Look up Carl Larsson. He was quite the artist.

Either way, this great-grandfather had major anger issues and frequently beat his children. He once decked a horse when it was too tired to pull a plow… he then forced some of his kids to pull the plow! My grandma instructed us to never put flowers on his grave. We never have.

You'll find something worth your while. 🙂

Waiting to hear on a couple of different projects. They sound promising, but nothing in stone yet.

I am such a genealogy nerd. I really hope to get back to researching my family one day, while Mom & Dad are interested and can tell me the background stories on everyone.

Just a little less than 9 weeks until baby comes, so I've hit that uncomfortable "I just want to be done" stage.

Paula, I wondered where the dragonflies went to. We didn't see too many of them this summer until the middle of Aug. and then they disappeared again about two weeks later. I hope they come back.

Lori, I don't know what's worse. Too little rain or too much rain. Can't we meet in the middle?

Devon, thank you for that. I think because he was an Aries and I was a Cancer, it was doomed from the start. I'll never understand the "I want you – go away" messages Aries can sometimes send out. So the anger was from remembering thngs from that perspective. Totally true about the moon phase. I'm feeling it in several ways right now.

Okay, Kathy. I'm STILL reading The Skull Beneath the Skin by PD James, and the last song on the iPod was Keep Yourself Warm by Frightened Rabbit. They're my new favorite band.

Paula, the guests canceled. I'm sad because it would've been wonderful to catch up with them, but I'm relieved. I'm exhausted and it's only 3:30. And I LOVE your family history! Think there's any connection to Karl Larsson?

Oh Wendy, no! I'm sorry you're flooded. Oddly, I wish we were. We haven't had rain in over a month. It rained some yesterday, but we're so dry the grass is brown.

Our flooding was earlier in the summer and a beautiful result was an abundance of dragonflies moving further inland to devour that bumper crop of mosquitoes.

Sometimes it just has to be. I guess mother nature decides it for you when she gets a burr up her behind. It's a little annoying,though, that this rain is going to kickstart tourist season for more mosquitoes. If they'd pay, then I'd say great.

Even surrounded with loved ones, we still grieve on our own, since we all grieve differently. The one common thread I've noticed through my own losses and watching others grieve is there's what I call the Surreal Zone. For me it lasts about 2 weeks. I guess it's nature's way of cushioning us from the initial shock. We go on autopilot for a few days, then once you think things are back to normal (which they never will be) reality hits, and hits hard and you sob, scream and do what you need to do to get it out – I think that's when the real grieving (and healing) begins.

On a cheerier note: The genealogy on my Swedish side of the family revealed an interesting tidbit. Traditionally, Swedish surnames are very literal. My great-grandfather was the baby of his family. His surname was Larsson but his siblings were all named Gustavsson or Gustavsdottir. No one really knows where Lars came from or wound up and there were no marriage certificates linking my great-great-grandmother to anyone but her late husband Gustav.

On my dad's side of the family, the genealogists uncovered two scandalous Brits: one was a horse thief, the other was a "playboy." I'd have to look it up to be certain, but one of them was chased out of Britain, the other was beheaded. Both were Hungerfords. A former neighbor who grew up in England remembered the Hungerford castle ruins near her hometown (the genealogy mentions those). There is also a Hungerford footbridge crossing the Thames in London. When I was there I decided I had to cross it. I'm terrified of heights, so it was scary: a narrow, railed sidewalk high above the rushing river, at night after a rain, with trains zooming past on one side, and skateboarders zipping through the puddles splashing us. I was glad I crossed it, but even gladder to reach the other side.