Diagrams, Diagrams, Diagrams….
How to figure out who in the hell people are in your family.
Let’s start with my little fucked up family, shall we?
Where shall I start?
We’ll start here at Ali B. and George B.
Ali B. and George B. were brothers who married sisters – Lucinda and Esther. I’ll put their children etc. directly below them so you can see the line of descent.
Ali B. ………………………………………. George B.
Rebecca……………………………………. Julie
Now, notice here that Rebecca and Julie are double first cousins. They are the daughters of brothers who married sisters.
Archie……………………………………….John Wilson
Drawn a line between Archie and Julie and Rebecca and JohnWilson. Put “double first cousin, once removed” on it. On the line between Archie and John Wilson put “double second cousins.”
My Mo………………………………………… Mattie
Draw a line between Archie and Mattie, put “Husband and wife” and “double second cousins, once removed” on it. Draw a line between John Wilson and My Mo and put “double second cousins, once removed” and “Grandfather/Granddaughter” on it. On the line between My Mo and Mattie put “Daughter/Mother” and “double third cousins”
Nanner………………………………………….. My Mo
Draw a line between Nanner and Mattie , put “Granddaughter/Grandmother” and “double third cousin, once removed”. Draw a line from My Mo to My Mo and put “Self” and “double third cousin, once removed.” The line between Nanner and My Mo will have “double fourth cousins” and “daughter/mother” on it.
Nate…………………………………………….. Nanner
Draw a line between Nate and My Mo, put “Grandson/Grandmother” and “double fourth cousins, once removed. The line between Nanner and Nanner will read “Self” and “double fourth cousin, once removed.” The line between Nanner and Nate will read “Son/Mother” and fifth cousins.
Even more confusing is the fact that not only were Rebecca and Julie double first cousins (and my great-grandmother and great-great grandmother, respectively), but they also married brothers, Jacob C. and George C.
Whooo boy!
Jacob C……………………………………………………..George C.
Brothers
(1st cousins)Archie……………………………………………………….John Wilson
This switches Archie and John Wilson from Second Cousins to First in this line.
(2nd cousins) My Mo…………………………………………………….Mattie
It also means that now Mattie and Archie are not just husband and wife, but also first cousins, once removed and My Mo and my Mama Mattie are now not just mother and daughter but also second cousins, making my Papa Archie and my great-grandfather John Wilson, her first cousins, once removed as well.
(3rd cousins) Nanner……………………………………………………My Mo
Now making Nanner not just her mother’s daughter but also her third cousin and her second cousin, once removed, as well as the second cousin, once removed of her own grandmother.
(4th cousins) Nate…………………………………………………………..Nanner
And making Nate not just my son, but also my third cousin, once removed and my fourth cousin as well as being the third cousin, once removed of his own grandmother.
Here’s another way to look at it.
Nanner………………………………………….Kevin (1st cousins)
Nate………………………………………………Lee (1st cousin, once removed to Nanner, 2nd cousin to Nate
Nate’s child…………………………………….Hunter (1st cousin, twice removed from Nanner, 2nd cousin, once removed to Nate, 3rd cousin to Nate’s child.)
Plus, you have to figure in that Kevin’s mother and my mother were sisters and therefore also cousins of each other, making Kevin and I not just 1st cousins but also 3rd cousins, once removed and double 4th cousins, once removed, which is the exact same relation I am to myself.
Does that clear things up?
Consanguinity
Not to be confused with serosanguinous, although both are about blood. Yes, it was once again time for the fam damily reunion. No, I didn’t get a date but I did get a number. Ba dum crash!
One of my cousins (second cousin – once removed, to be exact) was curious about our familial connections. She also wanted to know why she was once removed from me. “Because you stink.” Har, har, har. *Ahem* Her mother, the great-niece of my grandmother, and I, are second cousins. And what constitutes a second cousin? I just told you. Pay attention.
