And We're Back

We're back to not doing things, I mean.  

Pretty much all I did today -- again-- was watch TV and knit.  I finished a hat, 

and cast on another.  

I also cast on another headband, but so far, it's just the cast on row, so no picture yet.  

The only thing of consequence I did was to move a few more of my daffodils into the back corner of my yard. 

While I was out there, I noticed my mint is starting to come up. 

By the way, if you ever decide to grow mint, be forewarned, the stuff spreads like wildfire and is nearly impossible to kill, so make dadgum sure you really want mint in your yard.  My neighbor gave me this when I first moved in, telling me it would keep mosquitoes away from my back door.  It doesn't, but hey, I've got mint tea whenever I want it.  

I also found something that looks like it might be wild blackberry, sprouted from seeds dropped there in bird poop most likely. 

I think I might try to cultivate these and see what comes from them.   I'm not a huge fan of blackberries, but they do make a good cobbler.  

Not much else is going on, but I did want to show you something.  In that drawer in my computer desk, I found some old USB drives and memory cards.  A couple of them were empty, but others had old photos and some documents on them.  One of those documents was a file sent to my by my brother years ago, in which a cousin had been tracing my maternal great-grandmother's ancestry.  It was all very interesting, but here are a couple of gems I want to share with you. 

This was the first man in that line to come to America, and apparently, he came as either an indentured servant or a full on slave. 

Yes, they had slaves in Europe, and yes, they were white slaves.  Usually they were either criminals sentenced to transportation, or debtors sold because they couldn't pay what they owed, or they were Irish. Peter Wells was made a freeman in 1679, because he either served his sentence or worked off his debt.  I wish I knew more about him, but I had to cut off my subscription to Ancestry.com when the economy started tanking. I know there are free sites out there, but I don't trust them -- especially after one claimed I was a descendent of Jesus Christ.  Yeah...

The second part I found really interesting was this one.  The fourth Peter Wells.  Apparently, that was a family named passed down through several generations.  What is interesting about this one is that he served in the Revolutionary War.  

I've got ancestors who served in every war the U.S. fought in, from the Revolution through the Korean Conflict, except for the Spanish American War.  There may actually be someone in my family who served in that one as well, I just haven't found him yet. As for the wars after Korea, I've got family members who served in those, but they weren't ancestors.  I'm not completely sure about Vietnam, but I seem to remember a distant cousin who fought in that one -- and by distant, I mean 2nd or 3rd cousin.  I'll have to look into that more. 

But not tonight. 

Tonight, I'm going to bed.

Goodnight. 

Didn't Last Long

 I mentioned the other day that they'd banned people from eating on the shop floor at work.  I don't mean literally on the floor, but you know...out while we're working.  So, yesterday about 6:30, I happened to glance over, and there was Stalker, mask pulled down below his chin, stuffing a sausage biscuit into his mouth.  

"Well, look who thinks he's special," I muttered to my coworker.  Then I had to correct myself, "I can't really say anything, because if I hadn't forgotten my breakfast at home, I'd be doing the exact same thing."  

I can neither confirm nor deny that this morning I may or may not have done something that could possibly resemble an activity that appears to be similar to eating my breakfast on the shop floor.  And that's all I have to say about that.

Looky, over here!  Let me show you my new shirt:

Now, there is debate in some of the Texas groups on how to count generations.  Some say you count from the first ancestor who moved to Texas.  Others say it's the first ancestor born in Texas.  The opinion seems to be about 50/50 split.  Me, I chose to count from the first ancestor who moved to Texas, since he was there before the Revolution. That would be William Abraham Winfree.  

While I was checking on Ancestry.com, I realized something fascinating.  Abraham -- as we in the family call him -- was born in Louisiana in 1802, when it was still part of France.  It became part of the American territories when Napoleon sold it to the United States in 1803 as The Louisiana Purchase, and became a state in 1812.  In 1830, Abraham moved his family to Texas, when it was still part of Mexico.  He remained there until his death in 1865.  During that time, Texas became an independent republic, a part of the United States, then part of the Confederate States Of America, and back to being part of the U.S. at the end of the Civil War. 

