Have you ever seen the stage show or movie of Fiddler on the Roof? There's a scene in which the main character, Tevye, describes to his wife a nightmare he is pretending to have had. Lots of ghosts, confusion, and screaming ancestors. That's what the last few nights have felt like. I close my eyes to go to sleep and names and dates swirl through my head.
In an attempt to make full use of my limited-time membership in Ancestry.com, one of the leading genealogy websites on the Internet, I have devoted about 90% of my recent waking hours to researching my relatives. When I feel I've exhausted the resources for one branch, I switch to another one. I've been creating files on my computer with family trees, historical facts, and citations for as many of those facts as possible. I've started manila file folders, labelled and sorted. Alphabetically. Of course.
It's been fascinating, frustrating and exhausting. Frankly, at the moment, I'm sick of doing it!
That won't last, but I have to say I welcomed the chance to take a break today when Meital had a friend over to swim. I sat outside, one eye on the girls, and the other on a great book my neighbor Ellen loaned me: The Woods, by Harlan Coben. I couldn't put it down, and just finished it about twenty minutes ago. I also found time today to start yet another washcloth. That's about all I can manage these days: small, made of cotton, garter stitch. I still haven't finished Liat's Shetland Shorty, and while I have worked on my niece's knee sock, it hasn't seen much action for the last couple of days. It just feels too hot to knit (heresy, I know, but there it is).