Sabbatical -- Day 60: Layby Day

August 24

Sometimes when you sail over a long distance and your journey lasts weeks or months or years, the wind; the weather; the waves or some combination of the three are against you. On such days the ship stays in port. Tasks are done around the ship to keep it tidy and to keep the crew active, but otherwise there is no travel, no journey progress. They call this a layby day. Friday was basically a layby day for me.

I ventured out about noon to wash the Tahoe from its mud event at Hook's last Sunday. I went to the new car wash at Northland Shopping Center. I had heard it was a good car wash. For $16 I got a lot of colorful soap, a bunch of hangy-down towels, some rotating whirly robo cleaners and a wind dry that threatened to blow the windshield wipers into Bourbon County. It was pretty good, but the mud from Hook's proved to be tougher than what the car wash had to offer. The wheel wells and tires still looked perfectly undone by the muddy residue.

It being Friday it's a Malone's day. We sat at the bar as usual. Met a nice couple who sat next to us and wanted to chat us up. I ate almost a pound of buffalo wings. I couldn't quite finish what was put before me. Sorry, Mom. Just couldn't. And I hate food waste. There are plenty of people who come to the church asking for food. Plenty of people who need a better meal. I hate wasting food, but I couldn't finish my meal.

While at Malone's I talked Kelly into going to the UK Men's Soccer match with me. I needed to go to pick up the scarf season ticket holder's receive so that it could be given to Dallas. Nice scarf. Nice night. Nice match. UK defeated Depaul 1-0.

Not quite a layby day, but close. It felt good to not have to do anything on anyone else's schedule but my own.

Peace and Love,
Jerry

Sabbatical -- Day 59: Diversions

August 23

I was not in a frame of mind to continue ripping down fence today though the weather would have been supportive. During the night I dreamed of fishing. So, Parkette for lunch and back to the Kentucky Horse Park for some fishing.

Parkette is a Lexington treasure, institution, must. Is the food good for me? You know the answer to that. Is it fun to go every once in a while? You know the answer to that, too.

Joe Smiley was the founder of the Parkette Drive In which opened at its current location on New Circle Road in 1951. Back then, New Circle Road was still a dirt road. Mr. Smiley made the Parkette famous with his Fried Chicken and the Kentucky Poor Boy.

The Original Parkette Drive In

The Parkette has been featured on Diners, Drive Ins and Dives and was on their Top Ten Hamburger spots. Inside the expanded eating area the vibe is 1950's diner.

Interior takes you back to 1950's Diner

That sign, though!

Iconic Lexington

I decided to eat in the car and have the car hop deliver the food to me. The menu board and call in speaker seem unchanged from the 1950's though the menu is updated. When the Kaplan Brothers bought the Drive In they added Kosher hot dogs to the menu and a Premium hamburger patty from Angus beef.

Menu Board at Parkette

I decided to live it up and ordered the Premium Poor Boy with Onion Rings and a Pepsi. Those of you that know me well know that I am not a Pepsi person. I prefer Coke. While Parkette serves delicious hand mixed shakes and malts I knew that would just be too much, especially since I was headed out into the sun to fish. Pepsi it was.

My very pleasant server arrived promptly with my meal. Strapped to her side was not a change maker, but a Bluetooth card reader and printer. 50's vibe, 21st century technology.

Caption Not Needed

It was more food than I should have had, but yeah, I ate it all and licked the crumbs out of the paper container. Maybe that's too much information, but it's Parkette.

Bloated, I made my way out to the Horse Park. There was no one else fishing. It was a pretty day. Plenty warm. Plenty of sun. A tiny breeze. No fish bites. Hour after hour. No fish. I tried shrimp, night crawlers and meal worms. Nothing. The previous two times I had caught plenty of fish. Not so today.

However, across the pond in the Rolex Arena there was a Jumping Event going on, and while watching my bobber I could also watch the riders and their horses clearing jumps, hear the sounds of the hooves on the dirt and also the sound of when a gate was struck and fell. It made the day even better. When the event ended they announced that there would be another group starting at 5pm and I resolved to stay so I could see them. Waiting was no issue. Two lines in the water, but no action.

At 5pm here came the next class of Jumpers. I am amazed at the agility of the horses; the training that must be required, the communication between rider and horse. Just really fun to watch them.

If you go full screen with the video you can see the horse and rider jumping.