So, any children of the great niece of my grandmother, or the prodigy of first cousins, are second cousins, and any of their children are then my second cousins – once removed. However, the daughter of the great niece of my grandmother (or great grandniece) then becomes Nate’s third cousin and any of their prodigy will then be fourth cousins, but third cousins, once removed from Nate.
However, as not to confuse the poor child, since she was so curious, she is also my fourth cousin, once removed and my double fifth cousin, once removed. I am my own third cousin, once removed ( meaning my Mom is my third cousin and my double fourth cousin) which also means that I am also my double fourth cousin, once removed. Legally, yes, I can marry myself. We’re also distantly related through other branches.
Ha, and you thought I didn’t really have any branches on my family tree, didn’t you?
Oh, wait…
Wicked Wind
So, I settled in for a right good storm. Lights are out, windows open in the bedroom, fan running, listening.
Suddenly, it’s as though the fan has been turned up on “Catastrophic” as a gust of wind from nowhere buffets my house, rustling leaves and limbs, making dogs bark. I listen. . . for the sound of tree limbs cracking from next door, as they often do, but they don’t. I listen. . . to the Venetian blinds alternating banging and rattling as they are lifted away and then sucked against the panes as the wind breathes inside my house. I listen. . . for thunder . . . I watch . . . for lightening. . . *tick* *tick* *bang* *rattle* *rustle* *breath in* *breath out* *tock*
I fall asleep, certain in my mind that the approaching rain and lightening and thunder will wake me.
Certain that droplets of water from the window above my head will wake me.
Nothing wakes me but the radio playing at 6:00 a.m.
I ask the lady at the convenience store about the storm. She said, “Freaky wind, sounded like a tornado.”
“No lightening? No thunder?”
“Nope, just a wicked wind.”
It stormed today. I wouldn’t describe it as foreplay, more like premature ejaculation. It got off way too soon.
Story of my life.
The yo-yo is down today. Always full of big dreams, hopes, and wishes, full of promise and then… I get out of bed. Blogging for two years tomorrow. Happy Blogiversary to me.
Yo-Yo
Brought to you by the letter, “F.”
Life is like a yo-yo, sometimes you’re up and sometimes you’re down, the trick is to keep moving.
Navy boy, well, I got the definite, “Stay away from me freak” vibe. You win some, you lose some.
It’s suddenly hot and massive thunderstorms are working their way here from the Ohio Valley. Did I tell ya’ll about the last thunderstorm? Guess not since you all have that, “what the fuck is she talking about” look on your faces.
Forecasts all day foretelling the foreboding influx of high winds, tornadoes, hail, and flash flooding. I witnessed the fantastic formation of clouds flying across the night sky with flashes of lightning within their freakish flummoxing fabrications, as though I were watching a film in fast forward.
The first raindrops hit my face forcing me to seek shelter under my front porch. Still following the forward path of the storm, almost certain it would forsake my feelings and fizzle. It knew my feelings lay fallow. It knew I needed cleansed and yet it faltered, following a winding course, overflowing on others as it left me parched and fevered.
I moved inside and fastened my eyes on the horizon from my window, flattened by the Goddess’s refusal to allow me to drink from her fountain as the clouds floated away.
“That was just foreplay,” I said.
An eye-frying flash of lightening streaked down and thunder fell violently on my head and shoulders as the lights flickered out, leaving me frozen, freaked, and still fallow.
Don’t fuck with the Goddess.
What Does Elastic Do?
Well, it’s elastic, what do you think it does? It bounces back! After extolling my woes to you all and my co-workers today, I feel much better. Especially since my new co-worker is a an ex-Navy man, still walks like a Navy man, and still has that tight Navy ass. Too bad he’s still in love with his ex-wife.
Onward and upward.
Still have been a little weepy, but nothing like yesterday.
AZ saw the picture I posted yesterday and called me a lush. Whaaaa? I resemble that remark!
