Dog Walks and Family History

Thursdays always seem like a long day. It's not like I do a lot of physical work; it's just that I'm used to being home most of the day with the dogs, doing chores and writing (or at least pretending to be busy). And it's not even that I get up any earlier on Thursdays than any other day except Sunday.

I was up at 7(ish...) to do my devotions and start getting ready before I had to get Sasha up. I try (not very hard, usually) to get her out of bed early on Thursdays so she has a chance to run around and eat before it's back in the crate for 6 hours.

Of course, today she decided she didn't want to eat. She's either sick or going through some sort of reverse growth spurt. I don't know. Also, she picks up on the ritual we all go through before we leave the house and was repeatedly putting herself in her crate and waiting for us to leave.

So she went to her crate without breakfast. Not my problem.

We dropped the girls off at co-op, and then Mom and I headed out to a city about 15 minutes from there to do some errands. Normally we sit at the church until it's time for the classes we teach; I'm glad I could skip that today.

Back to the church for a little sitting around and chatting until physical science. We had an experiment involving a bottle rocket, but it failed. Twice. I was sad.

Then off to routes. Wonder of wonders, the papers were already printed and waiting for us! At 12! Still, we weren't done until around 3. Then we got the girls and headed home.

The dogs were acting antsy, so I decided to take them on a walk. Before his head harness, we had a regular harness for Hershey that somewhat kept him from pulling. I decided to use it on Sasha, since it was too small for Hershey and he needed the head harness.

It was just a quick trot around the park, but man was it tiresome. Both dogs were tugging to be in the lead. The harness kind of worked for Sasha (she wasn't choking and gasping for breath, and she didn't spend half the time rolling around on the ground trying to get something off her nose) but she really needs to be taught to heel and let me lead. Maybe with some practice....

Then I sat down to check stuff on the computer and write this post. However, I got distracted when I saw ancestry.com was offering free viewing of the 1930 census! Excitement ensued, and I started searching relatives.

I learned that I am 1/8 Danish. Dad's always talked about how we had Danish in us, but I never learned which ancestor(s) were Danish. Now I know. My great-grandpa's wife was born in Denmark. That made my youngest sister happy. (She's taking German at the co-op.) Now to find the Native Americans somewhere in the family tree....

Christmas party, Christmas trees, Christmas time...but no snow.

Hershey is sitting proudly in his chair by the window, watching the world come to life. Sasha's restless in her crate, moaning and grunting because, for once, Hershey is out of the girls' room before 9 and she can't be up to "play" with him.

It's a nice change to the morning routine, if you ask me.

For the last...probably at least the last month, maybe more, I've had my alarm set for 7. I don't think I've actually been up by 7 more than 5 weekdays in the past month. I keep hitting snooze, and then that's deactivated I reset the alarm a couple times. (Usually my excuse is that I'm in the middle of a good - or at least interesting - dream and want to see how it ends. But after a few hours of being awake, I wonder how I could think it was that interesting.)

Sure, sometimes I climb out of bed around 7, but that's only to take Sasha outside so she'll sleep a little longer.

Today I got up to take Sasha out, as usual. When I put her back to bed, I went to the girls' room to get my computer cord, thinking I might make an effort to stay awake. (I really should clean my room, but that's beside the point.)

Hershey was wide awake and standing by the door expectantly: not normal for him. Usually he's curled up as tightly as possible on one of the beds and refuses to move.

I got the cord and decided to let Hershey out, thinking he might just be thirsty and would go back to bed after I gave him some water. He downed nearly a gallon of water, then asked to go out. After that, he wouldn't go back to the girls' room but wandered into the living room.

Sasha wasn't happy, and waited for me to let her out. When I didn't, she barked a few times to remind me she was there.

I went upstairs to get dressed and grab my phone. When I came back, Hershey was gone. No where in the kitchen, living room, bathroom, or girls' room. I briefly wondered if he'd gone stealth mode and sneaked past me on the stairs and was hiding in Wes's room, but quickly dismissed that idea. Hershey can't be quiet about anything.

Then I remembered Mom's light had been on. Sure enough, he had pushed open her door and was curled up on the bed. She didn't let him stay for long.

So I gave him his medicine (buried in a heel of bread slathered in peanut butter so he couldn't pick it out like he usually does) and sat down to check a few of the games I had downloaded to my phone yesterday. Mom came out and cleared off Hershey's chair, opened the curtain, and invited him to hop up. He stared outside for a while, but now he's snoozing. And Sasha's quiet, too.

And yes, I said all that both because I wanted to change style a little and because I don't have much else to say. Even living in a family with comparatively eventful lives, sometimes those lives can feel pretty unremarkable.

I'm trying to remember everything that's happened since my last post.

Oh. Christmas party. It was fun. I'm glad we girls got the chance to get dressed up, and we ate something besides paste or taco shell-wrapped Mexican food. It was a big change from last year, when we all collapsed on the floor in jeans and colorful socks and drank dangerously bright Kool Aid and messy enchiladas.

This time, we pretty much sat around. After all of the pictures were taken, that is. (There were a grand total of 2 Sr. High guys there without girlfriends, and at least a dozen girls, so the youth pastor's wife suggested the girls pair up for pictures and the guys be in every one. Some girls were not in favor of this plan, but we did it.) I know this group of Sr. Highers typically does just sit around at activities, but usually we can lounge or sit on each other and throw pillows or something.

Anyway. Even gift time was quiet. I started out with a cool stationary set (stolen, because I was 23 out of 30 people and there weren't any exciting-looking gifts still wrapped) but that got taken and I ended up with a set of juggling balls. I could have had the pancake maker (a tube with a special tip on the end, which you fill with pancake batter and can use to make neat designs) but the girl who had it wanted to keep it and I'm nice like that.