Fishing the pond next to Rolex Arean

About 6pm I headed home. Poured the remaining worms into the rose bed. Sabbatical is nearing an end and I won't be fishing again anytime soon. Freeing the worms felt like the right thing to do. Two hours later the worms were still in the same place. I guess when you have been captive for so long you might be unsure what to do when you are finally free. This morning they have gone to wherever they chose, for once.

"¹⁵For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear," Romans 8: 15. 

I think there's a lesson there for when I am off sabbatical and back to work. 

I was glad for the diversions of the day. I was glad for the day itself. Each day of this sabbatical has held its own unique gifts and diversions. I am grateful for each one.

Peace and Love,
Jerry

Sabbatical -- Day 58: Eat Local, Y'All

August 22

Today is the birthday of my youngest sibling, Melissa. She was born on August 22, 1964. I was five when she was born and just about to start kindergarten at William McKinley Elementary School in Tulsa. As the youngest of four, Melissa had three older and eager caretakers, and rivals. In a house of about 950 square feet the four of us were always in one another's space, and while we loved each other, we also tussled. Melissa was the youngest and the smallest, and she didn't always get the best deal. My sister fought against learning disabilities all her academic days but accomplished something I dearly wanted but never could; earning a degree from the University of Tulsa. She also completed the work for a Master’s Degree at the University of North Texas. She and her husband, Jon Olav, live in Oslo, Norway. You can read about her summer 2018 visit to Tulsa in the first week of posts from the sabbatical portion of this blog. Happy Birthday, MGJWriter!

Before lunch my time was filled with relaxation, lots of coffee, and catching up on the news out of the courts in New York and Virginia. Just before lunch I got myself ready and headed to Stanton, KY to buy some Cream Candy. According to Kelly there is only one Cream Candy that approximates what her family made growing up, and it's Crabtree's Candies in Stanton. I will get back to my visit in a minute, but first, let me say a bit about cream candy.

Growing up in Oklahoma we had no such confection that I can recall. Kelly's mother's family introduced me to Cream Candy. Kelly's grandmother, Elsie Wells Dale of Mt. Sterling, made it in the winter only, and kept bags of it frozen in her freezer for the warmer months. According to Cindy Gibbs at My Country Table, the recipe calls for sugar, pure vanilla and heavy whipping cream. Ms. Gibbs further writes, "Kentucky Cream Pull Candy is cooked to a hard ball stage, poured onto a very cold marble slab and when cooled enough to handle, is pulled like Taffy and stretched into a long-twisted rope and cut with scissors. It is left overnight to cream.  Many years ago candy makers thought the only way to get this candy to turn out perfect was to stand outside in freezing cold temperatures to pull it." Granny, as Kelly's grandmother was known, was a devotee of outside in the cold only. She had a metal hook installed on her back porch so she could pull the candy without the aid of another person.

Here's a link to Cindy Gibbs', My Country Table story on and recipe for Kentucky Cream Pull Candy.

I was not a quick fan of the Cream Candy. When creamed it does indeed melt in your mouth. It was when I bit into the frozen candy Granny used to keep on hand that I discovered I liked it. For years we kept it in our freezer too. Granny had a twist on the recipe that she perfected -- adding a bit of Maker's Mark. That was pretty good stuff. The marble slab Granny used has been preserved and the hook still hangs on the back porch of the farmhouse near Judy, KY.

One can understand then, how Kelly would be discriminating about her Cream Candy. When she can't get Mrs. Crabtree's candy she will eat Ma Blakeman's out of Lancaster, but Crabtree's is the prime. So, I made my way to Crabtree's Candies in Stanton on a mission. 

First View of the Mountains on the Bert T. Combs Mountain Parkway

Crabtree's Candies is on College St. in Stanton, KY

The candy shop was bright, well-organized and spotless clean

When I pulled into the lot in a shiny Ingot Silver Mustang, I sat for a moment checking my phone before exiting. When I walked in the ladies behind the counter had a perplexed look on their faces and wondered aloud in a puzzled tone if they could help me. I clearly was not from around those parts. My tag is registered in Jefferson County (Louisville), so the kind ladies were curious about this guy walking in. I assured them I was in the right place and that I had been sent on a mission to buy Cream Candy. Their faces brightened, and we talked for ten minutes about Stanton, people we knew, Cream Candy and the difference between flatlanders and people from the hills. All the while they were putting 36 pieces of white gold into the box for Kelly. 

They thanked me for my purchase and off I went to explore Stanton a bit, having never been in the town before. It wasn't but a moment until I came across the beautifully renovated train station.