Oh, wait…
Heh. He just wishes he could have been there. Can you imagine what I could have done to him in that mood? Not my fault he wasn’t there.
Been looking at job listings again. This time for in house paralegal gigs with the big dogs. Woof! The only openings in TX oil companies is Shell. I’ll sell my soul. Not a problem. Plus they have offices in Germany, well, most oil companies do, but maybe my foreign language skills will come in handy in some way eventually. It wouldn’t hurt to apply.
Regardless, life has GOT to change around this berg.
Elastigirl Hits Rock Bottom
I think of myself as highly resilient but today I have not been very resilient. I’ve been weepy.
Vin (da Neighbor) and I had made plans to have a beer Saturday night. He flaked out on me.
One of our city workers had stopped by next door and asked me out for coffee. He seemed a little, well, a little “different.” But different is good sometimes.
Very nice guy. By the middle of coffee and danish (which I had to pay for since he had gone out the night before and tied a big one on and couldn’t quite comprehend why he didn’t have $5.15 left out of $50.00) I had determined that I’d rather watch paint flake.
I tried really hard to be open but since he’s called me four times since yesterday and one of those times caused me to miss my verification call from PayPal, once again delaying my account (this was a whole 15 minutes after our coffee meeting), I’m not much impressed. Nice guy, just not the guy for me.
For some reason though, this has bummed me out. Or maybe it’s just the mood I went to bed in after Vin dissed me and I watched two or three episodes of “Body of Evidence” and “American Justice” about murder and mayhem.
Perhaps it is also the residual effect of being in TX. Being in TX is good for me. My friends show me what marriage is really supposed to be like. Not perfect, but real people facing everyday life and its challenges and joys together. It’s a good reminder that marriage is not an assignment to purgatory. But then I come home and eventually I’m reminded that I’m still sitting on my porch alone.
Also given the fact that AZ, who things were looking up with, suddenly decided things would be “all business” between us since our last porch time, add the hellacious week of dealing with Jeff and Nate, and yeah, I’m feeling a bit lonely and a might weepy.
I’ve begun wondering if I’m doing something wrong or something is just wrong with me.
AZ did call me out of the blue this evening but he was getting ready to go into a restaurant where it was impossible to hear each other. He also made a comment about the folks he had just met about selling their house or more specifically that you could tell the woman had “let herself go,” referencing her long brown/gray hair hanging to her waist, nothing like the perky sprite pictured in their wedding portrait. I said something, referencing the fact that I don’t get all macked out all the time either.
And I don’t. I much more comfortable in a pair of jeans, much more comfortable without having to remember not to rub my eyes because it will smear my mascara, much more comfortable not wearing a bra, and frankly, when you go to bed with me, you wake up with me. I look exactly the same.
*Sigh* That’s what’s wrong with me. I’m me.
And exactly, what is wrong with that?
Yeah, maybe I could do something with the hair.
End of Watch
Kristin reminded me that it is National Law Enforcement Week. It’s funny, but I’ve been thinking of a guy I went to college with. He and I were in several classes together and the honor society. I remember him well. He was a nice looking man, still wore his hair in a semi-mullet at the time. He had an easy smile and always wore a Volunteer Fire Department shirt. He was the Secretary/Treasurer when I was Vice-President of our honor society chapter.
Level-headed and dedicated good ole boy. That was Bill Giacomo. He worked hard in college. He wasn’t outgoing but he wasn’t shy either, more of a watcher. He called it like he saw it. I liked that about him.
He’s been on my mind so much lately. I can still see his face, I can still see his smile.
September 11th in successive years… 1999, I was in Detroit with T-Bird as she gave birth – 2001, watching in horror as America was attacked, but 2000, that was the year we lost Bill.
He was processing a DUI and turned to answer the phone as he was alone in the station. The suspect pulled a .22 caliber handgun from his boot, which had obviously been overlooked in the search, and he shot Bill in the head and left him to die. Over a damn DUI. Sixteen agencies joined in the search for this cop killer. They found him and his name fades out of memory to me.