And yes, my hair stayed curly the whole time. I was happy. And now I have a new technic for styling my hair. Yay me!

After that....

Well, on Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day ancestry.com offered free viewing of their WWII records, so I went and searched for a bunch of my relatives. I couldn't find my dad's dad anywhere, which is really strange, but I did find his dad, who enlisted when he was 63!

Searching those records prompted me to finally transfer the rest of the information from the family tree booklet I have onto the one I started online. It's done at last! Now whenever I decide to use the free 2 week trial of ancestry.com I can start filling in the past 40 years.

I can't really think of much else. Co-op and Institute are out for Christmas break. I failed terribly at memorizing Ephesians, so I'll have to deal with it and pay for the classes and look for a job (or because a best selling author in the next 6 months).

Last night we got our tree. We got a real tree last year, too, our artificial one finally so old and worn that we got rid of it.

It was cool and really windy last night, so we weren't in the mood for browsing every tree in the place. Mom wanted a tall, slim tree, but we couldn't see any of those. Heather found one she liked and was determined to have it, whining anyone else even looked at something different. "Mine doesn't cost as much as yours does" and "Mine's prettier than that one". Eventually we gave in and let her have her tree.

Then, courtesy of some nice route customers, we went to Logan's, and I made a note to never get Balsamic vinaigrette for a salad ever again. Sweet dressing on salad = yuck.

I can't believe we have 9 days until Christmas! Since our first snowfall, we haven't had anything. It's been gray and rainy this week. We got a dusting of snow last night, but it didn't stick. Tomorrow Mom's taking us girls shopping, so maybe a few hours pushing my way through a crowded mall to the sound of Christmas music will get me in the spirit. (I doubt it, but we'll see.)

Future World Traveler...and her dog

One very important detail was far from my mind when I picked that puppy out of the back of that truck and brought her home: the future.

Seriously. What have I moaned and groaned and puzzled over for the last couple of years? What I want to be when I grow up. When I started to figure it out, I decided a fair amount of world travel was likely to be involved. While the idea is romantic in a way, world travel with a dog can get confusing and difficult.

As weird as it may be, I didn't want a puppy for the sake of having a puppy. If I could skip the stage where it's all fluffy and bouncy and curious and hyper, I honestly would. I want a dog: a steadfast companion who follows me gladly with tail wagging, catching a ball in the park and curling up beside me in bed while I read and making people ooo and ahh over how pretty and well-behaved it is. But to get that, you have to survive the puppy stage so you can make sure the little (demonic) fur ball is learning the way they need to, looking to you from the start as their friend, and immediately understanding the rules. (Like the fact that, hard as it is to believe, not everything [including me] is edible, and not every creature will bow in submission before you, and when I say 'come' I honestly want you to come. Like, today.)

Sorry for that pretty much pointless rant. As usual, it's easier to write than it is to say, and as yet all attempts to explain it have failed. Mostly because I don't have enough patience. So I skip the face-to-face vent and bring it to you instead. :) Also, it's been "one of those days" (read: months) and my brain is being a bit slow sorting through the jumble of thoughts rolling around in my head, and then I'm too lazy to see if they actually are coherent when they come out.

So, moving on.

The first few days after getting Sasha, I suffered the teary-eyed remorse while I pondered how this one little (rather expensive) choice had altered all the plans I was starting to form.

Then I got over it and decided I may have stumbled upon the thing that would make my adventures even more amazing. It didn't change my daydreams; only added another layer of depth and color to them.

So one minute I'm picturing myself standing on those seaside cliffs in Ireland or sitting on the grassy slopes of a Scottish countryside or walking down a country road in England. And then there's one little addition to the picture: a dog.

How cool is that? Yeah, it makes me happy just thinking about it.

Of course, then I google "world travel with a dog" and reality throws me a line, tells me to hang on, and tries to haul me back down to earth. Turns out now isn't quite the time to start worrying about how all this will work out. I have years, in fact, because before the world traveling can commence, there's the little issue of monetary means to deal with.

Keep your life line, Reality. Don't you know I just have to get one of my books published, become a famous author, and fund my way around the world?

And then I remember: I haven't really written in a year.

I know I've said it before, but I'll reiterate: this whole growing up thing can certainly be a messy business. There are so many other variables to factor in that alter everything, which is frustrating for a person like me who likes to know the where and when and how of it right now.

Sigh.

If that didn't make much (or any) sense to you, it's okay. I'm probably as much or more confused as you.

Along the same lines as world travel and the future is my dream of finally uncovering the truth about the elusive and confusing history of Robert Royce. Compiling the family tree, I'm never sure what to enter about Robert or those in the generations immediately before and after him. Pretty much no one agrees on the name of his wife, the number and names of his children, where he was born, or even when he was born. (Seriously, between 1603-6 and 1562 are very different.)

At first, I planned to go to Somersetshire, England and dig for records there, but some dispute that Robert didn't even live there or, if he did, it wasn't for long.

These are the times when I wish I could time travel. I'd find Robert Royce and at least figure out where to start searching for information. I'd learn the names of his kids, his wife's maiden name, his birthdate. How amazing would it be to meet an ancestor who lived four centuries ago? Who honestly thinks about what will happen when they're dead and a few generations have passed and people start wanting to know their family history? I bet Robert never considered he would cause so much trouble to his distant descendants.

As it is, I think my starting point will have to be where he was buried in Connecticut, relying on no information but what I learn for myself. I know I can take a dog there without too much fuss.

Once I finally figure out the truth about his life (and I intend to), I'll be able to go back further and figure out how close my family comes to royalty. I'd be happy with a duke!