Renovated train station in Stanton, KY

 Honestly, there wasn't much else to see, and I headed out of town on KY 15 driving towards Clay City. Clay City is famous for its drag race track. It sits on a piece of land between the Bert T. Combs Mountain Parkway and KY 15. I could see it as I drove past it on KY 15 but I couldn't see a way to turn toward it or into it. KY 15 made its way through downtown Clay City, a place I had also never visited before, then winds along steep cliffs and flat pastures toward Winchester. There is much to see and think about when one drives the rural backroads of Appalachia. I am not equipped with enough knowledge to make many comments about the state of life in rural southeastern KY, but I will say this; the roads are fairly well-maintained as are the lawns of the homes along the highway. The foothills are beautiful. The towns are nowhere close to dead or dying. There are plenty of places in decay, but the streets of Stanton and Clay City were dotted with renovated street lamps, sidewalks and were clean. 

I enjoyed the drive.

The son of a church member passed away yesterday, so as I was going through Winchester on the way home, I stopped to see Bruce and offer my condolences. Bruce has always been kind to me. He has traveled a lot and always brings me some travel memento when he returns. I am humbled that he thinks of me when traveling, so it was an easy decision to stop and see him on a day when his child passed away. I am richer for having made the stop.

I am deeply committed to supporting local producers of food and products. Eating with Chef Ouita the day before, and buying candy from a small, local vendor today are acts I am committed to continuing. I serve with some fine people in Winchester as a part of ALFA, Alliance for Local Food Access. I share time with the Farmer's Market, the Homemakers, Community Services, the Greater Clark Foundation, and the University of Kentucky Extension System in an effort to help local producers market their products and to see that we get as much fresh, local food as able to people who are struggling financially to buy healthy food. My own efforts at Plant A Row for the Hungry in Winchester dovetail beautifully with the ideas of Wendell Berry, and my belief that local food production is better for the economy and our bodies.

 

Please. Eat local, y'all.

Peace and Love,

Jerry

Sabbatical -- Day 57: Hey Mickey You're So Fine

August 21

I had a lunch date today with Dr. Chester Mickey Anders and I'm dishing details.

I traveled around Lexington this morning helping Kelly get her car to Nissan for a wellness check and oil change, then dropping her at work. Dallas was headed to London on business this morning. Yep. I actually said that. My child working. What a concept. I rushed home to help him find a tape measure and make sure his tires were properly inflated, and off he went. There is something satisfying in seeing him take on a job responsibility, take it seriously, and do work that pleases his employer. It may also be that he is setting himself in a good position with his current employer after he graduates. Whether there is a job or a strong reference, one doesn't know yet, but, there he went on his first business trip -- to London. My first business trip was a preaching gig my senior year in college at the Geuda Springs, KS United Methodist Church.

I met Mickey at Wallace Station with my gas gauge perilously low on the Mustang. Mickey was there and as we walked in he asked why I had picked Wallace Station. 

Wallace Station Restaurant. Old Frankfort Pike. Woodford County.

Warning, suckup shoutout to Ouita Michel coming.

Ouita Michel is a local chef and food entrepreneur. She has made a solid reputation for herself and her restaurants by sourcing as much local food as she can, paying attention to food sources and production, serving delicious food with good service, and making that good food accessible to people. She is a part of the community in Midway, KY and helps Midway Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). She is a thoughtful person which shows in her interviews and in her Twitter feed. She's the kind of local business person I want to support. She takes seriously the ideas of Kentucky philosopher Wendell Berry who advocates knowing the story, and origin of our food. He once said, "To be interested in food but not in food production is absurd." For these reasons I chose Wallace Station for lunch with Mickey. Also, it was a cool drive to an awesome location. I have also, on other occasions, intentionally chosen to eat at Ouita's other restaurants: Windy Corner Market, Midway Bakery, Smithtown Seafood, and Honeywood. Some day I will make it to Holly Hill Inn in Midway.

I ordered the famous Wallace Station Chicken Salad Plate. Mickey ordered a Cubano. Since we got there a bit early we got a good seat and began our visit. Soon enough the place was packed. Line stretching out the door and people taking to the seats outside even though it had rained. We talked about motorcycles. Mickey is an avid motorcyclist. Fifteen weeks ago he got hit by a deer in New Mexico and landed in the hospital with a broken clavicle and a concussion. On July 31, 1976 I was on a motorcycle with my cousin, Jeff, cruising down the access road to I-44 in Tulsa when we got hit by a Mustang. My cousin was killed. I suffered a broken clavicle and a concussion. Mickey continues to ride. I haven't been on a motorcycle since the fateful accident.