So, he lived in five different countries and never traveled more than 200 miles from his birthplace.  (He did live in the U.S. three different times, but I only counted it as one country.) I think that's pretty cool. 

Since masks are still required at work, I threw this one into the shopping cart, so I could rep the great state of Texas in style. 

The good news is, Mississippi's rolling 7 day average of new cases is slowly but surely decreasing.  The bad news is, I now know more about leading indicators and lagging indicators and rolling averages than I ever wanted to.  The more bad news is, according to state health officer Dr. Thomas Dobbs, 11 hospitals in the state still have zero ICU beds available.  That was from Friday's press conference, I believe... or Saturday's.  The days are all running together.  They didn't do one today, so I don't know the current status. 

The latest group of quarantined people are all back at work -- including the ones who actually had COVID -- except for one.  We were talking about him just this afternoon.  "Other Boss must be really sick, because he's still not back.  He got it at the same time as Kitter and Assembly Line Group Leader, and they're both back already."  That's when my coworker told me her pastor in is intensive care on a ventilator.  He's not doing well.  

Keep him in your prayers, please, if you're so inclined.  

UPDATE: I just found out my friend's pastor has passed away.  Please remember his family during this difficult time.

That Was Fast!

I must have been really tired last night.  I mean really tired.  Why?  Because I slept through the fireworks! 

My town does a carnival thing out at the lake every June called Thunder On Water.  It used to be a big deal.  I mean, they had big name stars coming and doing concerts and stuff.  Mark Chestnutt, Diamond Rio,  folks like that.  Several years ago, they stopped the concerts, and it's really gone down hill since.  Still, they have rides for the kids, craft vendors, and do fireworks.  This year, they had to move it, due to the flooding.  It's usually down by the spillway, but they are having it up by the airport this year.  That makes it even closer to the house.  And I still didn't hear the fireworks. 

My Piano Guys music book I ordered has arrived!  I was surprised at how fast it got here, too.  I was expecting it to take at least a week, since I didn't pay for expedited shipping. 

It even included an insert for the cello part. 

I suppose I could send that to my nephew Joshua, who plays the cello.  Maybe when I get my piano and learn to play it, we could do some duets. 

Ancestry.com has a new thing on their app.  What it is, whatever life event happened to your ancestor, it marks the location on a map.  It's so cool.  Naturally, most of mine are in the U.S. 

My U.K. map is pretty colorful,

as is my map of Sweden. 

They have another relatively new thing where you can add a label to an ancestor's profile.  I've been going back through my tree and marking all the immigrants.  It's kind of gotten me interested in researching my ancestry again.  And get this, I found an ancestor who was lost at sea!   

I'm sure that makes me a terrible person that I get so totally geeked out over that. 

Weirdos

I don't know why, but I always seem to attract the weirdos.  Take today at work, for example...

It was along about 1:00 PM, and the temp supervisor was leading a line of new hires through the plant.  I don't know where they take them.  Somewhere back in the warehouse to begin their training.

I'd been over at the computer at the time, and when I turned to go back to my brazing stand, I noticed them walking by.  The last guy in the line was looking at me.  I didn't think too much about it.  They look at us, and we look at them.  No big deal.  I got back to my stand and looked back over at the line.  This time, I was looking for people who'd worked here before, so we could say, "Oh, look!  So-and-so's back!"  Again, no big deal.  We do it all the time.  I didn't see anyone I recognized, but just as I was about to go back to work, a red knit hat caught my eye.

I did a double take, because it wasn't just a plain stockinette hat.  I studied it for a moment, thinking it might be a pattern I could reverse engineer for my charity knitting.  Out of my peripheral vision, I could see the guy who'd been looking at me before still looking.  Only this time, he was practically glaring at me.  I glanced over, wondering who he was, then went back to studying the hat.

