The Quest

Pupstraction: Being distracted by puppies. We stood in the dining room this evening discussing possible blog topics while the pups entertained both us and themselves. Roxy's CleverPet was the source of much of this distraction. In case you haven't heard of the CleverPet... it's like a flying saucer full of dog treats has landed in your home. It has blue lights across the front a la 2001: A Space Odyssey , only less spectacular. If your pet taps the lights in the right order, they are rewarded with a treat. Unfortunately, it doesn't ever respond with Also sprach Zarathustra . (That would be super entertaining if it did, though.) Meg has decided that the CleverPet is the best source of nighttime snacks, but she doesn't really know how to open it. Her mom helps out when she gets the first one right but can't figure out the second one. Her Aunt Kef's tactic is to point to each correct light and encourage her to do it herself. She can do it with Kef's hel

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that I was in Schenectady for a PRSA meeting, that I took pictures, and that I'd share them later. Later is now. Schenectady is one of those towns I've always heard of but don't know why. I just remember the name, but not why the place might have been significant. Maybe it's because Grace Adler was from Schenectady, but I doubt it. All of the other popular references are ones I wouldn't have known, but I can't imagine that I paid attention that closely when watching Will and Grace . Regardless, I knew the name before I moved here. It's about a half hour drive from our house to the downtown area of Schenectady, where we have had lunch, enjoyed a show, and I have had some meetings. It's a cute downtown area, with historic buildings along a very walkable main street called State Street. The place where we had our PRSA event is called Urban Co-Works. It's an interesting flexible office space that allows non

I've often wondered whether the technology effect is good or bad. By the technology effect I mean the fact that you can readily find information on just about anything online, and you can use your devices for almost everything. For the most part, I love it. What I don't love is the fact that I don't seem to really know things anymore. I rely on Google to give me answers to my questions, my digital calendar to remind me of appointments, my phone to wake me up and do basic math, Facebook to tell me when there's a birthday and remind me what I was doing at this time last year. Growing up, my parents always encouraged us to find answers to our questions. Any time we asked them something, they'd say, "Look it up." What they really meant was that we should consult an encyclopedia or a dictionary. We had about four different sets of encyclopedias (maybe five?), which are now sorely out-dated. I miss looking things up in a book. Searching for subjects in Funk

As I was walking through Petco today, I passed the ferrets and parakeets. Both reminded me of other ferrets and parakeets I'd encountered. I could tell the story of the diseased ferret that came into my life for a brief moment a few years back, but many of you already know the story... and that's not the one on my mind today. What's really on my mind is Pete. Pete was my green parakeet. My parents gave me Pete for my birthday (I don't remember which one), along with a custom cage that my father made. It had a sliding tray in the bottom that you could remove to clean out the cage and replace the paper. Pete came from my babysitter's house. She raised parakeets. The first challenge I had with Pete was naming him. Apparently, my parents had had several parakeets. I honestly don't remember the birds themselves (maybe they were before my time?), but I remembered that their names were Pete 1, Pete 2, Pete 3, etc. Because I knew this, my young mind could only think

Today's post was going to be a photo gallery hodge podge. I intended to write something about a few of the  pictures in my phone that I haven't posted for whatever reason and explain why I took said picture. Well, apparently the wifi adapter in my computer has chosen to take the night off, and this is rather difficult to do on my phone. So, I'll just do one tonight. This info graphic was on display at the Kate Mullany house. It describes the discrimination that many Irish Catholics faced when they immigrated to the United States. I admit to being fairly uninformed about this.

I spent this afternoon in Troy, the Collar City. It is so named because of the detachable collars that were first imagined and then manufactured there. The purpose of my visit was primarily to visit the campus of the Emma Willard School for a job interview. Emma Willard was a pioneer in education for women, and felt there was no reason women could not be as well-educated as men. She was right. Over 200 years ago, she started a school for women and it is still going strong (although it has moved locations over time). The campus is stunning, and the staff are friendly and engaging. In addition to the advancement of education for women, Troy was also the home of Kate Mullany, the first woman to organize a labor union. She was a young Irish immigrant who took issue with the dangerous conditions and low wages paid to laundresses who washed and ironed the detachable collars Troy was known for. Kate organized her co-workers into the Collar Laundry Union in 1864. After my intervi