We talked about physics and faith. Mickey told me he had written a book about Time. I told him about reading Carlo Rovelli and Brian Greene. We talked about some deep subjects related to the nature of reality. What a gift this moment was.

Mickey asked about my sabbatical. Mickey has had a couple of amazing sabbaticals. I mean, amazing. He took his 22' Hunter sailboat into the Chesapeake and sailed up to Long Island Sound and into the Erie Canal, traversing the Canal to Lake Ontario and Lake Erie. He wrote a blog every day during that sabbatical -- now you know where I got the idea for this blog and its style -- and that blog turned into a book, "Radical Sabbatical." If you would like to see that book, I keep a copy close by me.

He also took a sabbatical to walk the Camino in Spain. Both of these sabbaticals were completely intentional and physically taxing. Mickey is a tad older than I and his ability to handle such physical challenges is so impressive to me, but more than that -- Mickey pays attention to life and experiences and he gleans something from them. He is wise. He is eloquent. He is probably the best friend I have ever had in ministry and I learn so much from him, I just lose words.

It has become obvious to me since the sabbatical began that I have done a poor work of cultivating local friendships outside the work of the church. I love my church. I love my church people. Outside of them, well, I have done a lousy job of making myself a friend to local people like Mickey. I intend to cultivate time with Mickey, and Kory and Rachele/Rich when the sabbatical ends. I have simply become too immersed in work and work relationships to my detriment and to the detriment of people whom I would enjoy calling friends.

Back to lunch. I had realized as we walked in to Wallace Station I had left my wallet at home. Embarrassing. Low on gas. No funds at all. Mickey graciously paid for lunch and made me take a $20 bill from him as we were leaving with a promise I would stop for gas in Midway rather than run out. Embarrassing. However, Mickey was just like a Dad with a less-than-responsible son. He just gives and loves and is always so kind and pleasant. Mickey pulled away after a great, great lunch. I feel such joy being with Mickey.

As I sat down in the Mustang to leave I noticed my wallet was in the center console. Not kidding. It was right there staring at me. Mocking me. If leather could talk I am sure it would have said one simple word to me. Goofball.

Wallet. Center Console. Photo Credit -- Goofball

Mickey, I will get that $20 back to you when I buy you lunch in a couple weeks. Let's meet at Windy Corner, eat some good Ouita Michel food, share some great conversation, and laugh at how goofy I am.

Thank you, Mickey.

Peace and Love,
Jerry

Sabbatical -- Day 56: Nature Is Amazing

August 20

Grass. Bluegrass. Fescue. KY 31 Tall Fescue. The property is almost completely grassy. Save for the outbuilding, the driveway and the house, there is about 2.5 acres of grass. Like a teenager, it is moody and it is needy. Not much rain, and the grass goes dormant in the summer. Give it some rain and it runs wild. It requires trimming. It requires edging. It requires mowing. Needy. Grass is a pain in the ask me how much mowing I normally do in August. This is more.

If you have been following my blog, and why would you, then you know that my mower was out of commission for four weeks. The rain held off during that time. The yard got mowed three times in four weeks. Get the mower back and what happens? No. It didn't break again. It rained. And it rained. Grass is needy. It needs rain. And when it gets enough rain it needs cutting. Needy.

Grass Communicating With Me

So, I cut the needy grass. I gave in to its passive-aggressive and silent demands for attention. I realize I may just be enabling its needy behavior by giving it attention, but, well, the grass needed mowing and I mowed it. I will deal with the consequences of my enabling behavior another day. So, of course, it's raining again. You know what that means. Give it a couple days and it will be silently staring at me, silently communicating, "I need to be mowed." Almost makes a "summer" person call out for winter. Not quite. Actually, no, I can't stand winter. I would rather mow than play in snow.

I didn't accomplish much other than mowing the needy grass. Enabling needy behaviors can be taxing. Well, I did listen to another On Being with Krista Tippett podcast while I was attending to the needs of the grass. She interviewed Alan Rabinowitz, a zoologist, and apparently the Indiana Jones of  zoology. He talked about how amazing nature is. He has ventured across the world and spent a great deal of time with big cats. He spoke especially of the leopards of Central America. "Perhaps we are all wildlife." No perhaps in my mind. On Being has been a constant companion for me on the sabbatical. It is filled with the really good stuff in life. Nature is amazing. It does what it wants whether we humans exist or not.