It passed out of my line of sight, and I went back to work.  The whole time, this other guy was lagging behind the other newbs, glaring at me.  He got all bowed up and actually started walking towards me at one point.  After they'd all gone on, one of my coworkers said, "That last guy was looking at you like you owe him some money!"  I know, right.  What was his problem?  I don't even know him.  Like I said, I always seem to attract the weirdos. 

The good news is, I won't have to deal with him any more.  As I was leaving work, I saw him with the group who will be working on B shift.  And please don't suggest I turn him in to HR.  Our HR department is about as useless as a milk bucket under a bull.  I've had a whole lot worse happen to me out there, but "Well, he said he didn't do it, so I'm closing the case." Yeah, we're pretty much on our own out there. 

Now on to better things.  My red Christmas cactus is blooming again.

When I was mowing yesterday, look!  I got some sun.

Oh, THERE'S my Irish DNA! 

Finally, I just had a Jehovah's Witness come to the door.  We discussed theology for a moment.  She thanked me for listening, and I wished her luck. 

And Jesus did a divine face palm at his wayward child...

My DNA Results

I got my DNA results back!  The thing said 6 - 8 weeks, but I got mine back in only two.  I was anxious to see what those results were, and I must say, I was kind of surprised.

The 37% Great Britain is no surprise, as most of my ancestors can be traced back to England.  OK, I did think that one would be a bit higher -- like maybe 75% or so.  The 15% Ireland/Scotland/Wales is no surprise, either, since I've found both Irish and Scottish ancestors, but not as many as English ones.

What is surprising is I only have 5% Scandinavian DNA.  I figured I would have more than just 5%, since my Swedish ancestor is the closest, generationally, that is.

DNA can be a tricky thing, though.  What DNA I ended up with all depends on which bits of my parents' DNA got passed down to me.  Even though Grandpa Peter hailed from Sweden, I've got a lot more ancestors and a lot more bits of DNA mixed up in me. 

Take a look at this one:  35% Europe West.  According to the website, Europe West is

Europe West

Primarily located in: Belgium, France, Germany, Netherlands, Switzerland, Luxembourg, Liechtenstein

I did find some French ancestry on my mother's side, but it was pretty far back.  That there DNA must have done some pretty serious generation hopping.  I'm going to have to do some more digging on her side, and try to find out where that came from.

The interesting thing is the low confidence regions.  Finland/Russia?  Haven't found anyone from there.  On the other hand, Vikings did settle parts of Russia, so there is that.  Europe South is a possibility, since it encompasses Italy and Greece.  My great-great grandfather (my Mammaw's grandfather) had the last name Gardino or Gardano.  That's a common Italian last name.  I haven't found him in any family trees, or any records of him at all, other than what my dad told me, and what I read in my Great Uncle Oscar's Bible. 

Now, about that European Jewish...I read some very interesting articles about how the Cherokee people don't have DNA markers common to Native peoples.  As you know (unless you've been living under a rock), those who call themselves "Native" Americans immigrated here from Eastern Asia.  Cherokees have DNA markers more in common with those from the Middle East, North Africa, and Jews.  So, it is possible I do have come Cherokee DNA. 

That's more than Elizabeth Warren can say. 
 

Changing the subject, I'm getting the feeling I'm going to regret telling Tomato Man he can plant his garden beside my shed.  He stopped by my house yesterday and the following conversation ensued:

TM:  Do my tomato plants look a little dry to you?

Me:  I don't know.

TM:  You haven't been out to look at them?  (Looking surprised that I hadn't.)

Me:  Not since that first day you put them in, no.

TM:  Oh.  (Looking as if I'd suddenly sprouted a second head or something.)  Do you have water over there?  (Meaning a spigot.)