When I was visiting the Horn-Eldred family last weekend, the end of my visit was punctuated with a much-anticipated geode smash. I have never had an unopened geode, much less participated in the process of breaking one open. Apparently this is something that Emma has done often, and each time she hopes for an interesting color other than white. When Emma took a hammer and broke the stone open, it was indeed filled with white crystals. Although that's not what she'd hoped for, they're beautiful nonetheless. I was gifted with this part of the stone... This entire experience got me to wondering... what gives a geode its color? The answer, I've found, is that it's the composition of minerals in the stone. Most are filled with white quartz. Sometimes you'll see brightly-colored geodes, but the brightness of color generally means it has been artificially colored. Certain minerals can contribute colors like blue, purple, pink or green but these are rare. You ca

Originally posted on my travel blog . As I was leaving Holland this morning, I checked two boxes on my GPS settings: Avoid Toll Roads and Avoid Highways. It was time to see a little countryside. One of the things I wanted to make sure I did this time was stop and take pictures of this church in Palmer. It is my favorite building on the way to my friends' home, and I have never taken the time to get a photo. St. Paul's Church was founded as a Universalist congregation in 1876. I guess I just assumed that it was something else first, but after looking into the history I found that it has always been a Universalist congregation. The church building was built in 1879 out of Monson granite, quarried just a few miles to the south of Palmer. Rather than turn north at Palmer to get on I-90, I continued through the town and its historic homes to take Highway 181 toward Bondsville. Passing white-washed fences that skirted red barns and silver-gray silos, I took in the charm

Today in Massachusetts, and in fact all over the northeast, it was Texas hot. Like Houston. Hot, sticky, sweaty, oppressive hot.  When it's this sweltering, you look for something to do that allows you to stay indoors in the air conditioning, assuming you have air conditioning. Luckily Shannon and Tim do. We spent our evening watching the "Best Marigold Hotels" movies because I had always wanted to, but never got the opportunity. They were as lovely as I expected them to be. As the characters reflected on lives well lived, or in some cases seemingly wasted, there were a couple of quotes that stood out to me... Evelyn Greenslade: Nothing here has worked out quite as I expected. Muriel Donnelly: Most things don't. But sometimes what happens instead is the good stuff. I like the thought of the"instead." We all have expectations of how situations in our lives will turn out.  Sometimes we have more control than other times. When things don't work

Yesterday evening, I had the pleasure of having dinner with the Troy Irish Genealogy Society at Max410, the restaurant at the country club on Van Schaick Island. Before you pronounce that wrong in your head, let me tell you it's not "Shake" as I've been saying, but "Skike" ... of course it is. The island is located at the confluence of the Mohawk and Hudson Rivers in Cohoes, New York. Our meeting was at 6:30, but I remembered incorrectly that it was at 6, so I was a half hour early. What to do, what to do... Several times, I had passed signs to the Van Schaick Mansion, but had never been there. According to the Google, it was a minute's walk from where I was. So I decided to zip over there and take a look at the outside of the mansion. It really was just around the corner, and let me say that it didn't look like a mansion to me. But it was built between 1735 and 1755, so I guess back then it was a mansion. Think about that. This home was built be

I actually had quite a bit to write about today, but I got sidetracked and it's past my bedtime. I'll save it all for another day. But I will tell you one little tidbit. As I was leaving a PRSA meeting in Schenectady this morning, I decided to walk down the street to get a closer look at the church whose steeple was beckoning from a few blocks up the street. I looked, took pictures (which I'll share later), and turned to head back to my car before my 2-hour free parking was up. Just as I was about to walk up the side street to the parking lot, I saw these intriguing furry shrubs that just begged for a picture. I found them this evening on the google. It's called a Smoke Shrub because the tufts of (what I call) fur look a bit like smoke. Very unusual. Although this plant is able to grow in Texas zones, I don't recall ever seeing one. Apparently they are more prevalent in the north because the colder weather makes their colors more dramatic.