Later in the day I did spend some time looking online for more ways to pour money into the sailboat. Tule Mor is needy too. You can't just sail her. You have to attend to her needs, maintain her. Baby her. Then, when her needs are met she wants things too. A new tiller. Colorful interior LED's. New sails. New sails? That's a bunch of money. Yep. New sails. Needy. Always needing something.

Sails and grass together. Hmmm. Almost like they're mocking me.

I also spent some time working on the format of the blog, changing the design a bit. Not that you would notice, but it felt like a good day for change. Changes aren't permanent, but change is. That's what Tom Sawyer says, anyway.

I am enjoying writing the blog every day. I think it has brought out something in me that should continue to be nurtured going ahead. I think the discipline of it, and the writing itself have been a positive during the sabbatical. Is anybody reading it? I know of three people who do. Other than that, I am not sure. It doesn't really matter though, because I am enjoying it, and I don't need people to read it.

Leave the needy behaviors to the grass. I can hear it growing right now.

Peace and Love,
Jerry

Sabbatical -- Day 55: Sail It Like You Stole It

August 19

I got on the road early this morning and met Jeff and Jennifer Melton at the Pilot Travel Center in Mt. Sterling on our way to Cave Run Lake. Tule Mor was in tow. Within an hour of arriving at Scott Creek Ramp we had Tule Mor on the water, the motor running and we were ready to sail.

There was precious little wind. It was an overcast day. The drive up had been enshrouded in a thick fog, which continued to obscure the sun as we sailed. Well, as we floated, sort of. Tule Mor is not, at this point, a good light wind sailboat. Her sails are aged and the luff edges are not crisp. She spills wind almost as much as she catches it. Fitting her with new sails would be a significant expense, probably more than $1,500 so what we have will have to be made to work for a while.

Sailing with Jennifer and Jeff is always fun. Jeff is an experienced and skilled sailor. He knows the workings of a boat inside and out and he can coax the best of a boat with his seamanship and his MacGuyver tricks.

We ate lunch on the water. Jennifer had prepared sandwiches and cold water. Both of which were excellent. Mid afternoon we made for the shore so we could put Tule Mor back on the trailer and move her over to Captain Hook's boat storage across the street from the ramp. In years gone by Tule Mor has spent time with Mrs. Hook. She's a very nice lady and since there are no power lines between her yard and the boat ramp one does not have to lower or raise the mast to launch. That's a real bonus.

Mrs. Hook is a character and well-known around Cave Run Lake. She is always cordial and kind, but she runs a tight ship. There must be over a hundred boats in her yard, for which she accepts no responsibility for loss or theft. Mrs. Hook told us where to park. I pulled in and directly into a very deep mudhole that was disguised by straw and grass. With the weight of the boat on the back the Tahoe stuck in the mud. Deeply.

For some reason the four wheel drive didn't engage on the Tahoe in the way one would expect. It acted as if only the two wheel drive was in place. One tire spun, the other three were still. Try as I might to get the four wheel drive to engage I just kept digging into the water-soaked mudhole even deeper. Jennifer inquired politely was to why only one tire was spinning. I asked if she had ever seen the movie, My Cousin Vinny. Yes, she said. Well, it's the same thing. Without a limited slip differential and without the four wheel drive engaging in an expected fashion, sit and spin was the order of the moment.

We took the boat off the hitch with some considerable effort. Then, we took a rope from the boat and tied it to the front of the Tahoe and the back of the Melton's Subaru Outback. The Outback (on the pavement) had just enough traction to let the four wheel drive on the Tahoe engage and out of the muddy bog it climbed without much effort. My suspicion is that the four wheel drive can't fully engage unless the vehicle moves forward. When the Subaru gave a slight nudge the four wheel locked in and our escape was complete. Almost.

Mrs. Hook called on one of her workers or relatives or maybe a bit of both to come help us with a Track Hoe. The young man maneuvered to the front of Tule Mor. Backed her out of her muddy encampment, turned her 180 degrees and backed in her in where I could get her out without approaching the mud again. Tule Mor secure in her spot, we decided to head to the Melton's boat for a little sailing aperitif. Crossing the highway the Tahoe would not disengage from four wheel low. Still stuck, in a manner of speaking. I dropped Jeff at the marina and decided to drive around the parking area fiddling with the drive knob, trying to run backwards a distance, and prayer, and finally out of four wheel it kicked. Mud was everywhere. Everywhere. All over the Tahoe. All over me. War paint, I called it.