Me:  No, it's in the back yard. 

TM:  Would you mind putting some water on them a couple of times a week for me?

Me:  That wasn't part of the deal.  The deal was that you would take care of them. 

TM:  Well, maybe it'll rain soon. 

Really, if I'd wanted to take care of his tomato plants, I'd have planted my own garden.  Taking care of his tomatoes wasn't part of the deal, and we'd settled that -- or so I thought-- the first time he asked if he could put them there.  Then again, him pestering me about the dumb things all summer wasn't part of the deal, either.

I know one thing, he won't be planting any on my property next year.

I'm So Excited!

There I was at work, just a working away, when a coworker approached me.

"Becky, you got a jusbaray I can borrow?"

Me:  "A what?"

Coworker:  "A jusbaray."

Me:  "A jusbaray?"

Coworker:  "Yeah."

Me:  "I don't know what that is."

Coworker:  "I need to take that a-loose"  *pointing to the large bolt on machine he was moving* "and I didn't bring one with me."

Me:  "Oh!  An adjustable wrench!"

Coworker:  "Yeah, that's what I said, a jusbaray." 

Me:  "No, I don't have one of those."  Or hope for the future.



Yesterday, my old supervisor stopped by to speak to me.  He asked how New Supervisor was doing in his new department.  I said, "I see him walking down the aisle from time to time, but he doesn't stop to talk to us like you used to." 

Old Supervisor said, "Maybe he's scared.  You should go speak to him first, then he'll talk to you." 

I said, "I'll just climb on top of that table there, and jump off and tackle him.  That ought to break the ice." 

Don't ask.  Even I don't know where I come up with these things.  Sleep deprivation.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

And now for something really exciting.  Look what came in the mail today!

Ancestry had them on sale for 40% off, so I ordered one.  It says not to eat or drink before spitting in the tube, so I'm just going to wait and do it first thing Saturday morning, since we aren't working.  (It also said not to smoke or chew gum, but I don't do those anyway.)  It'll be interesting to see if my DNA corroborates what I've been finding on the site.

Fool Me Twice

There I was at work Saturday, just a working away.  After a long, long work day, it was finally time to go home.  I got all the way out to my car when I realized I'd forgotten my cup.  "Eh, I'll get it Monday, " I thought to myself.  Then I thought better.  No, I'd better go back and get it, or Monday morning, I'll be tearing my hair out looking for it.  Because by then, I will have forgotten.  So I tromped all the way back across the parking lot and into the plant and got my cup, which was right where I'd left it.

There I was at work today, just a working away.  After a long, long work day, it was finally time to go home.  I got halfway across the parking lot when I thought, "My tool bag feels awfully light.  I'd better check and make sure all my tools are in it."  I started to swing said bag around to check for my tools, and that's when I realized my tool bag wasn't even on my shoulder.  "I'd better go back and get that," I thought to myself, "Or I won't have any tools left tomorrow!"  So, I tromped all the way back across the parking lot and into the plant and got my tool bag, which was right where I'd left it.

You know, they say forgetfulness is a sign of intelligence.  If that's true, I must be the smartest person on the planet.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Well, the powers that be have decided to scrap the whole brazer training program, and train new brazers on the job.  That's the way we used to do it in the Old Skool Way.  They'd pair a new brazer with an experienced one, and that's how we learned to braze.  I still remember when I learned.  The first thing I ever brazed was "line 3's next order and hurry up, they're waiting on it."

Friday, they brought me someone to train.  I thought she was doing OK, but her regular group leader said she's a trouble maker.  She can't wait to get that woman off her line.  I knew already that I didn't like her, even though there was nothing I could put my finger on.  I thought it was just me, because I can't get along with anyone except the ones who live in my computer.  Then, I saw what her group leader was talking about.  See, C shift gets a 10 minute break at 2:30.  A shift doesn't.  Well, someone had told the C shift people that were working on my line not to take their break.  Most of them just dealt with it, but this chick got so irate about getting "screwed out of her break" she went upstairs.

