see if I can be quick about this

After about 5 different opinions as to my genetic ancestry...all of them together have overlapped in certain areas and theories, so maybe that much has had enough "witnesses" to make it true.

I am almost perfectly divided between Scandinavian and Celtic. One site called me Germanic, another simply European, with a tinge of Slavic, or Asian which is not common for most Europeans. Well, folks, I am definitely 100% American.

Questions answered by last DNA test

I was most excited to get my results from the most recent DNA test. Infact, I had spent all of my money on it, and that means it was how I chose to spend what little Christmas money I had.

Previously, I was speculating on how on earth I could have DNA matches in Iceland and Greenland, so I decided that it had to come from my Scottish and Norwegian/Swedish/Danish ancestry. but, while I was researching, I stumbled on a video that commented about mysteries and how they were solved when determining ethnicity results. One comment was that when your results do not have a clear match it is assumed that they are of a type they have little to no knowledge of... I felt so much relief that at east mine was an educated guess and easy to believe. Though, as I studied more I discovered that Greenlanders often crossed path with "Scrawlings" and because my haplogroups were clearly traceable to everwhere but Greenland, perhaps that match was from some native American.

But, I self-concluded after study of RAW DNA files that the website had been correct in so many "assumptions" because archeomatches had been so close in genetic distance (Centimorgans) that those matches were more that my ethnicity they were my direct ancestors. But, how could I have descended from an island way far away? Likewise, why did I have so many matches here in Utah? my intellectual side decided that it was more likely that a name was found on records and appropriated as a common ancestor, so I decided to get to the bottom of this, and not simply accept that I was right because my paper trail said so. I took another DNA test.

This new test did not say I was from Iceland or Greenland, but from America (Aztec to be precise). Ok, I knew that was likely, and almost everything I had known prior was supported, and this testing company had no way of knowing what to conclude. Uh, so why Aztec? with minor bits of Asian and Finland. That old comment came back to mind about how when results were undefinable, they were given a category that the tester knows little to nothing of. Perhaps this is the case.

I was watching a video where the explorer was  trying to find out if some claims in Wisconsin were false that claimed to be a previous Aztec home, and the video was quite persuasive that the Aztec origin came from Canada and the US. One way was the word Michigan. Where I was born and raised was highly Um, Native American, our school was the Red Skins. The town where I lived had an Indian name, and we went on an elementary school field trip to the Picture rocks in Pitoski, or somewhere. The female bathroom said "Squaws", (not really evidence of anything, just a funny memory I wanted to include).

My mother had a more easy solution for how I would have this Aztec heritage, when they came to America, Spouses were taken back to the nobility and married off in Spain. The Iberian/Basque/French heritage is definite and found in each and every sibling, and easy to comprehend.

Maybe I ought to do an advertisement for CRI Genetics, because they have supported the veracity even in things that are not identical to previous tests. I feel like they are probably correct even though I do not actually know how they determined that I had Aztec Roots, and I have not yet figured it out, myself, but I will and I conclude that because of the results of this recent DNA test, I have one more piece to a puzzle that I have nothing but expectations will be solved.

Hygenie

Warning: this will most likey be the most useless thought that I have ever shared. as I was watching a video where a cleaning ritual took place, I got all thoughtful and stuff. Each person cupped up water as a basin traveled from person to persn. I first thought, hmm, it must be a honor to be first, because after like the third or furth person I actually cringed at the thought of using water that was left over from previous users... they would swish water in theuir mouths and blow their noses in this "cleaning" basin, and at first I thought how wonderful they are exposing how such filfthy men kept themselves cleanish...which always is a thing I wondered about. but as I was being grossed out I thought a rebuking thought, "Yeah, well, it is not lke bathing in shared water." Admitedly, baths had always upset me, most of all hair washing. that was a thing that ought not even be attempted unless showering. I think of all of the gross dirt and oils in the water, and it makes no sense that you had previously washed your body in the same water, ok, ok, but this thought was referring more to how unhytgenic it is to swim with others, but we use chlorine, and take showers before swimming. " oh, you do, do you?" the thought chidded, and suddenly the Icelandic way of pre-swim showering nude made more sense, and I topped that thought off with the memory of Moana saying, "... Fish pee in you all day..." or how divers stay warm in semidry suits by peeing in the suit. I have actually doe it, and I dare to be grossed out by this communal basin ritual?