When I lived in Lubbock, I was very active in the Emmaus Community. The Walk to Emmaus is a weekend of spiritual renewal that is once-in-a-lifetime. Once you go on your Walk, you can participate as a team member. But you only go on your "pilgrim" walk once. I went on a walk for teenagers, called Chrysalis, in 1990. I worked on several teams and was eventually a Lay Director for a Walk in the Llano Estacado Emmaus Community . I even served as the secretary of the board for several years. Over time, I was a member of a couple of different reunion groups. These are people who get together regularly to share the spiritual aspects of their lives. (Although it's called "reunion," group members don't have to have been on the same Walk.) When I moved to the DFW area, Emmaus was harder to connect to. Monthly gatherings weren't the same as they were in Lubbock, if they happened at all.  It took me several years before I even sponsored someone on a Walk in tha

If there's one thing that intrigues me, it's an ornate old building. I always want to know what it once was, especially if it has fallen into disrepair. I want to know the story and see the pictures (both then and now). I first heard about the Albany Almshouse, or home for the poor, when mother and I were touring the New York State Museum shortly after I moved here. They had a display there about the people who died there. They had even reconstructed the faces of a couple using their skulls, and were able to somewhat describe what life would have been like for them. Many were buried in basically a mass unmarked grave, the exact location of which is unclear. News reports a while back said that it was on what is now Albany Airport property. Fast-forward a few months, and I saw a news article about how the Ann Lee Home, which was the later-given name of the Albany Almshouse, was to be used to house homeless veterans. It was last used as a county nursing home, but had fallen in

I've been working on a new brochure for the Troy Irish Genealogy Society . In the process, I've been looking at old photos of Troy. This city is one of the most interesting ones in this area, in my opinion. Looking at the skyline from the Hudson River is like stepping back in time. The church spires tower above a crowded matrix of row houses and historical 19th century buildings. It looks much like this, even today. View of Troy from Mount Ida (I think) This afternoon, I was going over to Troy to register for a drawing class at the Arts Center of the Capital Region , a gift from Kef. As I was sitting at the stop light to turn right onto River Street, my eyes were drawn to the Market Block building rising up at the corner of River and Fulton. The light changed, so I couldn't take a photo, but you can see it here on a Google Map street view . This amazing structure is characteristic of many buildings in the Central Troy Historic District . The Wikipedia article on this

I was standing outside this evening, looking through the windows at the warmly-lit living area that has been the center of my home for the past few months. There is very little inside that belongs to me. The furniture isn't mine. Most of the linens and cleaning supplies and dishes aren't mine. The electricity isn't mine, nor are the walls and floors and toilets and bed. But from the outside looking in, it felt like home. There have been many times over the past few months that I've missed my "stuff." I have wished I had this thing or that. Hesitated to buy this or that, because I have a similar one in storage. I've spent a fair bit of time thinking about how I'll get my things when the time comes. And yet, as much as I've missed the trappings of my own home, it has been a little bit freeing. It's not often you're able to be liberated of almost everything but the clothes you wear. I've reflected on it many times, wondering if I reall

A while back, I was playing a game on my phone that kept popping up with an advertisement for Merge Dragons. One fateful day, I finally installed it. Since then, I have lost hours of my life. That little game is like Count Rugen. "I've just sucked one year of your life away... Tell me, and remember this is for posterity, so be honest. How do you feel?" ( The Princess Bride has an uncanny number of real life applications.) When I was trying to decide what to write about this evening, all I could reflect on was the fact that I spent all day merging things. Just about every weekend, the game creators entice you with a special goal or mini-game that is only good from Friday to Monday. It's what Kef and I call "The Time Suck" because you can literally lose hours while merging things toward your goal. What is it that makes us so enthralled by this game? A site about addictions says that some gamers are addicted to the completion of a mission. I'd have to

Okay, name that movie quote. (I mean the movie from whence this title came.) I was really just going to call this post "Grab Bag" because it's about a random bunch of things. But since it's about things in nature, Darwin's Grab Bag sounded better. I digress before I even get started. Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. (Name that movie quote too! I'm on a roll. Spoiler alert: movie answers are at the end of this post.) It all started yesterday when I was eating lunch on the deck, soaking up some sun and making use of Kef's new patio dining set. As I was about to take a bite of my sandwich, something flew past my face and landed on my hand. If it was a bug, I would have flung it off immediately, even if I had to sacrifice my sandwich. But it was just a little piece of white fluff. No big deal. Then, the little piece of white fluff started to walk away. Literally. I thought I was imagining it at first, but I took a closer look and f

Tomorrow morning I'm going to a plein air class (painting outside) at Ann Lee Pond. Ann Lee was a Shaker and brought her faith and followers here in 1774. Her story is really interesting (read on Wikipedia ). Originally this pond was the mill pond at the Shaker settlement, which is now a historic site. I haven't had the chance to go out there yet, so I'm really looking forward to both the painting and the visit to this site.  Shaker heritage is very rich in this area as this was the site of the first Shaker settlement in America. I've read that the communities weren't sustainable because they practiced celibacy. Makes sense, I guess. You can read more about the Shakers on the Shaker Heritage Society website . Sorry for the short post today, but it's bedtime... I just wanted to get something out there.