Off to Second Wind. They decided to get her out on the water. This just became a very long day. Once we hit the lake in their boat I wasn't going to get home until well after dark. We motored across the lake, dropped anchor and feasted on sardines and saltines for dinner with a side of Buffalo Trace as the sun set across the lake. Wow. Cave Run is a pretty lake on a bad day. But this had turned from a gloomy day to a cloudless sun-drenched day, and as the sun went below the hills and trees the opposite side of the lake was still in the sun making a striking contrast. The moon in all its waxing gibbous glory began to shine, then Venus, then Mars. We sailed with the spinnaker guiding, the sun now fading, until the moonlight played upon the waters. Long day, yes? Good day? Without question.

In darkness we crept back to the dock sailing in light wind until I encouraged them to get me to shore so I could head home. Reluctantly we dropped the sails and started the motor. I was at the helm and as we approached Scott Creek Marina the lights shining from the dock were our only guide. I narrowly missed a No Wake buoy, through sheer luck, headed to the fuel dock, where they wished me safe drive and then they disappeared back onto the lake as I climbed the hill to the car. Out again they went to anchor and slumber.

The drive home was no issue. I pulled into the driveway 14 hours after I had left. I fell into the bed. A grateful tired encircled me.

Sabbatical is intended to be a time of intentional rest and intentional spiritual renewal for me. It is not a vacation. I am expected to use my time away from the church in a way that benefits me and will bring benefit to the church once I return next week. One might ask, how does a day of leisure such as this fit the requirements of sabbatical time? I would offer just a couple thoughts on that, and perhaps some reflections post-sabbatical. First, as I have said along the way, sabbatical has been about experiencing people. Jennifer and Jeff are becoming deeper friends as time moves on. I have learned much from Jeff about discipline and ingenuity and creativity, and I have learned much from Jennifer in matters of the Spirit. Time with them tends to center around deep thoughts and questions -- and it's fun and relaxing. Sailing is itself a spiritual exercise. It requires an attentiveness to the present moment. It involves wind and water - the two elements of creation and baptism. Finally, when working at the church full time I rarely find the time to do something that speaks to the inner depths of my spirit. There is much to do between family and church that leisure time tends to be recovery time instead of experiential recreation time. The sabbatical gives me a chance to change that a bit and to test if there is something I need to intentionally add to engage in proper self-care and spiritual deepening. By all my counts -- today was a sabbatical day and not a vacation day.

Peace and Love,
Jerry

Sabbatical -- Days 52 and 53: Clean Clothes, Clean Boat

August 16, 17

Thursday was laundry and dishes day. I stayed around the house practically the whole day, except to pick up prescriptions and buy a pound of coffee. I bought Bluegrass Breakfast coffee this time. It's one of the less expensive blends at Lexington Coffee and Tea and Coffee Times Coffee House so it's kind of a go-to for me.

I did multiple loads of laundry and washed dishes.

Friday I got up and started cleaning the boat. I had made a date with Rich and Rachele Holmes to sail this coming weekend, but by Friday afternoon we had decided the weather was not in our favor. That didn't keep me from washing the interior of the boat and pressure washing the outside of the boat, hooking it up to the Tahoe and getting it ready to go.

Instead, I will head to the lake on Sunday where Jeff and Jennifer Melton will help me get her launched and sail her. Hope the weather holds for us.

I spent about two hours on Friday afternoon looking at DNA results on 23andMe and also on GEDMatch. I had noticed this week that my ancestry background percentages had changed quite a bit, so I went looking for some answers. 23andMe says they applied an updated algorithm and consequently not only did my percentages change, but my paternal haplogroup was narrowed. I am intrigued by stories of people connecting to their relatives. There is little known about my father's paternal genealogy. I would like to know more, but, I am cautious because I don't want to be someone's surprise.

Friday night was spent at the usual place with the usual folk. Afterwards we went to Winchell's to meet Forrest and Kim Molloy and their son, William. They moved their daughter Margaret into the dorm at UK this morning, and it was a long day for them, and we joined them to talk about it a bit while they ate a late dinner.

During dinner William gave up that Margaret has always referred to me as Scary Jerry. Yep. Me. I cannot even imagine. I don't think I have ever scared anyone in my life. Oh well, that has changed over the years and I hope Margaret finds UK to her liking and is a great success.

I am having a difficult time getting myself around to starting a new book. I have two left to read before sabbatical ends and I am just not feeling a motivation to get on them. Perhaps that will change this weekend. At least the clothes and the boat are clean. Yay me.

Peace and Love,
Jerry