Tatting tales?

 This is sure to be unrelated to anything, and a sure sign that I am getting old, my t houghts, andd dreams even, are of tatting.

I have thought it many times, but it is the sort of thing one gains through experience over time and it is considered common sense, but Tatting is all about matching the right needle with the right medium (thread). So many times I nearly gave up thinking I was a flop and unable to tat worth a flip because no matter how I tried, I could not match the images that my pattern suggested would be the end result, only to find that it was not my technique, but a matter of the wrong needle!

This morning, i decided to tat all-purpose thread, it was so teensy I decided the finest or smallest needle would work, cause the needle I was using kept getting stuck. I figured the eye of the needle was too large to slide the knots off. 

Then, I tried sohard to even see the eye to thread it, but ended up needing to ask my aughter to thread it for me. The pressure was on,I would not ask her to come rethread the needle each failed attempt. But, I failed, I assumed it was a knot in the string coming off the needle or that the doubled up thread made it too large, either way, I struggle with it and pulled...when the needle snapped! That's it. I pulled out the scissors and pulled of the excess thread and threw it away, but as I was taking the broken needle back I thought, "So, that's it, huh/ Why not try the next size up?" couldn't hurt, although, it made no sense, if the needle was too large and was smaller, the next size would be larger. I tried it, and could actually t hread it, myself! And tmy amazement, it slid right off and looked great!!! Perhaps, I made the stitches a bit less tight, so I thought, "This willnot work, it would be like having a constant caveat, tat carefully or you'll knot up." So, for the heck of it,I tatted as tightly as i could and it still slid off nicely. So, it is once again, a matter of matching the Needle to the thread.

a bit of humor

Sometimes, usually when least expected, something strikes me as humorous, though the intent of causing laughter was never one it had. I heard this line during my studies today and they made me laugh, and I wanted to remember it so I will record it here.

"Wisdom went out unto the children of men, but could find no dwelling there..."

Equally funny, I was texting my daughter's teacher to express how thankful I was and I pressed an emoji with the intent of copying it to paste it in my message, but instead it sent immediately, it was a heart which generally means "I love you." So quickly I replied ooooops! And it was autocorrected to say, "poooop!"

Sorta funny, huh?

She's so Immortally beloved

Ha! I was listening to music for inspiration, like one of the videos my daughter watches where a guy walks around observing things for inspiration.

Anyhow, the song She's So High came on and my first reflex is always laughter. I do not really get that joke, but I laugh nonetheless. I was thinking about the song wondering what other side tracks it might lead me on, when I remembered how nearly every interviewer asked who the song was written for...one snarky chick said, " oh, it's alright if you tell. I don't mind." Tee hee hee. 

Of course, The author/composer (Tal Bachman) needed to answer that it was for his wife, cause he married her, right. But, truth is that doesn't actually matter anyhow. Sort of like how who Beethoven's Immortal Beloved is makes actually no difference. It is a captured genius and that is what matters. Men will always have a deep respect (almost fear) regarding a companion and when it is expressed it tends to fascinate the imagination, and the whole world seemed obsessed with knowing who deserved such great respect and reverence so I wanted to answer it clearly and set the record straight as to who this "muse" is.

Call it what you will. It is inspiration personified and to both of these genius caliber musicians (Beethoven and Tal Bachman) it was a lover, well yeah, duh. We all love truth, and those men who seek to posses it give it the gender of female and females refer to it as a man. (Side note: My Grandpa Babcock referred to each truck, car, tractor, etc, as a female IE: "Let's see what she does. or give her a bit of gas." )

The rest of us will find a name and it will suffice for a while, but it will not be correct.

There, I said my piece.

I think it is the not giving up

I'm chasing dreams that I'd rathergive up, but I think that must be important part of ever realizing a dream it is just too easy to discredit the goal when it seems out of reach and frankly impractical. I feel absolutely NO encouragement, not even my own, for motivation but I persist because giving up seems to "natural" a thing to do and once upon a time I felt a purpose and we all know that "when the going gets tough the tough get going." So, blah to discouragement in the form of a lack of encouragement.