So my favorite aunt was in town last weekend, all the way from Amish country, PA. But she’s not Amish. No, she flew here. And wore jeans. And partook of electricity. And no barns were raised whilst she was here. At least that we were involved in.
Anyway, turns out, she’s been busily researching our family tree and while she was telling us all about it, she dropped this bombshell: My family on my father’s side is NOT Welsh, as we’ve always thought. Nope. We are Scottish. I mean — gasp! Talk about yer tailspin! Talk about yer identity crisis! Wow. Really? Okay. So, not this:
(Although I fear I have these mom jeans and their attendant tightness issues hidden somewhere deep in my closet. Nasty Welsh.)
But this:
Okay. Hm. Actually, yesss, this seems about right. Pants-less and blue-faced and crazed.
mmmmmm, kilts.
Genealogy- the only hobby whose practioners bore the fool out of each other.
And everyone else.
“No, dear, I have no idea why this family got up and moved from Pothole, AK to Sagebutt, TX. I have no window to the motivations of people who’ve been dead for a hundred years. Sorry…”
happy 1st B-day, Bubs!
Do I see what I think I’m seeing in those jeans?!?! I didn’t know your site was X-rated Tracey ^j^
Have fun playing hookie!!! (I like to rhyme it with nookie…)
“They can take our lives, but they will never take our FREEDOM!!”
Yeah, Tom’s got definite male camel toe.
Tom Jones is WELSH?!
Waaaaaaahhhhhh! Does that mean we’re not kindred spirits after all? I mean, we’re both supposed to be Welsh and share the same b-day!! Oh well, 1 out of 2 ain’t that bad.
We’re kinda kindred, we both hate the English! (not really, but for arguments sake).
Having been to both, it’s a hard decision on which is prettier.