelf! In teal! *SQUEE* O for joy, for joy! I'm not particularly found of teal - unless I'm playing SCRABBLE - but, now I don't have to pester Barb for her's anymore, or wait for USPS to deliver one to me! It was a bit difficult to find a spot to store it, but once I moved my metal 9"x13" pan to the microwave cart, the tote fit perfectly where that used to live, above the counter.

This morning I watched Norma, from the MET. It's a Bellini, about a Druid High Priestess (Norma) in love with a Roman Proconsul (Pollione). She's mother to his two children, brought up in secret by a friend - Girl, we don't do this stuff in Gaul - and while she still loves him, Pollione has fallen for Norma's disciple, Adalgisa. Man, that was good! When I first got into opera, I saw Aida. I think I've grown since then. I'm no longer blown away by ancients from anywhere, singing in modern Italian. And it's a very hard role for sopranos. One of them said that she'd rather sing Brunhilde four times in a row than Norma once. You can see, and hear, why. There's these stops, and then real soft, almost inaudible fadings into silence. It's like the voice is melting away to nothing, it's so good. Fastest three hours at 6 AM I've seen in a long time. There's the, I guess you'd call it, obligatory death(s), at the end - I don't think I'm giving anything away. I mean, what's Shakespeare without hookups in the Comedies, and burials in the other? You don't go to see 'Romeo and Juliet' for a happy ending; you know that the kids are not galloping off to Mantua when the curtain falls. Anyway, it was incredible .

Speaking of incredible, I'm listening to "The Agony and the Ecstasy" as I'm writing. I really should turn around and watch it. But my mind is too busy. I can't stop thinking about Uriah the Hittite.

It's not right. It's just not right. He didn't deserve to be treated like that. And I know I'm only me, and I don't have any business doing this, but I am declaring Uriah a martyr and saint. Saint Uriah the Hittite.



He is the Patron Saint of cuckolds and the betrayed; of soldiers and servants; of husbands and subjects, the loyal and the trusting; of newborns and Easter lambs.

He wears the Hittite armor of his time, with a sword sheathed at his left thigh and a shield upon his back. In his left hand, he bears the letter from King David, ordering him to the front lines, and in the crook of his right arm, he cradles a slaughtered lamb, symbol of the firstborn of David and Bathsheba. The Prophet Nathaniel condemned him for the murder of Uriah, and announced the death of the baby; the child died when it was six days old.

This is Saint Uriah the Hittite. A far better man than any king, and a far better king than the one he served.


...yeah...



sara

[shireling]

Paperwork came today from Michael's annual funding.

Everything is okay, except that he's continuing to steal food . It's getting worse, according to the folks at Sunny Spot, which is his adult daycare. They've added snacks - 10 AM and 1 PM - but it hasn't even slowed him down. Now, he's 6'3" and about 160 lbs - tall, skinny kid - and I don't wonder why he's hungry. What if his metabolism calls for more than he's getting? He's not stealing to hoard, he's eating what he takes. And at this point, he'll eat most things - provided they're not spinach.

It's hard to stay out of it. But he's 29, and he's the responsibility of the state. I know Jamie and crew have Mike's best interests at heart, and the last thing they need is me butting in. When he visits, like he did Sunday, we fed him what he wanted, and I'll be the first to admit that we do spoil him. I love him so much.


sara

[shireling]

My brother came by on Tuesday, and took me out to dinner.

We always go to Olive Garden, and I had these loaded pasta chips. They're Italian nachos, complete with Alfredo drizzle. I love it when he comes to visit. I get caught up on all the family news I can't get, a good conversation with a nice man, and four boxes of leftovers .
He says he'll be back in the summer.

Amy's appointment went well, though the trip was daunting. She went into the carrier okay, but as we walked out to the car, she cried and peed. A pale yellow waterfall cascaded over the lip of the door, and pattered on the blacktop, splattering Duane's shoes. Fortunately I'd laid down two piddle pads and they caught quite a bit in spite of her.

When we got there, the receptionist sprayed a towel and laid it over the door of the carrier. We sat there for about ten minutes, and saw that Amy had calmed down. Doctor B. came in and recognized me; she took our paperwork from Banfield and added it to her file. I told her that I wanted a wellness visit, and when she asked if there was anything else, I lost it and sobbed that I was afraid she had the sugar - due to the mass drinking/mass peeing of the past couple of months. I got handed a tissue, and was told that it could be other stuff, not good stuff, but bad, like kidneys and thyroid.