But Bill has never faded. Bill will never fade. No one will ever know why Bill didn’t find the gun in that suspect’s boot but the way he pleaded for his life is forever captured on videotape. Over a damn DUI.
Image borrowed without permission from “Officer Down Memorial Page.” I know, breaking the law to honor a fallen officer. Sorry, Bill.
Who Stole My White Picket Fence World?
Jeff called this morning wanting to know if I was mad at him for something. Uh, yeah!
I’m not going to get into it other than to say he attempted to justify how he treated me by laying, what he sees to be, various sins at my feet. His big one was, “Well, what would you have done? What would you have said? You would have done the same thing.”
The truth is, I wouldn’t have. I know I wouldn’t have because if I were going to drop his level, I would have done it a long time ago, and I have much more ammunition. I reap no satisfaction nor reward for throwing shit back on people. I feel no superiority by making someone feel inferior. I often hold my tongue because having a battle of the wits with someone who is stupid and blind is inherently unfair.
I thought all of this over as I mowed the grass with vengeance (AJ would be so proud!). Who stole my white picket fence world? What great karma scheme have I disrupted to be subjected to this horror of a man? And why, Holy Hera, did I ever fuck him? I can only answer the last one. I was sick. Psychologically ill. My Mom says, “I know you had to have loved him at one time.”
“It was a very sick love, Mother.”
However, the sweet smell of cut grass and a few blisters later, I am ready to expound upon why, oh why, I have no white picket fence.
Face it, folks. There are things that other people have gone through that make the rest of us stand back and go, “Holy Hera! How did they survive that? How do they go on?” In the big scheme of things, I have it relatively easy.
“That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.” After all the shit, shite, and shinola, I’m still breathing. I may be breathing fire, but I’m still breathing.
The Lord and Lady will not heap more on me than I can handle. My back is aching and knee hurts, but I have not buckled, nor will I. If anything, this forces me to examine the exact reasons for my fear of Jeff and of standing up for myself, although I have to say, it wasn’t that difficult this morning. It’s simple really. He knows my greatest weaknesses. My love for Nate, being my greatest, but he forgets that my love for Nate is also my greatest source of strength. Two of my other weaknesses are my housekeeping skills and my capability to forgive.
So, this weekend will be whirlwind cleaning. Once the house is in order, I’ll be on solid ground. I know I take good care of my son. Check. House in order. Check. Forgiveness. Bah hum bug! I’m all for forgiveness and usually I give it freely but sometimes it has to be earned.
By the way, did I tell you all about the new neighbor at the end of the block? Four words, ladies. Looks. Like. Vin. Diesel. And asked me over for a beer. Eeep! Who needs white picket when you got chain mail link?
Rewind
Friday – Jeff calls me three times. First time, wants to know if I called and woke him up and now he’s up and wants to talk. Too bad, I’m the phone with T-Bird. Calls again, wants to know if I’m talking about him to T-Bird. Uh, no, but I will now. Third time, phone rings at 11:28 p.m. I stare at it until it stops ringing.
Monday – Jeff calls first thing in the morning. I am not a morning person. Nate is not a morning person. Nate has standardized testing. Jeff says “blah, blah, blah, he shouldn’t be jerked up out of bed, blah, blah.” I tell him Nate is awakening, Nate will be fine. He’s rude. I’m rude. We hang up.
Calls me again while I’m at work. Wants to know what all Nate needs to finish his assignments. Gets mad when I can’t recall out of the blue every single, solitary detail after burying my head in the oil problem in KY for five hours.