Now, for those of you who don't work there, "upstairs" is where all the production managers' offices are.  To go upstairs means you are going to complain to the boss about something.  To take someone upstairs means you are being dragged into the boss's office.  To go upstairs on someone means you're going to tattle to the boss on them.

Anyway, this chick went upstairs.  When she got back over to the line, she was still pitching such a fit I told her to go on and take a break.  I'd cover for her until she got back.  Even after that, she was still carrying on so much that her group leader, who was standing right there, said, "What are you still fussing for?  She said she'd cover for you!  Go take your &%^#* break!"  Even after she got back, she was still complaining about it.  I was good.  I kept my mouth shut, but I was thinking, "Gee, I've been working 12 hour shifts for years, and I've never gotten a break -- until C shift started getting them. 

I was hoping they wouldn't send her back to me Saturday, and they didn't.  They had her working on her regular line.  The one they sent me Saturday was one of those who just didn't want to listen to anything.  She acted like she already knew anything, so I just stepped back and let her have at it.

Then I had to step in and fix all the stuff she burned up.  But that's how it goes sometimes.

Enough about work...I keep saying I don't want to become that cranky old lady who complains about everything, but I'm finding that's exactly who I am these days.  I'll leave you with this.

I've always suspected I had some Scottish ancestry in my.  Now that my suspicions have been confirmed, this song means more to me than it ever did.



BTW, I looked up one of my clans:  Clan MacLeod.  Their clan motto is Hold Fast.  Pretty fitting for a sailor, don't you think?

The Best Friends

I have the best friends, I'm telling ya.  How did I get to be so lucky? 

See, a few weeks ago, someone in one of my Texas groups on Facebook posted this photo: 

Immediately, I put out a call to my Texas friends, and sure as shooting, one of them answered!

They arrived yesterday, but by the time I got done squeeing, it was too late to blog.  Well, too late for me, that is. 

Unfortunately, the little Texas tray was broken. 

I tried to glue it, but you can still tell where it was broken.  Maybe I can match the paint once the glue dries and it won't be so obvious.  The good news is, since Cyndye shipped it Priority Mail, it was insured.  I filed a claim, but haven't heard back yet.  Hopefully, they'll accept my claim and refund the value of the piece. 

Even so, if my Texas friend just happens -- not make a special trip or anything, but just happens to be back in Hobby Lobby someday, and just happens to see another tray, and just happens to pick it up and send it to me -- I'll be sure to reimburse you, plus postage this time. 

Now I just need to figure out where to hang them.

Lookit!  I think I found myself in a previous life!

That's about all I've got for today. 

I'd planned on a nice, long, interesting post, but I'm so sleepy I can't remember what it was.  Someday soon, the blog will return to its former glory. 


Soon, but not today.

Madhouse

It was a madhouse at work today, I tell ya.  A madhouse. 

See, the powers that be decided that A and C shift both needed to work at the same time.  Two full shifts.  Together.  In one plant.  There were so many people in there when I went to walk to the throne room, I felt like I needed Moses' staff so I could part the person sea.  It was noisy and chaotic, and I don't do well in noisy chaos.  But Supervisor told me, "Let's just have a good day, then you can enjoy your Saturday and Sunday, and have a nice Easter holiday." 

That's what I did.  I kept a positive attitude -- or tried to, at least --and soon it was time to go enjoy my two day weeken.....aaaaaaand here comes C shift production manager.  "Can you work tomorrow?" 

Of course, I said yes.  I can't turn down overtime, because you never know when they're going to say that's it, no more overtime. You have to get it while you can.  On the other hand, a little bird whispered to me not to make any plans for the next few Fridays, so they're not cutting it out completely just yet. 

The good news is, I don't have to be in until 5:00 AM on Saturdays, so I can sleep in!  Yay!