Shannon and I used to write notes to each other during class. (Yes, we were in college. What's your point? Note-writing didn't die in Junior High.) We had a lot of little sayings that we'd use in regular conversation, and many of them required a certain tone of voice in order for you to get their true intent. When writing rather than talking, we'd put "tov" in parenthesis when using one of these words or phrases. That was my signal to him that I wasn't actually asking "Really?" but being sarcastic... Really? (tov) In other words, read those words with the tone of voice you know I'd be using if we were talking. There are so many uses for tov. "I'm winning (tov)" is different than "I'm winning." I can't remember now all the phrases we added tov to (Shannon probably can... I wish I had those notes handy so I could look back). But there are many times when I'm writing that I feel the compulsion to add tov.

This morning, I closely followed the progress of a particularly dedicated ant, hauling another dead ant away. I can only assume that the live ant was taking the dead ant back to the nest. It made me wonder why. Is this a military ant... never leave a fallen comrade? Or a teacher ant... no ant left behind? At one point, the live ant dropped the dead ant and appeared to be having trouble regaining her hold (I've read that all ants are female... is that true?). So, I took a stick and flipped the dead ant so that she would be more easily carried. Luckily, Live Ant was then able to get a better grip on Dead Ant and they continued on. While this was going on, the dogs were having great fun wrestling all over the place. I asked them nicely to not wrestle over the ant, and certainly not to step on her as she's making such a valiant effort. She tripped over rocks and climbed grass and dodged dogs. Live Ant was a super-hero ant. When I searched Google for more information on the tr

I completely forgot to write yesterday. When I decided to try daily blogging, I knew it would be a challenge. I feel like I'm doing pretty well, but when evening comes and old routines fall into place... it becomes bedtime before you know it! Yesterday was Sunday, and since I've moved to New York I haven't settled into a church. So Sunday mornings are very relaxing... no angst about whether everything is going well in Grapevine, and no rush to get up and get going. It's interesting that Sunday mornings have historically been a source of stress for me. Although my "ought to" tells me I should be going to church, my "want to" tells me to step outside and breath deeply of the world that God has created. It was a beautiful day for that yesterday. It seems to me that we, as humans, manufacture a good bit of stress for ourselves. The old stress of Sunday morning church has been replaced with a new stress of the "ought to." And then there'

If you're looking for a good book to read, I'd like to introduce you to Steve Robinson . He's no relation to me (my mother's maiden name is Robinson), but my love of his books does have a genealogical connection. Steve writes genealogical mysteries. The hero of each book is Jefferson Tayte, JT, who is a genealogist. JT gets into a lot more trouble than most genealogists I know, but it sure makes for a fun read. One of the things I love about Steve's books is that I always come away with a new idea about where I could look for missing information. New research tactics abound in each of his thrilling books. If you love suspense and you love genealogy, I think you'll be hooked. I just finished the last book he released, Letters from the Dead , and have already pre-ordered the next one, The Penmaker's Wif e. They are all available on Amazon , some even in multiple languages. Although I saw on his Facebook  page that they were all on sale for .99 cents for a

I took a day away from the computer yesterday. It was Independence Day, after all. I really hadn't intended to, but Kef asked if I wanted to go find a waterfall with her. Who can say no to that? By the time we got home, I was exhausted and just wanted to lounge on the couch. So I figured I'd hold this blog post until I was fresher and more alert. Our destination this beautiful July holiday was the Christman Sanctuary, a nature preserve near Duanesburg in Schenectady County, New York. The land was, as you might guess, donated by the Christman family. The earliest map I could find that included landowners' names, the 1866 Stone & Stuart , shows the land belonging to S. Christman. I found that to be Spencer Christman, father of William Weaver Christman, in whose memory the land was donated (by his youngest son, Lansing Christman). According to the obituary on Find-a-Grave , Spencer Christman purchased the land in 1848, where he farmed, raised his family, and died at the