By the time they opened the carrier, our girl was like a floppy plush kitty (it's a hormone they used on the towel.) And they took her to the back. They drew blood and checked her over. And from the pads, they were able to collect enough urine for testing. That was the best, because the labs came back good yesterday morning. Except for the UA.

No diabetes, no thyroid, no kidney disease - but - the urinalysis showed she has a UTI. So, we went this morning and she got a injection of antibiotics. That should kill it; it lasts about two weeks. We opted for that because I don't think I could get the other choices in her. Tasha was a surreptitious spitter, and I was way better at handling that kind of thing back in the day than now. All the tech did was open the carrier door, give her the shot and close it. She didn't have to move a muscle.

Otherwise Amy's a pound heavier, her teeth are good and clean, and they found a hair in her ear (that was what was tickling her when I saw her scratching.) No mites or any other free-loaders. I asked if I should change her food, because canned food does a better job with the blood sugar (an ounce of prevention, I'm thinking.) I was told to just add some to her kibble. So, I picked up these SHEBA little wee pates of salmon, chicken, tuna and turkey (about 1.3 ounces a kidney-shaped container), and I gave her one when we got home. Scarfed it right down . There's been no reaction to the shot, and I feel a whole lot better. I hope she does, too .

Duane has been actively delving into his family tree. He's back at the time of the English Civil War, and he's got a Cavalier great-grandpa who hosted Charles I. Now this guy was nobility - darned if I can remember his name. He's so cute! Last night, as he got into the shower, he's telling me how cool it is to just be able to google his ancestors. This is on his dad's side, all of this, and now he's watching a show with me about Queen Elizabeth I's spymasters (just in case some branch or other shows up at court.)

I'd love that, too - just hope that, if that's the case, that none of them got on the wrong side of her.



sara

[shireling]

...this is really amazing...

Duane and I had bought Ancestry DNA kits for Christmas. And right away, he started to work out the family tree on his dad's side. Well, he found a lot of folks that are historical figures; he's got cousins in his background like the late Princess Diana and Winston Churchill.

The biggest mystery we saw in Duane's pie chart was the 17% Scandinavian (the British Isles makes up the bulk of the rest.) So, he thought he'd try to go back and try to see where that led. And as he's scrolling back the centuries, he finds that Blessed Margaret Pole, is his 16 times great-grandmother (I had to ask because I don't know if it goes up or down - I can be that dumb, ask anybody - which is why the number has kept changing in this post.) Margaret Pole was the daughter of George Plantagenet, the 1st Duke of Clarence, 1st Earl of Salisbury, and 1st Earl of Warwick KG. He was born on October 21st, 1449 in Dublin Castle, Ireland, and died in the Tower of London, February 18, 1478.

He was the third surviving son of Richard Plantagenet, 3rd Duke of York, and Cecily Neville - see where this is going? And, the brother of English Kings, Edward IV, and *squee* Richard III. I called Kathy in Iowa, and told her. She's Duane's first cousin - Aunt Mildred was Marlin's older sister - so this all applies to her as well. What happened was Duane walked into the bedroom, asking who Margaret Pole was. I about dropped my teeth. He had been in the Standford Family Tree and was pointed to Ursula Pole, who married Henry Standford. He clicked on the edge of her name, and there was Blessed Margaret Pole.

This makes Richard Duane's 17 times great-uncle. And mine, too! by marriage . We checked, double-checked, triple-checked. Other than Richard, he didn't know who these other people were - and living with me, how could you not? He's gone all the way back to Rollo of Normandy, who was the 3 times great-grandfather of William the Conqueror. Rollo was Viking, not enough for the 17% in the pie chart, but, other than finding Rollo was the brother of King Harald Finehair, the trail goes very cold after that - at least, with the tools we have. But, for me, this has all led to some very sobering thoughts.

It's gotten me to thinking about the degenerative neurological and autism spectrum disorder in Duane's family. In addition to the uncleship of Richard, he's also a cousin. These folks were all cousins, married by papal dispensation, over hundreds of years, to keep the power and authority central. It wasn't to avoid possible medical issues, they didn't think like that back then, but to make sure that the unions didn't fall into the realm of incest. So, it could be that those problems we've had with the Honey, his father, brothers and our Mikey, all come from Marlin's side. We might still find a common ancestor on my mother-in-law's, but even if we don't, this is looking like a real possibility.