Even more Yay-ish, I got my tax refund today.  It wasn't as much as I used to get when I was Head of Household and had a dependent, but it was more than I got last year.  I promptly paid 2/3 of said refund on my credit card, and moved the other 1/3 into a separate savings account.  The outside of my house needs painting, and some rotten boards need to be replaced.  I'm saving up to have that done later this summer. 

And the Yay-est of all, Squeaky is looking so much better these days.  She seems more alert, less uncomfortable, and her appetite has really increased.  She seems to be gaining weight, and has started washing her face again.  She still needs a bath, but I'm going to wait until it's a little warmer for that.  I don't want her to get a chill after all she's been through the last few months.

Not so Yay-ish-- one of these dogs has gas, and it's pretty rank.  It must be Rylea, because Jesse is scared of his. 

Finally, I know you've been waiting with baited breath to find out what was wrong with Paw Paw's profile.  Did you figure it out? 

All right, all right, I won't keep you in suspense any more.  Look at the dates.  Trader John was born in 1735 and died in 1794.  The first permanent photograph wasn't taken until 1826.  Pictures of the quality and clarity of the one in the profile didn't come along until the mid to late 1800s.  The man in the photograph couldn't possibly be Paw Paw Benge. 

I started to unlink the photo from the profile, but I'm hesitant to do so-- simply because it's a fascinating picture, and I want to find out who that man is.  It's possible he may be a descendant of Trader John, or it could just be a random photo from the internet archives or something. 

There is a guy at work whose nickname for me is White Woman  -- which I am totally OK with, oh, by the way.  Only, now that I've found out I have some Cherokee ancestry, I'm going to have to tell him to call me Mostly White Woman.  Or maybe Off-White Woman.

Or White Woman Who Needs More Sleep.  That could be my Cherokee name. 

It fits. 

Still Rough

I woke up this morning hoping today would be a better day than yesterday.  It was, but barely.  Yesterday was chaos.  Complete and utter chaos.  It was one of those days when absolutely nothing went right.   Orders were short, parts were wrong, group leader was in a tizzy.  Chaos, I tell you.  Chaos. 

After my group leader had called my name for the 783,780,965th time, I told her, "You have exceeded your annual allotment for calling my name."  She said, "Annual allotment?  What's that?"  Sigh...After she'd called my name 492 more times, I told her she was already in arrears for next year.  And I had to explain what it meant to be in arrears...this is why I don't joke with my coworkers.  The jokes kind of fall flat when you have to explain them. 

Moving right along...

All my life, I've thought I was as white as white can be.  Scandanavian and North European ancestry was all I could lay claim to.  Finding out I have Cherokee in my lineage came as much of a surprise to me as to anyone.  It's been interesting exploring that side of my family.  Last night, I got quite a shock when this popped up in my app.

Wait, what?  Sequoyah?  THE Sequoyah?  Apparently so.  If the site is correct, he is my great great great great great uncle.  Or something like that.  That's almost as impressive as having Ragnar Lodbrok in my line. 

On the other hand, I found this: 

Can you spot what's wrong with it?  I'll give you a moment...

While you're thinking, I'm a bit confused.  If John Benge is my 6th great grandfather, and he is Sequoyah's father, how is Sequoyah my 6th great uncle?  Wouldn't that make him my 5th great uncle?  This stuff can be so confusing. 

Have you figured out what's wrong with Paw Paw's profile yet?  Go ahead and answer.  For those of you who are stumped, I'll reveal the answer in the next blog post. 

Well, the entire plant has to work tomorrow.  It's no skin off my nose, because I'd signed up for overtime anyway, but some people are pretty upset about it.  I supposed I would be too, if I'd already made plans to spend that day with family -- doing whatever. 

If I were the kind to make plans, or had family nearby, or had anything resembling a life of any kind...

