I’m too far behind on posting the tiny things of life, so I don’t have the luxury of doing one coherent post tonight:
I get misty … : Chances are … that Texas-born Johnny Mathis turns the Big Seven-Oh today.
Our blogging buddy (and fellow soldier in the Adoptee Wars) Pamibe got so inspired by my tales of participation in the Genographic Project that she sent in her own cheek swab, and today she got her results back: She’s in Haplogroup H, a predominantly European people, according to the National Geographic site.
I told her she needs to dig deeper into the message boards, though, because the NG site at first told me my origins were Balkan, but further research and marker comparisons led me to origins in Scotland and Iceland.
There’s nothing wrong with being Bulgarian or Romanian of course … but the prospect of having the blood of Vikings is SO cool.
But of course, any information at all is better than nothing, which is what most adoptees have in the way of a genetic heritage: A big huge honking NOTHING.
That’s why living in the age of easy DNA analysis rocks so much. Pam and I and thousands of others might have the many doors of the Adoption Bureacracy slammed in our faces, but they can’t stop us from climbing in the window of Science.
(All together now: “Science!”)
And speaking of The Motherland, I’ve been meaning to check out other modern Icelandic music (there’s more than just Bjork, you know), so tonight I’ve been listening to the Takk, latest album by Sigur Ros.
It’s really enjoyable. I see it as the kind of music I like to listen to during cool evenings (now that we finally have some) tinkering with my Linux computer in the garage or on the patio. (The Lost in Translation soundtrack also serves that purpose well.) It’s very light and spacy, every evocative.
Okay, that’s all, now let’s get some rest.