Friday, January 28, 2011


It's been hammered into my brain since the dawn of my time, that I am "full-blooded" Norwegian.  Yeah, my brother would joke about rumors of an Irish infiltrator, but Norwegian was what we clung to.  And holy mother of god, are we ever Norwegian on my father's side.  Way back.  The WHOLE way back.  I've been doing our genealogy, and it's difficult because those stupid square-heads had a bad habit of giving their kids their first name as a form of their last name.  For instance, Lars Olsen would have a son named Ole Larsen, and a daughter named Ingrid Larsdr.  Ugly, annoying, and a bitch to track lineage.

But my dad's side has been tracked out to death, so I turned my attention to my mother's side.  And guess what?  Yep, a god damn Irish infiltrator.  And only 3 generations back!  And to make it even more scandalous, they are from Scotland, via Canada and Australia.  Can you say criminals?  I wonder if this qualifies me for Canadian citizenship.

OH!  AND that line, traced back eventually to England, has me descended from second cousins that married and a shit load of kids.  Probably cause they all kept coming out fucked up and they were trying for a keeper.  Or at least one that they could show in public.

So there you have it.  My fun little romp through my ancestry finds me with an entire branch that doesn't belong.  Not only that, this particular branch doesn't "branch" as much as it should.

Not that the purity, or lack there of, of my bloodline matters much now.  Especially since I have one daughter who self identifies herself as gray.  While bathing the other night, she was watching Mike shave.  She told him that he was brown.  When asked what she was, she answered repeatedly that she was gray.  I have no idea where that comes from.

Speaking of not knowing where things come from, Layla also informed me the other morning that I was "chesty".  All joking aside, where the hell would she even hear this term?  It's terribly dated.  Can't be from daycare because they only speak Spanish.  Not anything that Dora or the Dinosaur Train would discuss.  So, it's a mystery.  I mean, she's right.  I AM chesty, but it's still a very odd thing to have fall out of her mouth.

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