It was the first weekend in August — a long weekend, where Monday is a statutory holiday (in Canada, not certain about in the U.S. though.).
And what made it so special, you ask?
Well, I didn’t have to work any of it, for the first time in almost a year!
So, plans were to relax and enjoy doing very little due to the extensive humidity. (“Very little” actually meaning to catch up on genealogy research.).
Booting up my computer, I opened my browser and found far too many tabs open. Upon closer scrutiny, each tab provided information about the upcoming national conference of the Federation of Genealogical Societies in San Antonio, Texas.
Looking them over, I asked myself: When did I leave these open?
As I slowly closed them, I found the majority of them detailed the sessions and biographies of the many speakers that will be in attendance. I ended up reading them …
MiLady then came up behind me and glanced at my screen.
“Ohh, she did convince you to go with her!” she chided.
“Huh?” I asked unsure of what I missed.
“Nostalgia,” my soul-mate said.
“Oh,” I groaned, covering my eyes to prepare for the impending migraine that would quickly move into the spacious rental area between my ears. “What has she done now?”
“You’re going with her!“
I looked wide-eyed at my wife. “I am?” I asked, “where?”
“Aren’t you?” she asked back.
“Are you telling me to go with her?” I inquired carefully, “Because I told her that I will not be her valet.”
My favourite girl appeared shocked. “You did?”
“Yes, I did,” I answered truthfully. “Why do you think otherwise?”
MiLady pointed at my monitor.
“Nostalgia was printing those same pages, last night.”
Oh, no, I thought, scrambling to my printer stand.
[No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!]
I opened the tray and peered inside … three pages occupied the compartment!
Dejected, I dropped to the floor and yanked on the storage door under the stand, still hoping.
The door swung open to reveal only three of six reams of paper and no ink cartridges!
“She didn’t use it all, Dear’st,” MiLady assured me as I pouted. “You still have …”
“Hot pink, canary yellow and lime green,” I said, pointing at each package before closing the door.
MiLady was shocked.
“Would you happen to know what was so important that she murdered 40 trees to print it?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, MiLove,” my girl quietly said, nuzzling under my chin as she hugged me. “I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask her?”
================================
Ten minutes later, I was still standing at the top of the stairs, contemplating the most cost-effective way to remove the paper-wasting pest upon the other side of that door.
[A spray can of RAID is cheap.].
Rapping with the back of my fist, I was unable to say a word as the portal magically flew open after just one rap!
“RABBIT!” the Old Banshee squealed with a smile as wide as a hungry, man-eating Venus fly-trap. “I have so much to tell you!”
[Oh, no.].
Gia’s “welcome-come-in” greeting was really a yank on my (now, dislocated) arm as the door quickly slammed shut. My uncontrolled response to her greeting was me landing upon the bed face-first after a double somersault with a half-twist.
Her words were garbled until I righted myself.
“Gia,” I interrupted, finally sitting up properly after two minutes. “Don’t you know that you have been talking to my backside all this time?”
“Oh?” she replied a little disappointed, “And here I thought you were finally being a gentleman!”
“What did you need to tell me, Nostalgia?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Congratulate me!” she announced.
“Congratulate you? Why?” I queried lingering on the last word.
“I have interviews that I must attend,” she said proudly as she scattered four inches of paper beside me. “And these are some of the sessions I have been asked to assist in the presentations of, and these are a couple of the plated lunch invitations, and …”
I rubbed my eyes as I tried to focus upon her overwhelming excitement, in preparation of my first attempt to try and comprehend her misinformation.
“Gia,” I asked fearful of the gamut of answers that she could give, “who will be interviewing you?”
She stopped and looked over her eyeglass rims.
“I don’t know,” she replied with a sincere and genuine smile, “I guess I’ll find out when I get there, won’t I?”
As my head reeled, I tried to find the right combination of words to compose my next question, while she described how she would be “assisting” some of the presenters.
[“Take over” is more like it really!]
“What is …” I paused, as my mind went blank. “What is your first presentation about?”
“Oh!” she beamed, “Something you should sit in on, Rabbit … you’d actually learn something!”
I bit my tongue and forced a tight grin. “And what topic is that, My Old Fossil?”
“Genealogy through mobile technology!” she answered ignoring my pet-name endearment.
My hands cradled my weary head, as I painfully recalled two years earlier: Nostalgia’s discovery of a cellphone app to a major genealogy website and her insistent application of the same upon my raw (and, at that time, not backed up) research of over 40 years!
[To Be Continued]