So, on the one hand, all of this is so very cool (my sweetie's a Plantagenet, and a nephew of my Dickon! . ) But on the other, the genetics can catch up with you in ways that nobody wanted. Even if this isn't the case, it's bitter-sweet. Especially for an unrepentant Ricardian like me. I want to add that we've found out that two of the Baha'is in our community are cousins to each other and Duane, going back to William I, and they all feel the same about these guys. Like Mel. She refers to Charlemagne as Grandpa Chuck. And it's all in affection. I don't think we'd like them all that much if we knew them in life - probably wouldn't care for us either - and I'm the only one in the room who's related by marriage (I'm too lazy to do my tree at this point.) I've had this portrait of Richard hanging in the bedroom for years now; he's family, my Uncle Dickon, and I'm just tickled to bits.

Oh, and btw, on this date, February 4th, 2013? The University of Leicester confirmed, with DNA, that the skeleton exhumed in the parking lot of a human resource building, was that of Richard III.



sara

[shireling]

I'm glad I got to work on my Infirmarian job yesterday.

Every three months or so, I send cards to shut-ins. And as of the new's letter for February, the number of souls has more than doubled. I had five 'Get Wells' (including a 'I'm So Sorry to Hear About Your Accident), four blanks with a quote from Saint Francis on the cover, and since I'd spent a couple of hours on the phone with Earl, I could send a 'thank you' for the conversation (but he's not feeling good either.)
So, the Accident greeter is still in the box, but all of the others are snail-mailing their way to their new homes. I know how it is to be stuck inside by one thing or another; I hope the cards are the pick-me-up I intend.

We're having a real tough snow, right now, as I speak. We were supposed to go to check out headstones for Phil, but as soon as I heard what was coming, I cancelled. I don't need to be on the road. Eventually, we ended up with 6 windswept inches, shellacked with ice. It's beautiful to behold, but wild horses couldn't tickle me into leaving the house.

My plan for no-shop jewelry is kaput . The one Scottish brooch is in the shop, getting a new clasp; the cicada pin I bought to commemorate my fanfic, "Dancing with Cicadas", came in the mail on Monday. And, right now, I'm arranging a custom-made pendant to honor Nana Pole, the Honey's martyred great-grandma, Margaret. Yesterday, at Feast, we found out that two of our friends are also cousins to Duane and each other, going back to William the Conqueror; I'm the only odd one out . But then, I haven't done the work that they have to find all that.

Amy's better . This morning I hung a bag of SHEBA chicken dinners on F & J's door; maybe their girls would like them. I'd opened two and ended up throwing them away, untouched. Don't need to tell me more than that. I gave Amy one of the two salmon I have left, and she was on it like catnip. So now we know - fish it is.

My sister called, but didn't leave a message. I hope everything's okay. I called her back, but didn't get her. My brother-in-law has a pacemaker now. I am worried. When Steven was here, he asked how Don was. The last I heard, he was doing well. I hope she calls me today.


sara

[shireling]

Bev called.

Don's fine; he's lost twelve pounds, he feels better and he's doing all the cooking. I'm glad, I was worried. Also, my oldest nephew has a new job that he's happy with; his middle brother is taking names? losing names? making a list, checking it twice? - I don't remember what she said about him. Poor Bri. I never remember what's going on with him, beyond the fact that he has amazing skills as a surfer, contractor and chef.

But the baby (34-year-old baby) is hiring himself out as a computer recovery tech. I guess he tried it a few years ago, but it all fell through. Now he has a base of support, word of mouth to the point that he has had to turn folks away; there's not enough hours to take care of all the people who could use a guy like him. I'm happy for Eric; I hope he's successful. His mom has been so concerned about his future.

Good thing we stayed home. We were just shy of a Level Three when it comes to the roads (you can get arrested if you're just tooling around with a Level Three.) The county where the monuments company is, had the worst possible street conditions to date. It's just as well we didn't go out.

As for my pendant of Nana Pole, the lady has all the information and will make it for me. I don't have a date, but I told her I'm in no hurry. The picture I chose looks like an icon.