And Away We Go

It is officially Spring, and I'm so ready to get out in the yard and plant stuff.  I'm still holding back on that, because of the threat of a late frost. 

I almost bought some moss roses yesterday while I was in the store, but didn't.  I looked all over the garden center yesterday for a chupacabra -- known to normal people as a calibrachoa -- to put into one of my hanging baskets, but found this one instead.  It's a brachiosaur. 

Known to normal people as a bacopa. 

I was going to plant it in this hanging basket, but when I got it down, I found something was already growing in it. 

The bad part is, I can't remember what I'd planted in here last, so I have no idea what that is.  I think I have another hanging basket out in the shop.  I just didn't go out there and get it.  Oh, and after I'd checked out and was leaving the store, I found the chupacabras -- by the front doors.  I still might get one after the heat kills off my violas.

I was going to get up and put my weed & feed down this morning, but decided not to because of the threat of impending storms.  Wouldn't you know it, not a drop of rain.  It got dark and windy, but no rain fell.  I'm going to spread it tomorrow, and with my luck, it'll be a torrential down pour all day.

BTW, you know you keep ridiculous hours when you wake up at 4:00 AM and think that is sleeping in. 

No further comment on that.

You will all be pleased to know that I got my taxes done, and my head did not explode. 

I spent most of the rest of the day playing around on Ancestry.com and Familysearch.org.  I found an even closer connection to Scotland.  Seems my 6th great grandfather was born there, and moved to America.  He began trading with the Cherokee Indians, and eventually married a Cherokee woman.  Their granddaughter is my great grandmother Carrie Dean, after whom my sister Deana is named. 

I've also found that I had an ancestor who fought in the American Revolution, one who fought in the War of 1812, ancestors who fought on both sides of the Civil War, and of course, my Pappaw fought in WWI, my dad in WWII and Korea. 

Really, I found more than one ancestor who fought in the Revolution, and one even served under George Washington himself.  I just have to remember where I saw that.

What I Really Wanted

This is the clock I really wanted when I ordered that station clock a couple of weeks ago.  It arrived today, and I got so excited to show you that I took the picture before I even took it out of the package.

It is gorgeous!  I think it will look just right in my living room.  I'm going to try to get it hung this weekend, since I will actually get a weekend this weekend.

Oh, yeah, as of today, A shift will no longer be allowed to work on Saturdays.  We will have to sign up for Fridays and Sundays.  When Supervisor told me, I said, "When does that start?"  He said, "Today."  I said, "Well, heck, if I'd known that, I'd have signed up for Sunday instead of Saturday." 
 
My friend has a membership on Ancestry.com.  After I'd posted about finding my first ancestor to come to America, we started talking about geneology and stuff.  She is really into it.  She got on Ancestry started a family tree for me.  However, when I tried to edit or even see the leaves, it said I had to have a membership.  I went ahead and signed up, thinking I'd just cancel it after my two week free trial.   Then I started checking out the ancestry hints.  Holy cow, the information they had!  I saw my grandfather's World War I draft card. There were census records, and marriage records.  I may trade my cable subscription for an Ancestry.com membership.  It's way more entertaining.  Not to mention cheaper.

BTW, I think I may have found an earlier ancestor.  I was following my maternal great grandmother's line on Family Search, and found some Cherokee Indians in there.  I'd always thought the Cherokee was on my dad's side, but apparently, that's something else I was mistaken about.  

Once I've cross referenced and confirmed on Ancestry, I'll post more about that.  

Ancestry

I'm in this Native Texans group on Facebook, and recently one member asked the question, "How far back can you trace your Texas roots?  I knew that the first of my ancestors to move to Texas was Abraham Winfree, so I started doing a little digging.  According to my dad's memoirs, Abraham was born in 1801 in Louisiana, which at the time would have still belonged to France.  This would have made him a French citizen.   I did a DuckDuckGo search and came up with this little gem.

