It’s official: I’m going to have a grand niece.
David and Sheba are having a girl! Crazy. I learned this when David posted the news on Facebook and told The General when I came home. “I was kinda hoping for a boy, ” I said. “Why?” asked The General. “Keep the line going, even though it skipped a generation (David is the son of The General’s sister), although it’s not “pure” our last name, it’s still a line.” “And that’s important to you?” he retorted. “Of course! I’m a genealogist!” I exclaimed. I walked out of the room before we could get into a discussion – The General’s name dies with him on his branch. “It’s archaic!” came his voice from the next room.
But it got me to thinking: My family name is dying out on my mother’s side. My father’s side is alive and well and will continue on and on. The maternal line I was tracing, I realized, dead ends with all the relatives I’ve found thus far. And by dead ends, I mean daughters. Sure, my alleles are in a good portion of the white population of Detroit, but they’re lost by name. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s a 50/50 chance and my line just wasn’t to be. But with 5 sons who reached sexual maturity, there’s got to be a pure line. I’ve got 3 more leads, I hope I find something. A direct decedent of Grandpa August on my line!
It’s too bad we’re not Jewish: their lines are traced by mom. Why? Cuz you can prove yo mamma easier than you can prove yo papa.
Speaking of lines – tan lines to be exact – I bought a surfing bikini online. I found an ad for it on Facebook. I never click on ads, but this one called. I’m bringing back the LBB this year! I got the glam top (one word: hotttttt) and the hipster bottoms, an internet search assured me hipster bottoms are great for pear shapes like myself. After a horrendous night at that coal mine that pays my mortgage, it was a welcomed surprise. A surfing bikini is an athletic tight fitting suit: with my huge butt and non-existent boobs, I’m a target for ocean-induced flashing with regular suits. The top fits perfect, as if it was custom made for me. The bottoms? Well, I got the largest size they offer. I thought it fit okay, but The General thought otherwise. “You need the next size up,” he said. “You’re falling out of it.” “There is no next size up, ” I sighed. Apparently, surfers are jockeys of the sea and quite small compared to my 5’7 medium frame/large ass.” So needless to say, I’m returning it. I’m not sure if I’ll get a different style – like the one that ties, so I can adjust the butt:suit ratio – or if I’ll take The General’s advice and wear board shorts for the rest of my born days. This is totally counterproductive to getting my bikini line lazered. I’m keeping the top. I look like I have boobs. And it won’t roll up or move. Maybe, just maybe, this will be my year where I won’t break any public decency laws at the beach (well………………maybe not, heheheh).
Lines in the sand for sure.
