No News Is No News, Genealogically Speaking

I have handed off information and links to my DNA to the researchers. And now I wait. We have a kickoff meeting on June 2nd. In the meantime, I'm thinking about what the first researcher told me over the phone. She needed to take medical leave and couldn't continue working with me, but was able to report back about what she'd found so far.

As I mentioned earlier, she told me that the same man fathered my mom and her brother. But that that man was not related to the families I thought I came from. My grandfather "was either adopted by his parents, or your mother had a long-term relationship with another man who is the father of your mother and your uncle." In our discussion she shared that my bio-grandad had Midwest connections and southern German DNA, unlike the German DNA I have on my mom's mom's side. Instead of the names that are so familiar to me, the names she mentioned as possible connections are completely new and *sometimes* names I've never even heard before. Signs point to Illinois, not Cheyenne or Tucumcari or anywhere in Texas, or even Los Angeles, where these births occurred.

At first I concerned myself with seeing if I could figure out who the mystery bio-grandad might be based on the names that she shared with me. One very common last name was listed alongside my grandad's on a bowling trophy. Maybe Granny got it on with one of Grandaddy's co-workers. So I tried to figure out who that person, listed only by first initial, might have been.

Then I thought about my grandparents' only known connection to Illinois -- an unknown dentist who lived in  Chicago who they also bought jewelry from (random, I know). I looked at directories of Los Angeles dentists with the names the genealogist provided. And then I forked over more money to Ancestry to have other people figure this out.

In the meantime I couldn't stop thinking about Chicago. What if the break in my mom's paternal line is farther up, and it really is that my grandfather was adopted. Did the orphan trains come through Cheyenne? Turns out that they did.

I'll probably hammer away at this more until June 2nd.

News of Norway

Is it me? Is it Norway?

It's probably a bit of both.

Happy Saturday! I'm reading the English language translation of Bergens Tidende, the local newspaper and finding all of the weird parts. There's an opinion piece about some new development on a spit of land that's about half a mile from the place where my grandmother was born. The author seems miffed that the developer is mimicking the shape and color of historic buildings. Around here, ersatz historic buildings are considered somewhat sensitive to the local aesthetic. I used to call them Fictorians, but I've gotten used to them.

Anyhoo -- I'm reading the article and minding my own business, navigating the ads for athletic shoes that keep popping up, when I see it:

I write to my friend and ask "Is this a Norwegian idiom?" I mean, I get it but who expects to read the words "butt" and "taste" in the same sentence over their morning coffee. I told mrguy and he says it is now his favorite saying and will use it all the time.

Then I'm reading an article with the headline "They were waiting to die. Then came the miracle drug." As the wife of a man with a terminal illness, I am drawn to miracle cures of a Western medicine sort. The story starts out as one of testicular cancer in Norway, which in the 1970s metastasized rapidly in patients. Then there was nothing that could be done to help. Then a scientist discovered that bacteria stopped dividing when current was run through it using platinum electrodes. It was the platinum, which was spreading platinum compounds into the bacteria solution. They tested the platinum stuff on animals and people. So was born Cisplatin. Men with testicular cancer were saved by this treatment. My man, also, has been saved by this treatment. Also, if he ever had ball cancer, he's probably cured of that.

Also, this is the only article I've ever read in which a cancer doctor advises a patient to continue smoking.

A Heckava Sunday

I ordered two tickets to Syttende Mai luncheon at the club, hoping that a friend would join. And she did! We met a while back as members of the club and we should do a better job of keeping in touch because she spends half of the year in Norway. We're just catching up and she's about to head to her cabin in a few weeks.

So I went over to her place and she drove this time. May 17th is Norwegian Constitution day, so people who gather put on their traditional garb and gather to celebrate. This year May 17th was also the day of our local wacky foot race in which people wear all kine nonsense and parade about. The route goes directly in front of the Club.

We had a fantastic time catching up on our ride. I got to hear about new windows in the cabin, and she got to hear the latest about mrguy. We took the back way, so to speak, and it was unspeakably lovely -- the kind of day that makes tourists decide to move here and regret it their first summer. It was so sunny that I barely recognized my city. 

We left two hours early because of the ratfuckery of the foot race. And yet our trip was so smooth. Certain roads were still re-routed, so we saw parts of the city that we'd never seen before. We found a nearby parking space, and there we were an hour early. My friend mentioned that she'd done a Club work day when she gardened with other members. She wanted to take a picture of their garden work. She was turned toward me with her back to the crosswalk behind us so she could not see the entirely naked man heading our way. I turned to her and said "Wait for a sec...........NOW!!" She took the photo not exactly knowing what she was capturing.

It was this:

We were already having a good day, and then she takes this perfect photo of naked man in front of the newly planted garden with Norwegian flags.

Across form the Club, people were out enjoying the park in their banana and Cheeto package outfits. There was an entire marching band playing. It was delightful. We took a park bench and gabbed for a while. I took some time to program my hat to say Syttende Mai, and then we headed back toward the Club. Managed to see the naked man again and capture a distant photo of him from the front for the amusement of mrguy, who stayed home.

The doors opened at 3. Snacks were in the bar. We had lovely conversations with various ladies and waited and waited for the dinner bell to ring. Dinner at the club is beyond random. In this case we had one of our better chefs. And the salad was beyond. Beyond!! The entree, however, was tragic. Salmon sat on a delicious sauce of stewed leeks and fennel, in a further puddle of ginger carrot nage. But -- no starch. We're Norwegian, for cryin' out loud! Then the salmon was entirely confusing. It was translucent. It was room temperature. It looked as if it had been taken out of the refrigerator and put in a sunny window to warm up. I ate the sauce from under the salmon.

Some people were wearing their traditional bunads. The adorable married couple next to me were wearing alternative bunads. They'd just graduated from college and were moving to Norway, which I think is a smart choice. They were trans. This is not a safe place to be gender non-conforming.

The program for the luncheon, which was now being served closer to 6pm (!) involved various toasts and songs. The first toast was in honor of the king of Norway. The second was in honor of the president of the United States, named. Our side of the table looked askance. The guy next to my friend told her "I'm a Republican, but I'm not *that* kind of Republican". I was shocked that this was the choice, not to toast the United States, which seems much more universally agreed-upon.

I texted a blow-by-blow to mrguy when things got slow. 

It was a great day. I don't really know how to help my people make a better club. I would like to help, but I don't have the free time right now. 

I have so many opinions. Basically I can't invite friends unless they understand that the food will often be super weird and nobody has mic technique when they give toasts or announcements.

"Gratulerer med dagen!"

Things Go Better With Iron, Apparently

Yesterday I got my final iron infusion. I was talking to the nurse about how my mental health seems better since I started the infusions. He said he hadn't heard that there was a connection between the two, and was curious about it based on what he knows professionally. So I tapped out a google search with my *right* hand and he and I discovered that there is totally a connection.

Iron helps you metabolize dopamine and serotonin. That's all you have to tell me. And him, too!

This has been a public service announcement by mrsguy.

Some pretty things from this week:

The last orchids from the front yard, plus some clippings of a plant whose name I do not know. I have been growing this in two big pots on the front walk, and they get shaggy and woody and I've wanted to buy more of them but don't know what they are. A month ago I experimented with rooting them and it's INSANE how quickly they root. Today I am going to try planting some in the garden to see what happens. 

The inside of a dumpster near work.

Sunset cat.