(1801-1865) A native of Louisiana, Abraham Winfree first came to present Orange County in 1830. He purchased land by 1831, and in 1833 brought his wife Millie and their five children to Texas. Their homestead on Cow Bayou was near the Opelousas Trail (La Bahia Road), an important early Texas travel route. Winfree made his living as a rancher, cattle drover, shingle maker, and logger. The Winfree home was the site of an election in November 1836 in which Claiborne West was elected to represent local citizens in the Congress of the Republic of Texas. The following year, Winfree was appointed county commissioner for his precinct. Eventually, the community that grew up in this area became known as Winfree. Abraham Winfree died in 1865 and was buried on his homestead in the same family graveyard where his wife Millie was interred. He requested that no stone be placed on his grave, and it remains unmarked. The cemetery became known as Winfree No. 1 after another family graveyard was established in the area. Winfree descendants continue to reside in Orange County. The community which still bears his name is testimony to the life of this pioneer Texas settler.

The whole thing got me interested in my ancestry again, so I started doing a little more research.  I found a site called Geni.com, and by looking at other people's work, I found what I believe to be my first ancestor to come to America.  He was a man named William Winfrey (Winfree) who was born in England in 1625, and died in Jamestown Virginia in 1650.

I started to make my own account on that page, but quickly found out that even though it claims to be free, if you actually want to do anything on the site, you have to pay for it.  Then a friend reminded me of the site run by the LDS church called Family Search, which really is free.  I'd started an account on that site a few years ago, but hadn't been back to it in a while.  I logged in and to my delight, much more information had been added since I'd last visited.  I quickly found myself and the tree I'd started.

I saw the little arrows that mean there is more information there, so I started clicking.

I found Great Grandpa Joe, and Great-Great Grandpa Abraham, and Great-Great-Great Grandpa Philip. And I kept on clicking...

When I got to a dead end, I just went to the next arrow down, and kept on clicking.

And clicking,

Even though I'd long since passed any names I recognized, I was still enjoying seeing the trail of my ancestry as it went back through to England.

And suddenly, there it was -- the Scottish ancestry I was so sure of, but had had no proof

...until  now.

There he was, Alexander Alistair Crottach MacCloud.  I wondered why he was born in a castle, so I clicked some more,

And some more.

Wait, did that say 4th chief?  Yes, it did.  This was getting interesting, now.  I kept on clicking.

Soon I came to a second chief, then a first chief.

I kept on going.

Wait, did that say "king"?  Yep, I'm descended from a king.

I noticed the names were sounding more Norse, which is to be expected, since the Vikings settled Scotland.  This was getting interesting again.

Click...

Another king, and this time, one with a name I recognized, Harold Bluetooth.

Seriously???? Harold Bluetooth is my ancestor???  I was getting excited, now,

And that's when I saw it.

ARE YOU @#$%***  KIDDING ME???????  By this time, I was pounding the arm of my chair and scaring the dogs shouting words that ought not be coming out of any good Christian woman's mouth.

One more click, and there it was:

Do you see it?  Do you see it?  RAGNAR LODBROK IS MY ANCESTOR!!!!!!

The very first time I watched the TV show Vikings, I literally went up and hugged the TV, saying, "My people!  I've found my people!"  Now, if the site is accurate -- and it believe it probably is, since the Mormon church takes this stuff very seriously -- and this guy is really my ancestor, that gesture was more than just symbolic.  The really are my people.

See, I told you my ancestors were Vikings!

Then, just for grins, I started checking out my mother's side of the family.  There's not nearly as much in her tree, but I did find this little gem:

Aaand, I'm descended from Ragnar Lodbrok on her side, too, from one of Sigurd's other children.  He had a bunch of them.  Also, Rollo, the Viking of Normandy.  I didn't do all the screen shots of that, since this post is already getting a bit tedious.  But it was there.

And somewhere in there is some Irish ancestry as well.  I knew I had it in me.  I just didn't know where.