Sandy

1. Tree carnage.
2. Getting dark.
3&4. I wear the lopapeysa I bought in Iceland for the first time. It's super furry.
5. Knitting and reading in the dark.
6. Playing "The Blair Witch Project." I was way too young for that movie when it came out, and now I have way too many vestibular problems, so I've never seen it, but I've heard that it looks like this.
7&8. Aftermath.

Well, that was something. My thoughts are with those who are homeless tonight.

BONUS: Before and after. Yes, this is the same exact place.

My father's DNA

The results are in ...

... my ancestors definitely made this. And this:

That is, The Book of Kells and Newgrange. That's a roundabout way of saying that we got the results of my father's DNA test a few days ago. Crazily enough, my father shares a Y-chromosome with my best friend's father ... and with Stephen Colbert. This paternal haplogroup is known as R1b1b2a1a2f and is found most commonly in Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and France (but mostly Ireland). This is what one of my cousins wrote about it in the Facebook group devoted to this Y-chromosome:

R1b-L21 is also known as S145, R1b1b2a1b5 and R1b1b2a1a2f. It is often referred to as "Insular Celt" and "Pretani" due to its high occurrence in Britain and Ireland. It originated (most likely in the Alps) about 4100 - 4200 years ago. It is most commonly found in Ireland, Britain, France and west Germany. Brythonic, Gaelic and Gaulish Celtic, West Germanic. It is considered a marker of Brythonic Celtic, Gaelic Celtic, and Gaulish Celtic and west Germanic origin. It is also found in southwest Norway perhaps due to slavery or a Celtic-Viking alliance and among a small group of Polish Ashkenazi, in which case their male ancestor was most likely forced to leave France hundreds of years ago. Of course it is now found all over the world such as the Americas and Australia. R1b-L21 is a brother subclade of S28 Alpine Celts also known as U152. Both groups descend from S116 the Italo-Celtic marker originated about 5,300 years ago in western Europe.

 Here's the information that 23andme provides:

My father's mitochondrial haplogroup is U3b. Apparently this one of the rarer haplogroups. It's common among Bulgarians, Adygei, Jordanians, and the Roma! I've traced my father's maternal line as far as the Netherlands in the late 16th century. That leaves a lot of time (more than 40,000 years) between the time that this haplogroup first appeared in the Caucasus in which my ancestors were God-knows-where. But hey, look - some people with my father's mitochondrial DNA made it to Iceland!

Iceland Oatflakes 2

 

  

Again, I'm not sure if I've posted any of these photographs before, but if so they're worth posting again. We're in the midst of Frankenstorm and I'm spending the day knitting and watching the Daily Show with Miss Teto. 

Part of my dad's DNA results came back today. We still don't know what his ancestry is (that's still processing), but we do know that he has the same genotype for hair color that I do, which is interesting, because we don't have the same hair color (having that genotype doesn't guarantee that you will have red hair, but indicates that you have a "substantially higher" chance). But check out this photograph - his mustache is the same color as my hair!

World War I Draft Registration Cards are some of the best genealogical sources because they record hair color, eye color, and body type (in addition to address, age, etc.). In 1917, my great-grandfather was recorded as having light red hair, blue eyes, and being tall and slim. His son (my father's father) had red hair. So that's four generations of red hair. Of course, since red hair is recessive, it can't come from just one side of the family. My maternal grandfather also had red hair. I don't know if anyone else finds this interesting, but I do!

The Devil's Lexicon

My dad finds the weirdest things.

Let the Right One In

My friend Katie and I watched this last night while eating barmbrack. It's somewhat scary, and very Swedish.

Image sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

The Belles Heures of Jean de Berry

 

You guys. This manuscript. It's crazy. Sorry, but I've used up all my big words writing about it for class. You can read more about it here. Just look how weird and awesome it is. Many of the scenes in it are ones that had never been depicted in manuscripts before. And the illuminators, Jean, Paul, and Herman de Limbourg, were all around my age or younger when they worked on it. I told you, it's crazy.

Moomin

The only Moomin book I read when I was little was Moominland Midwinter. When I rediscovered Moomins as an adult, I was rather surprised to find that it was all very light-hearted stuff. Apparently, Moominland Midwinter marks a departure in Tove Jansson's series. It's darker. I am waiting for the perfect time to re-rediscover the Moomins. Preferably, it will be when I have several small creatures of my own to read the books to. I'm hoping for humans, but will settle for kittens if necessary.

All images from the Moomiest Blog, a wonderful blog that sadly doesn't seem to be updating any longer.

Scratch Chapter Eight

Eight

Viola was up early at the stern looking out the black bowl window. Collier’s shift was just ending at the helm. The boys were asleep. Day, as it was rising, eagerly spun pale frosty threads on the glass beneath Viola’s fingers, and Hogan should be up, but he wasn’t.

“April,” she called to Collier, “can you check on Hogan?”

Being in the Star when the others weren’t around was like floating on the inside of a beating heart. It was surprisingly quiet. If you stayed still long enough, you might question whether your ears were still attached to your head. But then you listened and heard it: the dull shush, the rush of warming blood. It flowed quickly and evenly and always at that steady rate, which found accord with your own rhythm over time. The ship would teach your own heart how to throb in its way and to throb endlessly, and this is how they said it made you immortal.

Iceland Outtakes

 

These are some photos I don't think I've shared on the blog - although I can't be sure; it's hard to keep track of the eight million photos I took in Iceland. It's weird to think that when I was little (way, WAY back in the '90s) I could have only used film, taking about 20 photos per roll. Yes, I haven't lived very long, but that's the point. By the time I have children, I expect that Science will have figured out a way to take the whole country back home with me.