There are three items notable in this painting: a very tiny oval, depicting the three Red Lions of England, hanging from her right wrist; a W (I assume for Warwick) on the cuff of her left; and a panel, depicting the Five Wounds of Christ, upon the breast of the of the white shirt she holds stretched between her hands.

It's this last that supposedly condemned her, as a symbol of those who stood against the king and his divorce. Some think that Thomas Cromwell planted it in her cell (she was holed up in the Tower for two years, and didn't have this with her when she moved in.) Anyway, I'm really looking forward to this pendant. I know she's Duane's ancestor, but I called his mom and dad, Mom and Dad, and his aunts and uncle, Aunt Verla, Aunt Mildred and Uncle Harold, so why can't I call her 'Nana Pole'? She stood up as best she could to that murderous codpiece, and I am mighty, mighty proud of her. I've loved all my grandmas - who couldn't use one more?

It is 10:50 PM. Time I went to bed.


'night, my joons
sara

[shireling]

No Michael today .

One of the boys was in the hospital - it was a med adjustment - leaving the house short, so. I didn't think they were going to come anyway. We've had 24 hours of freezing rain. Everything looks like it's been decoupaged, and the temperature is still going to be near freezing tomorrow. I shudder to think how I'm going to get into the car. I do have a can of DW-40 to spray into the locks, not that that will help with where the doors close. I don't mind being shut up inside for a couple of days, but I'm going to want to get out of here come Monday.

Still, it is beautiful to behold, all that ice. The branches glisten like crystal. This is the worst thing about this time of year, when you have virtually no balance and a pittance of mobility. I really need to wash clothes, and I'm going to have to come the morning, like it or not. Walking upstairs the last few times has been miserable. I'm fine if I can stand right next to the railing and do hand-over-hand. But that's when I'm carrying at least one item, plus my cane. And the cane can be a real problem, getting around.

If I'm having a good day, I'm more than likely to trip over the thing. I don't use it around the house; we have furniture and walls close enough to support me from one end to the other. But once I go down the stairs, I lose the ability to keep stable. It's only a matter of seven steps, but the effort robs my legs of their balance. Then, it's out the door and down another three concrete stairs to the sidewalk, making it even worse.

You know what's really bad? Nobody sees this. Oh, Duane does, but it doesn't impact his behavior. The things that really annoy me are people finishing my sentences, interrupting me, making light of my difficulties, and joking about 'senior moments'. Fuck that, not to mention referring to me as "young lady".

I'm not old. I used to think so, that I was, but I'm realizing that my attitude is not in keeping with what I think of in terms of age. I'm not resentful of kids. I don't mind that babies cry or run around in the unit upstairs. I want immigrants in my neighborhood, in my building, among my friends, and they are. When I see black and white youths together, in pairs or in groups, it brings me joy. I love music - all kinds - and I'm sad that CDs are being phased out. Next weekend there's a huge dinosaur exhibit downtown, and I can't go. I can't manage the trip on my own, and there's no one to go with. Oh, the Honey would go with me, but he can't drive and I have to look after him, as well as make it on my own. I can't get worn out, because I have to drive home, and I'm scared, what with all those damn one-way streets. *sigh* It's the winter that takes so much out of me. No, to me being old is being spiteful and nasty, and chances are that if you presented that way as when you were younger, you'll just double-down on it as time advances.

There's nothing wrong with aging; if you live long enough, it's bound to happen. It's the limitations I'm running into that are the worst. I would much rather people ignore those than joke about them; I don't find it at all funny.

I am going to call Kelly and ask her if she would like to go shopping with me. We had a great time over Christmas, and I need summer blouses (forget I ever mentioned the no shopping thing.) I can't see me ever getting another action figure - *sigh* unless it's the Thetan from The Outer Limits. Anyway, I have only two blouses fit for the public; all I have to do is drip a bit of hamburger grease on the one, and I'm done for until I can get it upstairs to wash. They're all I've got, one a dark olive and the other black. I'm calling now...

Kelly is available Wednesday, and we'll do lunch and shop! Thank you for letting me vent. Not that you could have stopped me, but you know what I mean. Oh, and I did do four loads of wash . I'm so happy! Now I can stay up and watch TV 'til I can't watch no more!


sara