I will likely keep this one a wee breif, as I am so tired that if someone were to touch me, I'd likely keel right over.

Walked about a mile and a half with a bag of dirty laundry. Left about 5 am---the stars in the pre-dawn sky were gorgeous! So close, it seemed, you could almost reach right out and touch them.

Before I went to the laundromat, I stopped at the only place open at 6am--McDonald's..Yech! Double yech, because the Lake George, NY McDonald's is very literally one of the worst on the entire eastern U.S. seaboard---lousy service with a bad attitude, and food that makes you quite ill--as I could attest to later on that morning---in the cold, wet woods (turns out the laundromat has no public loo). All I had was a small Coke and a breakfast sandwich...this chain has a bad rep of making people sick--even some of the employees, two of whom also happen to work with me,at the motel. I would have eaten some corn flakes or something, before leaving home, but I can't eat breakfast sometimes when I first wake up, sometimes I don't even feel like my tea. Anyhow, so I took the chance at the local Mickey-dee's, like a total idiot. Total being the watchword here.

So, get finished with the laundry and walk up to a small store nearby to buy a cheap dozen eggs to take home with me later. The town's running trolley buses on Sat. and Sun. 'till next week--waited over 45 minutes! One dollar to go a half-mile and wait 50 minutes for the privilege! Don't I just love public transport in America--North country transport is run by bueracratic chimps with tiny little brains. The signs at the bus stops clearly state that a trolley will be by "every 20 minutes." Ha! What wild optimist dreamed that one up? Well, at least I didn't have to carry the laundry that extra half-mile, ey?

And, as a bonus, on my way to the bus stop, I passed by a yard sale--and found a slightly used--but not abused--pair of leather Nike hiking boots--in my size. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Only around 50P (one dollar)...did I mention, yeah! ( Estatically tries them on in the living room--they fit! Boogies to "Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight...") I've been longing for a pair of decent hiking boots for ages. Haven't bought new shoes in over 2 years--and got a used pair of Sketchers boots--sort of like a hiking boot, but not the real deal--at a used clothing store last fall. I haven't had anything like a decent shoe in such a long time, my feet may go into shock! And, don't they look just great? Oh yes, they are "me." (Dances around my office) "get down tonight, get down tonight..."

Anyway....moving on,

I've been trying to make heads or tails of my late mum's genealogy papers---ouch! What a mess this is going to be! Picture this: hundreds and hundreds of pages of handwritten notes and note cards..not a single one in any kind of order. Over 20 years of genealogy notes.

My mother's family has been here in the states for over 300 years....that's a lotta' notes, and add to that notes for Ireland, England, Netherlands, and Germany...whoa...big task facing me here...I am honestly a bit daunted...and it takes a lot to daunt me, these days, let me tell you.

I used to be an ametuer historian. (Excuse the lousy spelling and grammar--gave up editing my blogs ages ago.) So, I was a bit of local historian, so I'm used to unraveling paperwork and trying to make connections...but this, this is really, really going to be hard...doubly so, as mum's no longer here for me to ask, "so, who is so and so?"

I never was hugely into the genealogy, not like she was, but it has it's moments. We had someone at Jamestown Settlement, the Mayflower, the first person to settle in Wayne County, NY (in the western part of the state) was a direct ancestor of mine. I'm directly decended from a state govenor and from the American novelest, James Fennimore Cooper (Last of the Mohicans, Drums Along the Mowhawk, etc)...both of whom have towns named for them. I'm also a decendant of 19th century American landscape artist, Thomas Cole. That's one of his paintings, below:

Another decendant from that same branch of mum's family--albeit a very, very distant one--was shipwrecked while serving on a whaler and died--and his mates had him for teatime. Yes, one of my ancestors was eaten. No, really. It's a matter of public record.

But mum found out some facinating stuff. Like for instance, my mum never lived in the village I grew up in, until she married my dad in 1950. Yet, she found out that her dad, who was from Hudson--a good 45 miles downriver from my hometown--when young,(1900's) had worked and lived just a short distance from the very street where I grew up on! Virtually within sight--from a long distance--from the house I grew up in. And she never knew. I later went to the village hall and looked up the house address--long gone. But I went into the woodlot that stands there now, and actually found the foundation wall of the house. I kind of thought that was sort of neat.

And, when I left common school to go on to senior high school, I could have chosen (due to the size of our village, students had to be bussed out to other cities and towns to finish the last four years) from 4 or 5 different high shcools...I choose one way out in the country--a 45 minute bus ride away. Turns out, the town where my high school was--just a little hamlet--was where some of my ancestors had lived 200 years before--and their farm was where my shcool's tennis court now stands! I didn't find that out until after I'd graduated in '79, but still...I think that's pretty interesting.

She found out that her family was very influetial and quite well-to-do..even hobnobbing with U.S. presidents and such. One was even a personal friend of Arron Burr.

She looked up what some of my later ancestor's did and where they had lived---blacksmith, canal boatman, butcher, pressman...too many depressions in the 19th century and family deaths--the money just disapeared.

Some of my acestors fought..the anti-rent wars against the last patroon (dutch lords) system in America. One was with Morgan's rifelmen at the battles of Saratoga. One was a tory--who got converted to a patriot by a pitchfork in a very tender spot, whilst he was hiding from his angry neighbours in the hayloft.

But, there's a few mysteries that have yet to be solved. Like the mysterous gravestone in one of the family plots in Albany Rural Cemetery...it's the only time the name appears in the family line. "McLeod." Mum never could get the straight of it. She was stumped. She never could figure out this person is an actual relative, or was a family friend or what. No information, other than what was on the card in the cemetery office, as to who this McLeod person--I think it was a woman--might be.

So, the mystery remains unsolved--are we related to this McLeod, and if so, how? Or is it a close friend of the family, or what?

And finally, every American genealogist's nightmare--the name change...mum sometimes could not entirely get sorted out whether her family name was indeed "Featherly" or, Vedderly--a Dutch spelling...or even, Vedder. That's because the further back she went, the more muddled the name became.

So, to change the subject completely...

I apologize for my last post...I was wet, cold, sick and tired...and my guard was down--yes, I was seriously depressed yesterday. Sorry for the doom and gloom of that post--but that was what I was thinking and feeling, at the time. I'm a bit cheerier, today, ta, even though I feel totally lousy, physically. And, I have it to do all over again tommorrow--the long walk to work, I mean...may chance the trolley..but the schedlues are so bleedin' iffy..don't want to be late for work, either. The walk wouldn't be so bad, if it weren't for the dadblasted hills. I hate hills! No, really. I grew up on a hill--you haven't lived 'till you've had to run down your street and up a long steep hill after a schoolbus first thing in the morning when it's 2 degrees outside (farenheight)! Oh yeah, that was fun for the better half of the first 14 years of my life. (I wasn't the most athletic kid around, either.)

And, I have been puzzling for a while about a Doctor Who mystery...in the beginning of the Chistmas Invasion episode, the Doctor emits some glowing energy stuff that goes up into space...accompanied by music and some very hard to discern--nearly impossibly so--words. Anyway, a fellow fan claims that the words involve a race called...I think...the "Mysterions" or something like that...what's with that, ey? I've given a bit of a listen, and can't quite make it out. Hmmm---very interesting...and mysterous..ooooaahhh--ha-ha-ha! (Insert mildly creepy music here.)