Calls me again to ask me if Nate doesn’t do anything after he leaves his house. If I don’t make him do his homework. I can’t get him out of bed so he can turn his homework in. I don’t do this and I don’t do that. I ask him what his fucking problem is. Nate has seven missed assignments, two of which MUST be done at school and are never assigned as homework. So, it is automatically MY fault that this work is missing or not done. I ask him to clarify which assignments are missing. He responds that he is driving down the highway going 50 mph and can’t look. I remind him that I cannot possibly know unless I know exactly what is missing and perhaps he should look that up.
I’m livid. I pick T-Bird up from work and yell for the next 30 minutes. I’m so mad I’m shaking. I’m crying. I enter Jeff’s with murder in my heart. Jeff is kicked back and before he can say anything (in front of his girlfriend and Nate) I jerk up the list of missing assignments and Nate’s assignment book. NOT ONE ASSIGNMENT ON THE MISSING LIST WAS LISTED IN NATE’S ASSIGNMENT BOOK. NOT. ONE.
NOT. ONE.
I turn the look of death upon Jeff who says, “Now, I’ve already gotten on to him about not writing his assignments down and you shouldn’t say anything to him.”
I twist the death knife and say (with piss, vinegar, and venom): “Oh, I think I have a right to say something to my own son and I damn straight will.” In other words, motherfucker, piss the fuck off.
Seems strange that the LAST FOUR YEARS, before Jeff decided to be “Father of the Fucking Year,” that Nate got to school, Mom went to the meetings, Mom took him to the doctor’s appointments, Nate did his work, he even made honor roll on occasion. Not much has fucking changed, except, Daddio is now in the picture and Nate is barely scraping by. Let’s see if we can find a correlation… do you? Do you see a correlation? Because I see a correlation.
And of course, Jeff likes to call in the morning when it’s our worst time of day, you know, to give that “special pep talk” and he likes to call in the evenings, you know, to make sure that Nate is doing his homework because I’m such a lazy fucking bitch that I couldn’t possibly give up MY TIME to make sure that it gets done. So, guess who DIDN’T CALL Monday night? And guess who DIDN’T CALL this morning?
*Ding* *Ding* *Ding* Did you say, “Jeff?” Because if you said “Jeff,” you would have been right. We all win. He did call this evening to say he found Nate’s reading workbook at his house and he would drop it off at school tomorrow. I said, “Fine.”
As for Nate, well, Nate has also been tiptoeing around da Mama because Mama told his sorry rear-end that if he thought it was bad when Daddio climbed up inside his ass when he did something wrong, then imagine that times two when Daddio climbed up inside my ass for some alleged wrong doing concerning him (Nate). I reminded Nate that what he does affects other people, whether the individual was right or wrong in doing so, his actions affect other people and I’m not taking anymore shit because he didn’t feel like writing down his Science assignment.
As for Jeff, he can stew in my silence. He hates it when I don’t speak to him. He can keep on hating. He still owes me a big fat fucking apology. Right now though, he could lay prostrate at my feet on fire and I wouldn’t piss on him.
Annie
I have to post some other pics from this weekend since you didn’t get to see my favorite girl’s face. Annie and I have an understanding. I love her and she loves me. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas when she was 17 months old. Before that it had been the Christmas before, if I’m not mistaken. Even so, I inadvertently woke her from her nap, which was a good thing, since she was hungry as a little bear, as witnessed by her attempting to put on her own bib and then banging on the high chair.
When we got ready to go up to the pond for fishing, she refused to get on the four-wheeler to ride with daddy. She just hates loud noises. Since my parents had a prior engagement, Aunt Nanner rescued her and we made the long walk (okay, I carried her some) up to the pond. We mooed at the cows and I tried to teach her to say, “Gobble, gobble, gobble.” She gave it a good try and had to dress the part in my brother’s camo hat.
Eventually, I brought her home and gave her a bath, which I haven’t done for many, many years and forgot how slippery little ones are. I also force fed her some meds but she soon forgave me while I fed her strawberries and macaroni and cheese.
She acts as though she’s known me her entire life, and not just small snippets of time. We just have an understanding. I love her and she loves me.
Anything Goes 