The importance of a good chair

Yesterday I sat at my dining room table with the laptop to my side, my big binder of family group sheets in front of me, and various notebooks and files around me... I was going through every detail already written and putting to pencil and paper where I found all such tidbits... When I got to their portion, I ended up chasing my husband's grandparents as best I could, trying to nail down a solid date for something. You wouldn't think a deceased generation not so far removed would be so tricky... I called a half dozen cemeteries with the information I have. I found one possible lead so far for Cecelia Gutierrez-Avila-Castro but the death date is different than I thought it would be. Did she die in 1973 or 1977? And her first husband, the father of my husband's mother and her siblings, did he legally go by Refugio and by Nabor to his family and friends?

This paper chase has begun to remind me of the one I have with my Irish immigrant family, the Howard's and Waters. The censuses had different ages each time so that a birth date could not be concluded. I couldn't get a death date besides "spring of 1924" because she went by Ellen Mary and not Mary Ellen. WHAT?! Why didn't I think of that before? So now I finally have cemetery records of those two, my second great grandparents, and a death certificate. It still doesn't verify for real when and where they were born, because the family left behind provided that information, but at least it's something. This is the same kind of problem I'm having with the immigrants on my husband's side, from Mexico and perhaps even from Italy.

I had to get up several times to do things (rescue some hapless object from the jaws of the family dog, make lunch, do dishes, help the husband) but sitting down again I began to realize my seat wasn't so happy. By the time we went to Goodwill to look at a glass table my husband had found that was perfect for our big flat TV and it's personal affects, my whole leg was yelling at me from upper mid-calf through my hammy gluteus-maximus. The dining room chairs, while graceful in appearance, are an affront to the backside with long periods of use. It makes me think of certain kinds of restaurants that are designed to move people rather than beckon them to stay. My dining room does not like loitering, and my right leg was the proof.

Then another old saying drifted through my head, "The mind can only absorb what the seat can endure."

Man, ain't that the truth.

So now, Friday, my husband is at work, my son is off playing with friends, and I have two rooms to rearrange and a whole lot of stuff to move, organize and store. One piece of furniture causes such a huge ripple effect. The parrot's cage is finally moving out of the living room so she won't be screaming at all our visitors and we can watch TV in peace; She, too, will be able to go to sleep at the proper birdy-bed time and perhaps be less cranky for it. I get to do it all by myself, but I had to write about this first, because sometimes, no matter how passionate I feel about recording stories and facts and images of loved ones gone before, I have to get other things done first. I have to get the house in order so the husband is happy, cause if he's happy I can work on other matters of organization, if that is done I can make a nook for myself to really knuckle down and focus on what I love- THIS- I can only do so much from an uncomfortable chair.