Sink your teeth into this

Cookie HATES the Dentist.  If I could insert HATES in a larger font without throwing everything off in BLOGGER, well then, I would.   But I can't so I shan't.

Anyhow,  lets just say that a tooth that had been drilled and filled and drilled and refilled finally when bad.

How bad?

Mayonnaise and potato salad, left out in the hot sun, for hours bad.

I only have myself to blame.  I kept my big yap shut while I was in Salt Lake City but realized that it was really bad when I got home.

So I went to the dentist.  I have been back two weeks and have been to the man's office three times, because that's what happens when you let thing get to this point.

The good news is that he saved the tooth and I am getting a crown.  The bad news is that I have spent seven hours in a dental chair because of my procrastination and fear.

And it was seven hours of needles, files, drills, gum resections and lasers, MORE lidocaine and needles, and on an on.

So now I have my temporary on and I have to wait three weeks for the permanent.   The crown will be in in two weeks, but the dentist and his wife are in joint practice, so they close the office during spring break so they can get in a family vacation.

That isn't their fault, that's mine.

Let us say that I have learned my lesson. I should be chewing pretty on the first day of spring.

The party's over: Still recovering from Utah.

So, a week ago we woke up in our bed, in our house, in Maryland, with an awful case of jet lag.

And we still have the jet lag.

Well sure, there were social events all over the convention area, and yes we burned our candles at both ends, but jeezy oh Pete, gosh darn it's been hard to shake this Utah thing.

Making matter more difficult is that the weather has been springtime lovely here, for the most part.

So we are a bit off of our game.

And a little afraid.

I broke a tooth and that never ends well for me, the tooth or the wallet.

So that cashectomy is tomorrow morning.  You know dentists.  When they start poking around this has gone bad and that has gone bad and this is going to have to be taken care of.  Bother.

BUT, and let me do this, if you are interested in genealogy and can afford it, RootsTech is an utter blast.  I said I would never go back and do it, but I am already making plans for 2018.  Just remember, register, book your hotel as soon as registration opens up.  Its worth it.

Husband + Cousin = COUSBAND

So, know that you know that where we were in Utah for the RootsTech conference, you might as well what fun we had at the Family Research Library on Temple Square.

The library building itself is smallish, and frankly outdated, BUT, and that is a BIG BUT, they have modernized the library's welcome center into a multi-media extravaganza for genealogists.

If you have a family tree posted to FamilySearch, which is the LDS Church FREE, wonderful, website (Yes, you have register and sign in, but it is free and amazing), you sign in and you get a smart tablet.  There are stations around the library where you can work with ginormous touch-screens to get basic information on where your surname is from, pose in virtual period clothing for free images of you living as an ancestor of yours would have lived, etc.  You can even record, a la StoryCorps-like answers to questions, etc.

BUT, the most fascinating station is the first one you come to.  Stick your tablet to the giant magnet next to a screen and you and your ancestors come up.  So do your relationships to others who are visiting and uploaded their trees.  And you can select their pictures and see if you are related to them.

This is very cool.  A little loosey goosey, too.  Because in genealogy, it's the *proof* that matters.  And these lineages are based on information submitted by you and augmented by others research as submitted by them.  So it's kind of fun, but you could never submit this to make the DAR, SAR or even most small town genealogy societies.  I mean it's dazzling, but far from the certain truth.

Into this walks Cookie and the Husband.   So we each get signed in, we each get tablets - mine was No. 1 out of the shelves and draws full of these, and off we go.  So I attach my tablet to one large screen monitor, and the husband attaches his and up and we started exploring.  And as each person coming in joins the network you can see who is and who is not related.

Now, I have to confide, almost everyone I connected with was ninth cousin, or beyond, meaning our connections date to the late 17th century or early 18th century at best.  And if you start connecting through with people from the 1400's, well then, you are most certainly related to lots and lots of people because the world was a much small place.

So I choose my Husband's picture.  Why, I don't know, but I do.  Now on Ancestry DNA, we are not related.  There is no way.  Our DNA doesn't match.  But that only goes back eight generations or so.

We, I touched the picture and almost fell off my high heels.

Eleventh cousins, once removed.

Well.  Shit.

This is a relationship that isn't even on the Canon Law chart, which stops at 10th Cousins.   In astronomical terms, our cousin relationship is the genealogical equivalent of Pluto.

Still, this was cause for much fun and merriment.  The line drops for husband on his father's side, and on my side drops through my maternal 2x great grandmother's side.

I am not allowed to call him my "Cousin", but I am allowed to call him my "Cousband".

But never during sex.

And seeing that we are not Snuffy Smith or Little Abner fans, it wouldn't come out during our fantasy roleplayings.  And since neither of us is in to that, well, so much for roleplaying at all.  

Now to prove the lines.

Could be fun, to find out how much of a kissing cousin my husband is.

Of Sporrans and a Merkin

Ask her about her merkin.  I dare you.

So, you are most likely wondering, where has Cookie been.

If I told you Salt Lake City, Utah, would you believe me?

There are three things that you can do Salt Lake City this time of the year.  One of them is ski.  The other is attend the world's largest genealogy conference, RootTech.   The third involves having body parts anointed with oils in the LDS Temple.

I can assure you that I do not ski, and I have not been anointed with oil, or anything else.

So yes, I have been at the largest genealogy conference on the face of the earth, along with an estimated 29,999 other hobbyists and professionals.   And I am not making that number up.  The Salt Palace Convention Center is one of the largest convention centers in the United States, and it was packed.

And if any of you has ever been to a large national convention, then you know that there are never enough places to sit and hide from the maddening crowds.

I found such a place in a booth operated by by some friends on Facebook and plopped down.  While I was eating a sandwich people popped in and others walked by.

At one point, a handsome Laddie from the tour Scotland Booth stopped by in his kilt and tweeds, looking rather natty.  Another friend of the people in the booth stopped by.

"That," says I, "is an impressive sporran he has there."

The man standing next to me said "That?  That is a merkin."

Now, Cookie knows that regular readers know what a sporran is, and I damn well know for certain that all y'all know what a merkin is.   And forty lashes with a limp noodle if you don't know.   Still, Cookie was a bit caught off guard.

So this handsome man and I banter back and forth a bit, much like "Sporran!"  "No, it's a merkin!"

Finally, Cookie whispers into his ear what it is.

And he was a bit gobsmacked.

"Don't believe me, look it up."

He did.

"They come in heart shapes, and look!  A shamrock!" says the handsome young man, a bit of shock peppered with wonderment.

Aye, brings to meaning to "Lucky Charms".

"And look at that one," I pointed out.  It was shaped like an asteroidea.  "Now you and the misses can both have delicate starfishes of your own to play with."

That went over his head.

This encounter included, Cookie has to admit that it was a wonderful experience.  The education was top notch and the people at the conference were wonderful.  The speakers were especially so.   But laughing with friends, new and old, is worth the adventure.

Tomorrow we fly home and can kick out the house sitter and bask in the love of our dogs, our shower, and our own beds.

Just remember, a sporran is worn on the outside, and the merkin is not a sporran.

Clown Violence Needs to End

So is this cover art for the Mystery of the NUDE NYMPH, or the Unholy Crime of the CHEATING LOVERS?  And what his he poking her with to merit that look?